Helping Others Like Me: My Mission in Mental Health and Chronic Illness Living with a chronic mental health condition is not easy. It affects every part of your life—your thoughts, your emotions, your relationships, and even your body. For me, it’s meant more than managing symptoms. My treatment—lifesaving in many ways—has also caused long-term side effects, including diabetes. Navigating both a mental health diagnosis and a chronic physical condition has been one of the greatest challenges of my life. But it has also fueled my passion and shaped my purpose: to help others who are going through the same struggle. My goal is to work in a field where I can directly support people living with chronic mental and physical health conditions—particularly those whose lives have been affected by psychiatric medications that can lead to additional medical issues like diabetes or metabolic syndrome. I want to help others feel seen, heard, and empowered—not just as patients, but as whole human beings. I believe that true healing happens when we treat the person, not just the diagnosis. I plan to use my education to work in a mental health-focused field—whether that’s counseling, mental health advocacy, social work, or nonprofit outreach—where I can be a voice for people like me. I want to advocate for better education around the long-term effects of psychiatric medication, help connect people to holistic support systems and ensure that no one feels isolated in their illness. One of my long-term goals is to help build or partner with a mental wellness center that provides both psychiatric care and physical health monitoring for those on long-term medications. So often, people with mental health conditions are forced to manage fragmented care—one doctor for the mind, another for the body—and the two don’t communicate. I want to help change that. A place where someone can get therapy, medication management, diabetes education, and peer support all in one—especially for low-income individuals and communities of color—would be a dream come true. I’ve also thought deeply about the power of storytelling and community. I hope to someday launch an online support network or podcast for individuals navigating dual diagnoses: mental illness *and* chronic conditions brought on by treatment. Too often, we suffer in silence. Sharing real stories, resources, and encouragement could bring light into many dark places. I don’t claim to have all the answers—but I have lived through the questions. And that gives me a kind of empathy that can’t be taught in any textbook. I know what it feels like to wake up each day and carry an invisible weight. I also know what it means to fight for your future, even when the odds are stacked against you. Helping others like me isn’t just a goal—it’s my calling. And with the support of this scholarship, I hope to keep turning my pain into purpose.

For the past several years, I have been open about my journey with schizophrenia, using my story to encourage others facing mental health challenges. Through community events, social media, and informal mentorship, I have helped peers feel less alone by sharing how I found strength in music and education. I regularly volunteer at a local piano school for underserved youth, where I not only teach but also listen—offering a safe space for young people to express their emotions and struggles. Often, students share personal stories of anxiety, depression, or difficult home lives, and I remind them that their current pain doesn’t define their future. My lived experience has made me a more compassionate listener and a resilient guide. I’ve helped friends navigate the mental health system, connect to therapy, and even apply to college after hospitalizations. I advocate fiercely for mental wellness in creative communities, where struggles are often hidden or stigmatized. Now a graduate student at Teachers College, Columbia University, studying music and education, I plan to build a career that fuses emotional support with artistic expression. My goal is to teach at the university level and develop music-centered mental health workshops for students, creatives, and marginalized youth. I want to create safe spaces where people can process trauma, gain confidence, and use creativity as a tool for healing. Mental illness tried to take everything from me. Instead, it gave me a purpose. My mission is to ensure no one walks this path alone.

Certainly! Here’s a 1000-word essay that addresses all three questions, including your journey with schizophrenia and how it connects to your passion for education: ⸻ My Journey to Impact: Music, Mental Health, and the Future of Education One of the most meaningful moments I’ve had as a mentor was working with a young student named Elijah at a local piano school that serves low-income youth in my community. Elijah was nine years old and had never touched a piano before, but he had a quiet fascination with music. He barely spoke during our first lesson, avoided eye contact, and was clearly dealing with a lot more than just nerves. Over the course of several weeks, I began to notice a transformation—not just in his piano playing, but in his confidence. He began to show up early to lessons, ask questions, and eventually shared that he was being bullied at school and music was the one place he felt safe. I listened, encouraged him, and tailored his lessons to be both therapeutic and empowering. One day after a recital where he played beautifully, his mother approached me with tears in her eyes and said, “Thank you for giving my son a reason to believe in himself again.” That moment reminded me why I do what I do. Music saved my life, and now I’m working to help others find that same sense of hope and purpose through education and mentorship. My journey hasn’t been easy. In fact, my path into the field of education was born out of one of the most difficult periods of my life. During my junior year of college, I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. At the time, I was studying music and had plans of becoming a professional composer and performer. That diagnosis changed everything. I was forced to drop out of school and focus on my mental health, spending years in and out of hospitals, group homes, and therapy programs. The experience was isolating, painful, and at times, completely disorienting. But in the darkness, I found music again—and with it, a renewed sense of purpose. I began practicing piano not just to improve, but to heal. Slowly, my passion reignited, and so did my belief in my ability to contribute something meaningful to the world. I eventually went back to school, completed my Bachelor of Arts in Music, and was recently accepted into the Music and Music Education graduate program at Teachers College, Columbia University. That acceptance wasn’t just a win for me—it was a victory for everyone who has been told that their mental illness disqualifies them from achieving greatness. If I could change one thing in education, it would be the way we approach mental health and neurodiversity in schools. Far too often, students with mental health challenges are misunderstood, mislabeled, or outright dismissed. Our current education system tends to focus narrowly on academic performance and standardized testing, leaving little room for emotional intelligence, creative expression, or individualized learning. This creates an environment where students like Elijah—or even a younger version of myself—can fall through the cracks. I believe that every child learns differently and that the role of education should be to nurture each student’s unique strengths, not punish them for their challenges. I would advocate for mental health education to be integrated into school curriculums at every level, for teacher training to include trauma-informed and neurodiverse learning strategies, and for creative arts programs to be protected and expanded—not cut. Music, theater, and visual art offer safe outlets for students who struggle with traditional learning models and can serve as powerful tools for healing and self-expression. My dream is to open a community-based music education and mental health center that offers free or low-cost music lessons, therapy-informed creative workshops, and mentorship for youth facing emotional or psychological difficulties. I also want to develop adaptive music technology tools that allow neurodivergent learners to thrive, and eventually pursue a Ph.D. in music technology to contribute to both research and higher education. I envision a future where students who are often left behind become leaders in their own right—where schools are places of inclusion, innovation, and emotional growth. The person who had the most profound impact on my decision to work in education was my high school music teacher, Mr. Jacobs. He was the first adult who saw beyond my circumstances and treated me as if I had unlimited potential. When I was struggling at home and unsure of who I was, Mr. Jacobs gave me extra time after school to practice, brought in sheet music he thought I’d love, and constantly reminded me that I was gifted. He didn’t know at the time that I was already dealing with early symptoms of schizophrenia—sleepless nights, emotional swings, and social withdrawal. But he saw something in me that I couldn’t see in myself. Even after I left high school and my life took a turn for the worse, his belief in me stayed with me. I held onto his encouragement like a lifeline. When I finally returned to school years later to finish my degree, I did so with his voice in the back of my mind, reminding me that I still had music, and music still had a place for me. He showed me what it looks like to teach with compassion, patience, and vision—qualities I strive to embody now in my own work with students. Living with schizophrenia has taught me many lessons—about perseverance, humility, and the importance of community. But perhaps the greatest lesson it taught me is that purpose can be born from pain. My diagnosis did not destroy my future—it reshaped it. I no longer dream only of performing or composing; I dream of changing systems, building programs, and inspiring a new generation of young people who feel broken or forgotten. I want them to know that they matter, that they’re capable, and that their experiences—no matter how difficult—can be the foundation for greatness. I’ve learned that one person can make a difference in a child’s life. Mr. Jacobs did it for me. I did it for Elijah. And through music, education, and advocacy, I plan to do it for many more.

Currently, I give back to my community by volunteering at a local piano school that serves low-income and underserved youth. I teach piano lessons, help students prepare for performances, and serve as a mentor to young people who are discovering their creative voices for the first time. Many of these students come from difficult backgrounds and have never had access to consistent music education. Being able to show up for them—week after week—and watch their confidence grow is one of the most meaningful parts of my life. I see pieces of myself in them: the curiosity, the uncertainty, the hope. My passion for giving back is deeply personal. In my early twenties, during my junior year of college, I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. The diagnosis was life-altering. I went from being a thriving student to someone struggling just to get through the day. I spent years in and out of hospitals, battling symptoms and trying to find stability in a world that often treats mental illness with fear and misunderstanding. For a while, I gave up on music and gave up on myself. But eventually, through faith, therapy, and the support of a few key people, I began to heal. I picked music back up, not just as a hobby, but as a lifeline—and I haven’t let go since. Today, I use my story to inspire others and reduce the stigma surrounding mental illness, particularly schizophrenia. I speak openly about my journey and advocate for those who often go unheard or unseen. I believe that vulnerability is strength, and by sharing what I’ve been through, I hope to help others feel less alone. Now, as a graduate student in the Music and Music Education program at Teachers College, Columbia University, I am preparing to expand my impact on a much larger scale. My dream is to create accessible, inclusive music programs for youth with mental health challenges and those from low-income communities. I plan to develop music technology tools that make learning and expression possible for students with diverse learning needs, especially those who struggle in traditional classroom settings. One of my long-term goals is to open a nonprofit community center where music and mental health meet. This space would offer free or affordable lessons, therapy-informed group music sessions, and mentorship for young people dealing with mental illness. I also want to pursue a Ph.D. in music technology so I can contribute to research, teach at the university level, and train future educators to approach music instruction with empathy and innovation. Living with schizophrenia has shaped me in ways I never expected. It has made me more compassionate, more determined, and more committed to serving others. I know the power of being given a second chance. I plan to spend my life making sure others get one too—through music, education, and love.

My name is Adrian Oliver, and I am a musician, scholar, and mental health advocate who believes deeply in the power of resilience, education, and the arts to transform lives. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia in my early twenties—a moment that altered the course of my life in ways I could never have imagined. At the time, I was pursuing a degree in music, and the diagnosis forced me to pause my education and focus entirely on my mental health. It was an incredibly difficult period filled with hospitalizations, uncertainty, and the challenge of navigating a world that often misunderstands and stigmatizes mental illness. But I refused to let my diagnosis define my future. With the help of therapy, support programs, and my unwavering faith, I found a path forward—one note at a time. Music became more than a passion; it became my therapy and my purpose. After years of persistence, I completed my Bachelor of Arts in Music and have recently been accepted into the Music and Music Education graduate program at Teachers College, Columbia University. Being accepted into this prestigious institution is more than an academic achievement—it is a symbol of everything I have overcome. At Columbia, I plan to focus on building a career that merges music education with mental health advocacy. My goal is to eventually pursue a Ph.D. in music technology and become a professor, creating inclusive spaces where underserved and neurodivergent students can thrive through the power of music. I believe that every child—regardless of background or mental health status—deserves access to high-quality music education and the emotional and cognitive benefits it brings. Through my career, I want to launch after-school programs and virtual music classrooms for low-income youth, particularly those living with mental illness. I also aim to design adaptive music technology tools that allow students with diverse learning needs to create and express themselves in ways traditional classrooms don’t always allow. In addition, I hope to partner with mental health organizations to create initiatives that promote healing and self-expression through music. My own experience has taught me that adversity can be the foundation for purpose. I’ve gone from nearly giving up on my dreams to standing at the threshold of one of the world’s most respected universities. I want to use my voice, my education, and my journey to inspire others—especially those who feel invisible or incapable because of their mental health challenges. We all have something valuable to offer the world, and I plan to dedicate my life to helping others discover their voice, just as I’ve found mine.

To me, selflessness is not just about occasional good deeds—it’s about a mindset of service, empathy, and stepping in when others are in need, even when it’s inconvenient. Over the years, I’ve come to understand that true leadership and purpose come from helping others rise, especially when you’ve known what it feels like to fall. I strive to embody selflessness through my actions, my time, and my story. One of the most meaningful ways I’ve lived this out is by mentoring youth at a local piano school that serves underserved children and teens in my community. Many of these students come from households marked by poverty, instability, and trauma. I know what that feels like, having grown up in similar circumstances. Rather than just teaching them piano technique, I try to be a consistent, positive presence in their lives—someone who listens without judgment, encourages their dreams, and models resilience. There’s one student in particular who reminds me why I do this work. He came to the school withdrawn, angry, and on the verge of giving up on music. I saw a younger version of myself in him—someone trying to navigate difficult emotions with no clear outlet. I took extra time to connect with him, working with him one-on-one outside of scheduled sessions. Over time, his confidence grew, and he began to smile more and play with purpose. He eventually performed in his first recital, something he had once told me he’d never be able to do. Helping him believe in himself reminded me of the power of showing up for others, especially when they can’t yet show up for themselves. I’ve also been intentional about being there for peers facing mental health struggles. In one case, a friend experiencing severe depression told me he was on the verge of giving up. I stayed by his side, helped him seek professional support, and checked in regularly until he felt stable and supported. I didn’t do it for recognition. I did it because I know what it feels like to be overwhelmed and unsure if anyone cares. It’s in those moments that quiet acts of presence can mean everything. Beyond close relationships, I regularly lend my time and skills to help those around me. I’ve played piano at community events, mentored aspiring musicians, helped others edit résumés and scholarship essays, and even taught free lessons to students who couldn’t afford private instruction. These small actions are driven by a belief that we each have the power to make someone else’s life easier—even in ways that might seem small at first. I don’t come from wealth or status. What I do have is heart, perseverance, and a deep understanding of what it means to need help. I use my lived experience with mental illness and adversity to advocate for those who feel invisible. My acceptance into Columbia University’s Teachers College was not just a personal victory—it was a symbol of everything I want to pass on to others. I hope to one day create programs that combine music education with mental health support, particularly for marginalized youth. Selflessness isn’t about grand gestures. It’s about the quiet choices we make daily—to listen, to encourage, to show up. I’ve learned that when we extend ourselves to others, we not only help them heal—we often heal parts of ourselves, too. I will continue to live a life rooted in service because I know how powerful it is when someone believes in you before you believe in yourself.

Life is inherently hard. I know this to be true not just in theory, but through lived experience. Over the past decade, I’ve faced challenges that could have broken me—but instead, they revealed my strength. I’ve proven that success is not about avoiding hardship, but about how fiercely you rise in its face—and how you bring others with you when you do. At 21, during my junior year in college, I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. I went from being a high-achieving music student to someone who was suddenly navigating hospitals, stigma, and the terrifying unknown of a misunderstood mental illness. I was told by some that school might no longer be an option—that I should “manage my expectations.” But something in me refused to give up. Music became my lifeline. It grounded me when my world felt chaotic and helped me reconnect to myself when I felt lost. Slowly, I began to rebuild. I returned to my studies through an online program and, against all odds, completed my Bachelor of Arts in Music with a 4.0 GPA and President’s List honors. This wasn’t just an academic achievement—it was a personal victory over fear, doubt, and the voices that once told me I couldn’t do it. But my story doesn’t stop at personal triumph. I’ve used what I’ve learned to lift others. I volunteer weekly at a local piano school that serves underserved youth in my community. Many of these students come from low-income households and have experienced trauma. I don’t just teach them music—I mentor them, listen to them, and encourage them to believe in themselves. I share my story openly so they know they’re not alone and that their current circumstances don’t define their future. I also work with community organizations such as Save Our Sons in St. Louis, helping young men in crisis access educational and emotional support. I’ve organized free performances, donated my time to teach music production skills, and provided guidance to other artists battling mental health challenges. I see service not as an obligation, but as an extension of gratitude. I know how important one helping hand can be—because I wouldn’t be here without those who helped me. Recently, I was accepted into the Master of Arts in Music and Music Education program at Teachers College, Columbia University—an Ivy League institution. It’s the culmination of everything I’ve fought for and proof that resilience, when paired with vision and community, can lead to incredible outcomes. My next goal is to become a professor and advocate, merging my passion for music with mental health awareness and social justice. I want to be a bridge for others—to teach, to mentor, and to show what’s possible when we dare to keep going. I’m proud of what I’ve overcome. I’m proud of who I’ve become. And I’m even more proud of what I’ve been able to give back. Life is undeniably hard, but I’ve learned that hardship doesn’t diminish you—it refines you. I’ve turned my pain into purpose, my setbacks into stepping stones, and I continue to strive not only for personal success, but to be a light for others walking through darkness.

My experience with mental health has profoundly shaped my life—guiding my goals, transforming my relationships, and deepening my understanding of the world and my place within it. At 21, I was diagnosed with schizophrenia while studying music in college. That diagnosis came during what should have been the most hopeful and exciting time in my life. Suddenly, everything I had worked for seemed uncertain. I had to step away from school and face not only the symptoms of my condition but also the stigma and isolation that often accompany a mental illness diagnosis. What I didn’t realize then was that this moment of crisis would eventually lead to clarity, strength, and a renewed sense of direction. In terms of my goals, my experience with mental illness completely reshaped how I define success and purpose. Before my diagnosis, I was primarily focused on performance and recognition. I dreamed of composing, producing, and touring. But living with schizophrenia taught me to slow down, to listen to myself, and to think more deeply about how I could use my talents to uplift others. I began to see music not just as a profession, but as a healing force—one that helped me navigate dark times and stay connected to my identity. Today, my goal is to become a college professor and mentor, helping young people—especially those struggling with mental health challenges—see that their diagnosis does not define their destiny. I want to use music as a tool to promote healing, confidence, and self-expression. Mental illness also transformed my relationships. Some connections faded, as not everyone knew how to respond to what I was going through. That loss was painful, but it made me more intentional about the relationships I choose to nurture. I’ve learned to prioritize honesty, empathy, and boundaries in my connections. I’ve also grown closer to those who chose to walk with me through difficult seasons. These people reminded me of my worth when I questioned it most. In turn, I’ve become a better friend, family member, and collaborator—more patient, more compassionate, and more understanding of others’ silent battles. Finally, my experience has profoundly changed how I see the world. I no longer believe in simple definitions of strength or success. I understand that healing is not linear, and that people are often carrying invisible burdens. I’ve seen how systems can fail those with mental health needs and how stigma can silence those who most need to be heard. But I’ve also witnessed incredible resilience—in myself and in others. I now see the world through a lens of radical empathy. I believe that every person deserves to be seen, heard, and supported, especially those who are often overlooked or misunderstood. I was recently accepted into the Master of Arts in Music and Music Education program at Teachers College, Columbia University. This opportunity represents more than academic advancement—it is a symbol of persistence, growth, and purpose. I hope to continue my studies through the doctoral level and create spaces in both education and music where mental health is taken seriously and treated with compassion. In many ways, my experience with mental illness helped me discover who I truly am. It challenged me to rebuild myself from the inside out and showed me that my story has value—not despite my struggles, but because of them. I no longer see my diagnosis as a limitation, but as a part of the story I was given to share. Through education, music, and mentorship, I intend to use that story to make a lasting difference in the lives of others.

My name is Adrian Oliver and my experience with mental health has deeply shaped the way I see myself, others, and the world around me. Being diagnosed with schizophrenia at the age of 21 changed the trajectory of my life. It forced me to confront difficult truths, reexamine my beliefs, reevaluate relationships, and ultimately realign my career goals with a deeper sense of purpose and empathy. Before my diagnosis, I was a college music student, full of dreams and energy, working hard to build a future as a performer and composer. When I first began experiencing symptoms—confusion, isolation, and emotional instability—I didn’t understand what was happening. The diagnosis brought a mix of relief and fear. I finally had an explanation, but I also had to face a reality where the stigma surrounding mental illness was very real and limiting. Initially, my belief system was shaken. I had grown up believing that if I worked hard and stayed focused, things would work out. But mental illness doesn’t always follow a predictable path. I learned that recovery isn’t linear. That lesson, though difficult, helped me develop a more compassionate worldview. I began to believe more in the power of grace—both giving it to myself and extending it to others. I no longer view success as a straight line but as a journey filled with resilience, restarts, and renewed purpose. Mental illness also reshaped my relationships. Some friendships faded, as not everyone knew how to support someone living with schizophrenia. But the experience helped me value deeper, more authentic connections. I became more open about what I was going through, and in doing so, I found community and support in places I hadn’t expected. I learned how to communicate more honestly, how to set boundaries, and how to support others who were struggling. These relational shifts taught me the importance of vulnerability and mutual understanding—values I now carry into every interaction. Perhaps the most significant impact has been on my career aspirations. Before my diagnosis, I imagined a traditional path in music—maybe performance or production. But after everything I’ve experienced, I’ve developed a deep desire to combine my passion for music with advocacy, education, and healing. I want to become a college professor of music who not only teaches but also creates safe, inclusive environments for students—especially those dealing with mental health challenges. My goal is to use music as a tool for empowerment and emotional expression, and to ensure that students know their mental health does not define their potential. This aspiration recently became more tangible when I was accepted into the Master of Arts in Music and Music Education program at Teachers College, Columbia University. Attending Columbia is a dream realized, but it is also a responsibility. I want to represent those who are often unseen or underestimated. I want to challenge stereotypes about what people living with mental illness can achieve. And I want to contribute to a future where education, the arts, and mental health are deeply connected. In the end, my experience with mental health has taught me how to survive, how to rebuild, and how to lead with empathy. It has made me a better listener, a more thoughtful creator, and a more determined scholar. I wouldn’t wish the pain I’ve gone through on anyone—but I also wouldn’t trade the lessons I’ve learned. My mental health journey has not only influenced who I am—it has empowered me to become who I was always meant to be.

My name is Adrian Oliver, and I am a musician, scholar, and mental health advocate. Mental illness has played a significant role in shaping both my personal development and academic journey. While it has brought many challenges, it has also given me a deeper sense of empathy, purpose, and resilience that I now carry into everything I do. At the age of 21, I was diagnosed with schizophrenia during my junior year of college. At the time, I was pursuing a degree in music and deeply invested in my education and future. The diagnosis came as a shock and caused my life to change dramatically. I had to take a step back from my studies to focus on understanding and managing my mental health. During this period, I experienced a great deal of confusion, fear, and uncertainty about what my future might look like. I was told by some professionals that returning to school would be unrealistic and that I should lower my expectations. For a while, I struggled with self-doubt and isolation. The stigma surrounding mental illness, particularly schizophrenia, was difficult to overcome—both within my community and internally. I felt the weight of societal assumptions pressing against me. However, I refused to accept the idea that my diagnosis would define my potential. Slowly and with great effort, I began to rebuild my life. One constant throughout this journey was music. It has always been my greatest source of strength, healing, and self-expression. Even in the most difficult moments, music reminded me of who I was and what I still had to offer the world. Eventually, I returned to my academic pursuits, determined to finish what I had started. I enrolled in an online program and completed my Bachelor of Arts in Music at Thomas Edison State University. Not only did I finish my degree, but I did so with excellence—earning a 4.0 GPA and a place on the President’s List. Mental illness has also affected my family. My mother has lived with her own mental health struggles for many years, and I have seen firsthand the challenges that come with a lack of resources and understanding. These experiences have deepened my compassion for others who face similar struggles and inspired me to become part of the solution. I want to help shift the narrative around mental health—especially for those in marginalized communities—by showing that recovery and success are possible. Recently, I was accepted into the Master of Arts in Music and Music Education program at Teachers College, Columbia University. Attending this Ivy League institution is the fulfillment of a lifelong dream and a powerful milestone in my journey. It represents not just academic achievement, but also triumph over adversity. I hope to use my education to become a college professor, mentor, and leader in the field of music education. I want to create spaces where students feel supported, especially those who are living with mental health challenges. Receiving this scholarship would be a critical step in helping me continue this mission. Financially, I do not have a strong support system. Much of what I have accomplished has been through persistence, faith, and the encouragement of a few mentors who believed in me. With the help of this scholarship, I can continue moving forward without the added stress of financial barriers. More importantly, I will be empowered to give back—to teach, to mentor, and to inspire others to overcome the obstacles in their path. Mental illness is part of my story, but it does not define who I am. I am living proof.

Scholarship Application Essay – Adrian Oliver Master’s in Music and Music Education, Columbia University – Teachers College I am honored to apply for the OMC Scholarship as a newly admitted graduate student in the Music and Music Education program at Teachers College, Columbia University. As someone who has overcome extraordinary life challenges, I believe deeply in the transformative power of education—not just as a personal milestone, but as a vehicle to uplift others. Receiving this scholarship would be a critical step toward helping me realize my dream of making a meaningful impact in the world through music education. My journey has not been easy. At the age of 21, while pursuing my undergraduate degree in music, I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. The years that followed were some of the most difficult of my life. I was in and out of hospitals, battling an illness that tried to silence not only my voice, but also my dreams. For a time, I gave up music completely. I lost my academic footing, my financial stability, and my support system. But I never lost the spark that music ignited within me. Despite years of personal hardship, I returned to my studies with renewed determination. I completed my bachelor’s degree in music with a 4.0 GPA—studying in public libraries, teaching myself between therapy sessions, and pushing through immense mental health challenges with the belief that education could restore what life had once taken from me. That belief was confirmed when I received my acceptance letter to Columbia University. It was a dream I never thought I’d reach, and yet, here I am—ready to begin this new chapter. As someone from a low-income background, financing graduate education at an Ivy League institution is daunting. I rely on Social Security Income and Medicaid, and I’ve experienced housing insecurity for years. This scholarship would ease the heavy financial burden and allow me to focus fully on my education and professional development. More importantly, it would affirm that individuals like me—those who’ve faced the darkest of days—can still rise, contribute meaningfully to society, and lead with empathy and excellence. The OMC Scholarship represents more than financial aid—it embodies the values I live by: perseverance, purpose, and the desire to uplift others through education. I plan to use my master’s degree to design inclusive music education programs that reach underserved communities, particularly those affected by poverty, disability, and trauma. I want to create spaces where students who feel silenced, as I once did, can find their voice through music. This degree will equip me with the pedagogical tools and research foundation to become a leader in community-based music education. My long-term goal is to establish a nonprofit that integrates mental health advocacy with music instruction—empowering youth through creative expression and resilience training. I envision music classrooms that don’t just teach performance but inspire healing, connection, and transformation. I am committed to excellence, not only academically but also in how I serve others. I bring lived experience, a deep sense of empathy, and an unwavering commitment to impact lives through education. This scholarship would be an investment not only in my future but in the countless students I will mentor, teach, and uplift. Thank you for considering my application. I am ready to take on this next chapter with courage, humility, and purpose—and with the help of the OMC Scholarship, I will have the foundation to turn personal triumph into lasting change. Sincerely, Adrian Oliver

Hello my name is Adrian Oliver and I’m a Masters of Music Business student at Berklee College of music in Boston, MA and I was recently admitted to Harvard Business online for their sustainable Investing course for the March of 2024 cohort, which amazes me each day, being from where I’m from. Ever since I was a 10 years old I’ve been a go getter, my late uncle who served in Vietnam instilled that in me, who was somewhat of a father figure as well. At 8 years old I was buying wholesale snacks, to resell to my middle school peers and, I knew exactly what wholesale meant. By the time I was 15 years old, I was at Edward’s Jones trying to buy 800 dollars worth of apple stock, which the broker told me was a gamble, if he had let me buy them, I would have had $80,000 by my 18th birthday, luckily we have Robin Hood Today. I’m a huge dreamer, I’ve always wanted to own my own business, today I have two, a music publishing company and a taxation real estate company which are both getting off the ground. I was raised by single mother who is ill now, so when I work hard it is to repay for getting me this far. School and life in general wasn’t always smooth sailing for me, I over came a lot. At the age of 7 I had a traumatic head injury and I would have seizures until the age of 12 because of that, I missed the entire 5th grade, I was expected to pass away. At the age of 21 after a traumatic event, I was diagnosed with Schizophrenia, I dropped out of college my junior year and didn’t return for 9 years until the age of 30 years old. I graduated college at 31 from Thomas Edison State University a few days before my 32nd birthday with a 4.0 institutional GPA. Bringing me to my current situation at Berklee College of music where I hold a 4.0 Graduate GPA. Life has been going well for the first time and I’m a little afraid sometimes that it’s going to all fall apart sometimes, which is my worst nightmare. Schizophrenia took a huge toll on my life, and also left me in a huge amount of debt with school over $100,000. I’m a fighter when I was really ill I kept trying to go back to school, I would fail every semester, but I would try. I serve in my community as a business owner and music educator and friend, I try to be the best man I can be at all times. I’m a huge advocate of education rather it’s from a University or YouTube, I share what I’ve learned with anyone who will listen. I want to stay in school, I’m considering getting a second masters from Columbia University in their Master’s of Music education, which the director has shown strong interest in my application even stating they will be looking forward to it. Scholarship towards my student loans would do me great justice, I’ve had a hard time with school, with not much financial support, I’m a first generation college student and graduate student, which has been quite a challenge but it my responsibility to push forward and I own that task proudly. Having help pay off college could put, me closer to owning a home, closer to getting funding for my businesses to get off the ground and just a better shot at life. Any help is appreciated, in gratitude.

Dr. Martin Luther King Once Said, “The function of education is to teach one to think intensively and to think critically. Intelligence plus character – that is the goal of true education.” Education is one of the most powerful tools in human development. Education can turn a homeless man into a CEO. Education can turn a convicted man into a lawyer. Education can free a man from bondage and slavery. I’m proud to say I am a black man who values education, very dearly. I grew up on section 8 and food stamps, my mother developed a mental illness when I was ten years old. Education wasn’t preached in my home; I didn’t see many people go to college in my community. So, when I went to college and in my junior year, the stress caused me to develop schizophrenia, and my dreams were shattered. I got on medication, I kept fighting. I kept reading, I kept practicing my musical instrument. I became closer to God by reading the bible. I was a grown man, with a college background, and my illness almost caused me to not be able to read. I gained a lesson in humility I almost lost my ability to comprehend the world around me. I graduated this past September from university with a 4.0 GPA and I was accepted into what billboard magazine calls the best Music Business school in the United States, Berklee College of Music. I had so many odds stacked against me and having the opportunity to receive an education moved mountains in my life. I gained a lesson in humility, the ability to even use our minds to a full capacity is a privilege. I know the importance of passing an education on to my children so they can overcome it just as I did. I recently watched an interview with Robert Smith, the wealthiest Black man in American history on earn your leisure. Smith stated he was a 4th generation college student, it makes a difference. Education brought healing and change into my life; it broke the curses set before me. Education gave me a fighting chance. I learned to speak my truth and plant seeds even when, I feel no one is listening, even when there is no sunshine, because you never know where they will grow. I will pass the value of an education to my children and I hope my grandchild will do the same.

Life can be tricky sometimes. I am a black man living in Saint Louis Missouri, often ranked in the top 5 of American crime rates. I have a diagnosis of schizophrenia. I didn’t have a father; I grew up in a single-parent home from a mother with debilitating mental illness. I am often deemed as a double negative statistic. On top of that, I’m twice as likely to be denied funding when I apply for a home or business loan. I’m twice as likely not to be hired in a job interview. So, I start my life with student loan debt, now what? I went to college because, the inheritances of wisdom and finances were not passed down to me, from my father or grandfather. I wanted to create my narrative. Many black men in my city go to jail before the age of 25, and I didn’t want that for myself. How do I process all of this? First, I am not a victim, I have the power to change anything if my life for the better. I’m a firm believer that God will move mountains, but we have to be willing to put in the work. I don’t plan to spend the rest of my life paying student debt. I will create a business, that will change the narrative of my family. My children will not have student debt. I will own multi-family real estate. Business and entrepreneurship have always been my passion. Most of the world will pay their student loan debt off paycheck to paycheck. I will create an investment portfolio to automate my student loan payments. I will invest in real estate and dividends-paying stocks, strategically. One or two multifamily properties can automate a student loan payment system for most Americans. Programs such as NACA and FHA make home ownership available to most people. High-yield dividend EFTs from the likes of Invest Co and Vanguard can pay high returns on cash and turn cash into a cash cow. Learning to work more intelligently with money is my goal and strategy to pay off my student loans quickly. I am a musician, and I want to spend my life creating art it is my life’s passion. Long hours working a job for the rest of my life with my only goal being to pay bills and die to Uncle Sam doesn’t make sense to me. I need this scholarship as an investment in my future generations, if given a chance I will change the world.

Growing up below the poverty line in South Saint Louis, I watched my single mom go to food pantries on the bus line every week so my sister and I wouldn’t go hungry. Organizations like the urban league and a multitude of local churches saved my family. Things weren’t always hard for us, mother witnessed a murder and developed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder when we were very young, and it took its toll. If it wasn’t for good people, I don’t know where my family would be. When I got the opportunity to lend my gifts to help a nonprofit organization in my community, I jumped at the chance. I’m fortunate enough to lend my expertise to a wonderful group of young men and women in my community who love music deeply. I'm a volunteer assistant piano teacher and a local nonprofit called pianos for people. Pianos for people is an outreach program that serves children and even senior citizens who are disadvantaged and can’t afford music lessons. I love sharing my gifts and helping young people thrive. Not having many positive role models, I know the importance of young men and women having positive images of adults in their community, especially young black men because there are so many other things they can get into. How I plan to give back is by continuing to make myself available. I’m an introverted person so sometimes communicating my ideals can be a changeling. I realized that sometimes giving back is bigger than us. I would love to get more involved in teaching youth about starting businesses with their art and using it to better the lives of others. Teaching young men and women how to incorporate their LLCs would be a pleasure. I could teach youth musicians how accessible it is to make music for film and television as a business. Musicians need to know that there are stem careers in tech and music. I don’t have a solid plan for how to do all these things I would be dishonest if I said I did, but I will find a way. I often felt like I didn't have a voice as a youth. It took a while to come out of my shell. I have been fortunate enough to graduate college and have been accepted to a great graduate school. These things may seem against all odds for many black men and women in my community. I want to give back by showing my community anything is possible and to strive for greatness.

I am Adrian Christopher Oliver, and my love for art comes in the form of music. I am a first-generation college student, and I am a first-generation musician. I am a pianist, guitarist, composer, and audio producer. I feel that the arts, specifically music, have a healing power found in no other discipline because it indeed healed me. I came to love music as a child and specifically became a student of music after traumatic events. In my adolescent years, I had a challenging life. I grew up poor, but loved. In the 5th grade, I suffered a head injury from seizures; I went from the playground to living in a hospital. Eventually, I overcame it. A year later, I witnessed the murder of two very close family members. I had experienced more pain than I had ever had before; I spent many of my days in tears. The family member who passed away was my cousin; we grew up together, were best friends, and he was ten years old. I only took one thing to remember him by in his passing, and I took his small 25-key Yamaha keyboard. The song built into the small toy keyboard reminded me of my cousin; I went on to learn how to play that song. I spent my entire grade school academic career specializing in music. I became a multi-instrumentalist and music producer, and I graduated from a visual performing arts high school with a 3.9 my senior year. I was accepted to Webster University's conservatory. I was fortunate enough to study with a sweet but very stern woman who was a former pianist with the Saint Louis Symphony Orchestra. As a musician, she left me with a quote, "you will have to steal, sample, and borrow to survive as an artist," It stuck with me for the rest of my life. A career in the arts is essential to me because It allows me to steal my joy, I can play a happy song, or I can write a sad Symphony. I can tell my story through music and leave my legacy through music. I can change my Identity through music. There are so many ways an artist can express themselves and make a living. I honestly could not see myself doing anything else. I graduated from Berklee Online with a certificate and from Thomas Edison State University with a Bachelor of Arts In Music in May 2022. My goal is to study music business at Berklee College of Music's graduate school and better understand music entrepreneurship and a career as a creative and an artist. I have received letters of recommendation for my former professors, who are Harvard Law and New England Conservatory graduates.

My name is Adrian Oliver, I’m a music composer and in 2012, I was diagnosed with Schizophrenia. My mental health is my reality, but is not my identity. Having schizophrenia caused me to put my academic career on hold but not my dreams. Before my diagnosis I had a challenging life, but music was my heart’s healer. At the age of 11 I joined my middle school’s band; I played trombone. I also found a knack for making beats in FL Studio which became my life’s passion. I grew up in a single parent household with a mother who suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. My mother was often angry and distant from me and my younger sister, we never understood why; this was my first experience dealing someone with a mental illness. I was often yelled at for practicing music, which was challenging because I truly loved music. To escape my painful childhood I was determined to go to college. I enrolled at an visual performing arts high school and found a true love for the piano; I would practice for hours often skipping social outings and even school lunches. My obsession with the piano earned me a scholarship as a music major at Webster University’s conservatory. My junior year at Webster University, life became challenging. Due to financial difficulties, I had to move back home. I had developed relationships with toxic friends, and the stress of upper level conservatory work took a huge toll on me. I soon fell ill. During this time I had no ideal what was happening to me, I began to imagine things, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t complete my course work, so I dropped out. I spent the next few years in an out of hospitals, I had little support and I didn’t fully comprehend what was going on with my body. One doctor told me if you don’t start talking care of your self, eventually it will be to late. Eventually I said enough was enough. I became active on medication, healthy eating, prayer and self care. I was starting to feel like my old self again. Little by little I started talking classes at the community college in music, where I found a love for Jazz music. With great faith, I was blessed with the opportunity to study Jazz composition at Berklee College of Music, a goal I had set for my self almost a decade before. In May of 2022, completed my Bachelors Degree at Thomas Edison State University, my dreams came true! Recently I was fortunate enough to land a position as an in house producer at Push.audio, a music publisher who has a huge track record of producing music for national tv campaigns, feature films in Hollywood and Netflix. I’m living my dream; against the odds. I haven’t been hospitalized for my mental health in almost 5 years and I have received two recommendations to Study at Berklee College of Music for Graduate school from distinguished Berklee professors.