There are so many times as performers where we start to feel like it isn't worth it anymore. The endless hours locked in a practice room become debilitating. Competing to be the best becomes mentally taxing. We start to lose our passion.  Then we stand on that stage. We look at the people sitting wide-eyed and clapping profusely. We hear the gorgeous sound made by so many talented musicians. Now it makes sense: this is why I do what I do.  My "why?" is the euphoric feeling music gives me. To know that beautiful humans are the ones producing it is even better. Throughout the difficult aspects of being an aspiring musician, I keep my "why?" as the north star. It goes beyond the actuality of being a musician. I am currently pursuing a degree in music education. My goal of becoming a music educator is quite personal, and my reasons are what keep me motivated in my passion.  Too often, children are deprived of a proper education in the arts. Art and music teachers fight every day for the work we do to be taken seriously. One particular statement that resonates with me is one from my high school theater director: "I will never understand how they [the administration] can oppose the excellence of our students and accept mediocrity." Growing up in a Title 1 school district gave me a real eye opener to how underappreciated music is in schools. As a student, I saw the benefits. Not only were we creating such amazing sound, but we were having fun in the process. To have a moment of finally getting a song down or learning a new scale on your instrument is a wonderful feeling. Everything I need to know about life, I learned in band. We teach time management, hard work, teamwork, discipline, good character, speaking skills, poise, presence, and I could go on. When I am faced with having to sit through yet another board meeting where our program could be cut and I wonder if I should even keep trying, I think of what my students would be losing. During high school, I built strong bonds with my music teachers. I wondered if they knew that they were not just music teachers to myself and my friends, but therapists, comedians, and tutors. As I mentioned earlier, I attended a Title 1 school district. We were "the ones who wouldn't be going anywhere." My friends and I saw band as a way to escape these preconceived notions. Most students get to believe that can be anything they want; my students will be right about that. I am motivated every day to make sure full access to music education is granted to those who may not be as fortunate. For too long, we have left the world of music only open to those who have unlimited resources.  I practice my instrument not only for myself but for my future students. I involve myself in so many ensembles, so I always get to hear a triumphant sound bounce off the walls of the concert hall I am in. In the future, outside of my teaching and performance career, I plan to create a studio: "Everywhere, Everyone, All the Time." I started mapping out my idea for this studio in 2023. I plan on it being a music studio specifically meant to be a resource for underprivileged students looking to get involved in music; however, all students are welcome. There would also be ensembles within the studio. One of which I plan to have would be an all female percussion ensemble. Encouraging women to engage in percussive arts is an extreme passion of mine. Music is not just heard. It is felt. Teaching is not just for students to listen to. It is to be applied to their lives. My "why?" is to feel.

Creating music has been my strongest passion since I was ten years old. My best friend convinced me to become a "drummer" in our elementary band. From then, drummer became "percussionist," which became "musician.". The journey to majoring in music has been one that I will never forget. My passion constantly goes from being the high of my life to the low of my life. However, seeing my progress and getting to hear what all the endless hours of work have become makes everything click in my head. Throughout my time as a student in the world of music, I have performed with travel bands in my hometown, my high school marching band, where I served as sergeant and drum major, concert band, symphonic ensemble, and our county honors band. My opportunities have only grown since I started my first semester as a music education major. Studying percussion is extremely personal to me. With growing up as the quietest person in class and constantly getting told to speak up, the loudest of the percussion family did not seem the most ideal. Despite this, I knew why I was so drawn to the family—there are so many different areas, and you are never confined to one part of the family. It also taught me the importance of breaking out of the shell you have built for yourself. Percussion is also extremely nuanced. I have always connected these nuances to the details you need to pay attention to when you are following a path as a music educator. Attending grade school in a Title 1 district blocked off access to many opportunities that other schools were able to have. Being labeled as the kids who "wouldn't be going anywhere" was hurtful. There were so many students who did not bother to keep trying because of so many who had no faith. Adding to this disadvantage was that our administrators did not value the beauty of our arts program. Our choir director had said, "I will never be able to understand how they can oppose the excellence of our students and accept mediocrity." Witnessing and experiencing these challenges during high school pushed me to go after my goal after I finish my degree in music education. I have dreams of teaching in a Title 1 school similar to the one I grew up in. Every child deserves the chance to feel like they can be whoever they want, and I will never give up on making sure my students feel like that. I also plan to incorporate the foundations of music therapy into my teaching. So many musicians struggle with their own views of themselves, which often leads to a decline in mental health. We also see this with students who are simply battling a lot behind the scenes and look to music for an escape. I dream of teaching in a classroom where students can feel the most comfort and happiness. Most students get to feel like they can do anything they set their mind to; my students will be right about that.

It has been a massive part of my life since I was 10 years old. It started out as a hobby my best friend managed to rope me into, but around the end of sixth grade, I decided that I really wanted to be a talented player and help others become one as well. I will be attending West Chester University as a music education major in the fall to continue my passion. If I were to be asked why I want to become a music educator, I would say it is because music brings me so much joy. However, if I were to be asked on a deeper level, I would tell the story of myself and my hometown. Since my earliest years of schooling, I have been a student in a Title 1 district. Title 1 schools consist of students with very difficult financial situations and are commonly part of minority groups. While we had a rich sense of culture and family in our city, we experienced the effects of stereotypes. We were perceived by our board of education as "the ones who won't be going anywhere." We were the ones who were "too busy fighting." We were an afterthought for the people we thought cared about our futures. Because of these notions, many of us decided that there was no point in trying and that we should just settle for simply making it out alive.  Due to the lack of funding in our arts program, we frequently had to rely on resourcefulness. My fellow musicians and I would watch other schools at our competitions wheel in their brand new props, while our parents diligently worked on the ones they handmade themselves. In the county band, we'd hear other students talk about the new equipment they were just gifted; meanwhile, my friend and I were tying together castanets with a hair tie. Despite all of our difficulties, we were blessed with directors who fought endlessly for us. When some of us needed an escape from life, the band room was where we went. Music helped us cope with what it meant to be underestimated and underappreciated. When the world felt like it was slipping away, we came together, even just for a rehearsal, to forget about it all.  My biggest goal in life is to become a high school director for a Title 1 school. Underfunded schools need teachers who have the same experience as the students currently attending. My directors were able to show us the beauty of music and how much it can turn someone's life around. Our theater director said, "I will never understand how they can oppose excellence and accept mediocrity." No child should be denied success. I want to build strong support systems in Title 1 areas. It does not matter where you come from; instead, it matters where you go. To ensure I am the best director I can be, I will be specifically studying the psychology and benefits of music education in schools. Most students get to feel like they can be anything they want; my students will be right about that.

The intense passion I have for music has fueled my goal of becoming a music educator, specifically a high school band director for a Title 1 district. Title 1 districts hold high percentages of students with low-income backgrounds and other difficulties. This goal is incredibly special to me because I grew up in a Title 1 district. The majority of my city's population was made up of low-income families and members of minority groups. While our city was rooted in culture and carried a sense of belonging, we faced many challenges. We were considered the students who "wouldn't be going anywhere." The adults around us only saw our backgrounds, not who we really were.  Many of us escaped these notions through our involvement in music. Our directors fought intensely to give us the education and experience we all deserved but were never given. Inside the band room walls, friendships were made, lifelong lessons were learned, and wonderful people were raised. We were able to finally feel like it did not matter where we came from, but instead where we were going. For years, I have aspired to become an educator who strives to bring the joy of music to students who do not get access to all the wonders it comes with. I remember competing in high school and hearing the snickers from other schools as we brought out props that were handmade. I remember the constant rejections from administration when our program needed new equipment, so we tied together instruments with hair ties, and how could I forget sitting in board meetings as the nine adults in front of my peers and I debated our chances of success?  Music is not something you only hear; it is something you feel deeply. Without our music program, I do not think many of us would have made it to graduation. Music will be my key to ensuring that underprivileged children will have access to a wonderful future. No child should have to face the idea of their excellence being opposed by people who do not believe in them. I have seen it far too many times. I was able to find happiness in music, and obtaining my music education degree would only help me spread that happiness. Most students get to believe they can be anything they want; my students will be right about that. (Solo video/conducting performance pictures included)

Music is not to be heard, it is to be felt. Being involved in band has allowed me to know what beauty can come from music. I plan on attending college for Music Education. I have hopes of being a high school band director, and spreading the joy of music to students who may not have full access to it. I am most passionate about proving the point that it doesn't matter where you come from, it matters where you go. Growing up in a Title 1 school district, I saw firsthand what it meant to be underestimated because of your background; I want my students in the future to know that they have just as much an opportunity as anyone else.  Music has also helped me grow my passion for dance. I have been dancing for twelve years, but when I started to take my life as a musician more seriously, it only helped me grow an appreciation for the musicality and emotion that a dancer can bring to music.  When asked about someone I look up to, my mind wanders to Viola Smith. Viola Smith is a female drummer, one of the first, who is known for her orchestra and swing band work. Her and I share similar struggles when it comes to being taken seriously as female percussionists.   Smith wrote an article, “Give Girl Musicians a Break!” where she argued her views on including women in the music industry. She was not only an excellent percussionist, but a tremendous advocate for women as drummers. Smith, amongst many others, was able to prove that women could master their craft and get the job done the same way a man could. She reminds me to not give up on the goals I’ve set for myself simply because of what other people may think. I have always wanted to continue breaking the preconceived notion that percussion is more masculine; the field is dominated by men, but it does not have to be. Across my high school years, I have had plenty of teachers who have encouraged me to work hard just as women like Smith have. I am reminded by my friends and instructors that my instrument of choice is not ruining my femininity, or incorrect for a lady, all of which I have heard in the past.  Thinking about how I can improve on my personal performance as a musician, I admire Viola Smith’s area of expertise in swing rhythms. I have only recently started working on jazz music, but I can see progress. Sometimes, working on a set can be overwhelming for me, but remembering girls before me who are amazing at it encourages me to keep working. Music allows performers to show what they can't say out loud. There is a certain comfort that comes from that. Being a music educator will allow me to reach younger generations and make sure music lives on to be an inspiration for change in our world. During my career, I also plan to participate in ensembles to keep my love for music growing.

"Jumping bean" "Casey, sit still." "You need to make eye contact." These were all phrases I heard before I accepted my ADHD. While my disorder has given me obstacles, I have fought to achieve the best. I am attending college for music education, with a minor in music therapy. My goal is to show the world that it doesn't matter where you come from, but instead where you go. My ADHD has taught me an important lesson: I should not look for a way around my problems, rather a way through.  Growing up, I could never sit still. Whether it was bouncing my leg up and down or dancing around my kitchen, I could not stand the restriction of not moving, even for a few minutes. My parents thought dancing would be a good way for me to freely get to move, and I thank them for that because dance is one of my many passions now. My inability to stay in one spot has allowed me to become a pre-professional dancer. Unfortunately, there were times when staying still was the only option. Being a dancer meant lots of makeup all the time. My older sister adored doing her makeup, so she would always do mine for recitals. It was only until my senior year that I was able to explain to her why I made doing my makeup a two hour process. Having to sit on a chair in front of her, without being able to sit in obscure positions to stimulate a calm feeling and without being able to fidget was agonizing. She could not understand why. I explained to her that it felt like hours of being trapped with nowhere to go.  I had an easy time focusing in elementary and middle school, but high school became difficult. There were so many sounds around me and objects to interact with. When the focusing became difficult, it led to procrastination. In the end, I would ultimately get all my tasks completed, but the stress that came from my lack of focus and my procrastination was immense. Thankfully, these two "burdens" actually became the driving factors of my creativity. My mind is always traveling to new ideas, and when I have a few good ones, that is when I am able to focus. The spur of the moment is when my brain has its best ideas. ADHD has given me new ways to think. Emotions are difficult to regulate with ADHD. It can feel like inside my head one emotion just lets it all out and banishes the rest for a short period of time. This often led to me experiencing issues with social cues. These times are when I felt like my ADHD would trap me forever, but as I got older, I decided I wanted to be friends with what made me different. I should not let my disorder run my life, but I should not try to repress it either. I used to struggle with public speaking for multiple reasons. I was shy, I had a stuttering problem, and I had ADHD. I decided sophomore that I was going to enter pageantry. I worked on my speech, and I learned how to make my body feel safe when I wanted to fidget. Now, I speak to the board of education, I am an assistant dance teacher for my studio, and I spread my many pageantry platforms, where I discuss why every child has the opportunity to grow. Overcoming the challenges of ADHD can be hard, but there is never a time where we are alone..

Being very involved in my school meant being very involved in my whole community as well. In high school I balanced being an honors student with a 4.3 GPA in many leadership positions with studying as a pre-professional dancer. Up until graduating, I studied all genres of dance for twelve years, and I now plan to continue dancing in college.  Throughout my high school experience, I loved getting to be a part of the little things that became big memories for myself and my friends. One of the most incredible parts was being a marching band member. I marched with my high school band for four years, where I was Band Sergeant junior year and Drum Major senior year. During my four years, I also received Rookie of Year and the Role Model Award. Some of my happiest memories came from this band, and it was one of the many reasons I will be pursuing music education to be a band director of a Title 1 school. Music became a bigger part of my life when I joined Concert Ensemble, serving as the student leader all four years, and became a member of our County Honors Band.  Clubs were extremely important to me in school because my best friends were found during the many meetings. Being a class officer allowed me to reach my entire graduating class of 653 students. Alongside office, I served as the president of the National Honor Society and Tri M Music Honor Society, where I got to introduce our NHS members to some of my favorite community service projects. I was given the opportunity to spread my pageantry platform, "The Importance of Music Education in Children's Mental Health," through Tri M. Lastly, I got to enjoy being a part of our academic team as well as Council for Exceptional Children, a club designed to bring diversity and disability awareness in communities.  Volunteerism and community service are quite special to me, not only because it is helping the environment around you, but also because when you participate in these activities, you learn qualities about yourself that you never knew you had. Student leadership allowed me to help with many community events. Since my sophomore year, I have been participating in the Little League Challenger Division, where you are assigned to be a “buddy” to one of the players on the teams that has either an intellectual or physical disability. Watching them enjoy the game of baseball is incredibly joyful. On the lines of disability awareness, I have been an assistant teacher at my dance studio, Arts of the Dance, for seven years. This year in particular is quite special for me, as one of our students has Down Syndrome and is non-verbal. I knew right away these qualities would not stop her because they are who she is, and they certainly do not and should not block her from the beauty of dance. I have been working with her privately from our other students, and she has now begun dancing with the group. They all love her, and she loves them. People often say that community service and volunteerism gives them a gratifying feeling of accomplishment that they can show off, however, I have never looked for its benefits in how it made me look to other people, rather, I looked for its benefits in how I interact with the world—we are all special in our own ways, and we will not ever realize it until we branch out to see how beautiful our world can really be if we put a little effort into it.

Growing up, I always knew I wanted a career in education. It originally started with wanting to pursue Special Education. I went through elementary school being in inclusion rooms. I was around children different than me, and it became a big part of my life: making life-long friendships, becoming educated on serious situations at an early age, and learning what it truly meant to be kind. Fifth grade rolled around and my now best friend told me he really wanted me to consider playing drums in our elementary band. I had been wanting to play an instrument for quite some time, so I decided to give it a shot. He is now one of the many people I credit for my major now, which is Music Education. However, I do not plan to throw away the other part of myself that has Special Education as a career path.  I plan to work in a Title 1 high school as a band director and studio music teacher. I want to encourage students the same way my teachers did. Special education interest has also allowed me to learn how to work with diverse learners. I am quite passionate about making children who have language barriers, disabilities, or non-idealistic backgrounds a part of the beauty that is music. I believe growing up around these situations has allowed me to know that music offers endless opportunities, and what makes it even better is that everyone can be included. I am passionate about the small details of music and instrumentals because it symbolizes the small details that need to be paid attention to in a student by their teacher. My goal in my career is to show a student the joy of music in their most pivotal moments of finding out who they are: their teen years. Attending college as a music major will help me reach impoverished students. During my education, I will learn many new skills, such as how to play every instrument under the sun, personal pedagogy, and how to teach diverse learners. College will also help me fulfill my love of performing. Being a music educator is the perfect balance for me, as I hope to carry on arts education in schools, while also pursuing my own performance career. Through student teaching and performing, I will learn what I hope to instill in my future students: hard work, teamwork, time management, and leadership. Doing this for a Title 1 district would heal our suffering arts programs today. It would also heal what I could not have when I was in a Title 1 district myself. My directors fought endlessly for our students, only to most times be let down by their higher ups. Our theater director once said, "I will never understand how they can oppose the excellence of their students and accept mediocrity." Furthering my education will assist me in breaking the cycle.  There will be change brought to how Title 1 districts are treated. Everyone deserves a fair opportunity and the feeling of being loved and supported. Changing this preconceived notion that you can only have big dreams if you start out big is my dream. It does not matter where you come from, but rather where you go. Most students grow up thinking they can do anything; my students will be right about that.

I have desired to go into education for the longest time, but the desire to pursue music education became apparent for me in high school. Women are slowly starting to become more respected in all fields. However, an area that is still experiencing exclusion is within the music industry, particularly in percussion. Percussion is a beautiful instrument family that I was welcomed to at the age of 10. Unfortunately, percussion has a reputation of not being the most inclusive for women. It is often known as “the boy instrument” due its involvement with striking the instruments and its involvement with complicated tools and heavy parts. The sexism and blatant misogyny started to truly hit me in high school. I remember the stares and giggles from others when I tried on my high school’s set of marching tenor quad drums: five drums hanging off a harness that is carried on your shoulders. This would be the start of many negatives: intrusive questions about my sexuality, sarcastic questions like,“Do you need help with that?” when I would pick up my drum or “Are you lost? The flute room is to your left.” when I auditioned for an all state high school ensemble as the only female percussionist, and of course, the underestimation of my intelligence when it came to basic hardware, because surely a woman couldn’t do it. Still, I pushed through the tough stereotypes. I am the Drum Major of my marching band and the percussion section leader. In order to push through, I had to remember times like during my first parade where a young girl yelled, “Mommy! Look at the girl in the middle!” or when I became the first female tenor player at my high school. My accomplishments and encouragement from my staff to fight to make a seat for myself at a table dominated by men allowed me to pursue Music Education. I have hopes of being a high school band director, and spreading the joy of music to students who may not have full access to it. I am most passionate about proving the point of it does not matter where you come from, it matters where you go. Growing up in a Title 1 School District, I saw first-hand what it meant to be underestimated because of your background; I want my students in the future to know that they have just as much an opportunity as anyone else. A simple spring concert can be what a student with a non-idealistic life needs to keep going. My band family are people I will remember for the rest of my life and they saved me during my toughest times. There are so many underprivileged students out there who are begging to be heard and listened to. I think music is the perfect way for me to reach them as music is not something you only hear, but it is something you feel deeply. I am fully aware that being a teacher at a low-income school has its downsides with pay, and it is hard to find inspiration when many do not want to support your students. I see it every day as a student now. This will not stop me from changing this preconceived notion that you can only have big dreams if you start out big or that you cannot have strong femininity in an area where men underestimate you. It does not matter where you come from, but rather where you go. Most students grow up thinking they can do anything; my students will be right about that.

When I hear the phrase "One Heart, One Beat" I am immediately drawn to looking at it through a drum major's eyes. I am the drum major of my high school marching band and during the time I have served with my band I have learned quite a lot. I have learned that putting others on the same priority level as yourself is extremely important, especially when you are a leader. On and off the field, we are one. Music has been a staple in my life since I was ten and I am pursuing music education at West Chester University. This decision has much to do with my high school experience in the band. I grew up in a Title 1 district, meaning we did not have much money and our students came from rough backgrounds. This also meant we were underestimated. To hear that we were "the ones who would not be going anywhere" from our own board of education was infuriating. Music was a way for my peers and myself to escape these notions. I can fully relate "One Heart, One Beat" to being on the field during a performance. Our love for music is so incredibly strong, as it is not just something one hears but something to feel deeply. Being on top of a stand in front of my band members conducting to a tempo that everyone makes the decision to follow is rewarding. The trust we have in each other to listen to each other's instrumental sound and to watch each other form beautiful shapes across 120 yards is where we become one musician. Suddenly, nothing else matters but what we left on that field and for the world to see. Looking to my future self, where I am hopefully a band director for a Title 1 school just as the one I cherished so deeply, I see two quotes hanging on signs in my band room: "Where words fail, music speaks" and "We can be the bands we want to hear". "One Heart, One Beat" would be one I would add. It emphasizes the unity and synchronization I have gotten to experience as a drum major. Despite us being a group of students with not the most idealistic lives, we harmonize musically and through our souls. There is no one I can thank more than my directors for the kind of leader I am leaving high school as. Even when we did not get the love and support from our administration, our directors never gave up on pushing for a stronger program. They never gave up on us when we went through the roughest patches in our lives. They are excellent role models to me, not just because of how they teach, but how they have shown us the importance of hard work, time management, and teamwork. As a future teacher, I want my students to feel the same amount of unity I experience in high school and college marching bands. I want them to know where you come from does not determine where you go. Most students get to grow up thinking they can be anything they want; my students will be right about that. (Included is my last concert conducting a broadway arrangement)

Circles, Triangles, Squares, Pentagons. Red, Yellow, Blue, Green. Seemingly innocent words strung together are actually code names for academic success. I was a Green Pentagon. I was “gifted” in all subjects. Five other students and I would draw our backyard with the sun in the corner in typical first grade fashion on the back of our spelling tests. While the other students took their spelling tests, we drew on the back, waiting for the separate spelling test we were to take. Other children were getting reprimanded for struggling, while I was taken out of the room to work on science projects. Other children checked out whatever books they wanted, while I was told “Put that back, it’s too easy of a read.” Circles, Triangles, Squares, Pentagons. I am in middle school now and take “Accelerated” classes. I vividly remember my guidance counselor coming into my homeroom math class and saying “You are our finest learners.” I went through the three years of middle school, rarely having to study. Suddenly, I received my first B in a marking period. I was supposed to be the school’s finest. Clearly I hadn’t worked hard enough. I am a Green Pentagon. I am in high school now. I fill up my eight hour day with AP and Honors classes leaving no time for lunch, but I am “an AP kid” so I am not allowed to feel overworked. I am “an AP kid” so I should know how to study. I am “an AP kid” so I should not be putting my passions before my academics– even if I dream of being a high school band director. I wonder if I will get to teach different shapes. I wonder if my students will get to experience what it means to work with different shapes and colors. Circles, Triangles, Squares, Pentagons. I am graduating next month. I am pursuing music education. I want to show students the wonders of music because it is not something that you only hear, it is something you feel. I am working countless hours perfecting my playing. I started to realize that I was not smarter than the Red Circles, or the Yellow Triangles, or the Blue Squares. I learned as I got older that there were going to be times where I was a Red Circle, times where I was a Yellow Triangle, times where I was a Blue Square, and times where I was a Green Pentagon. I have learned through my musical experience that your shape does not equal who you will turn out to be. I could not be more grateful to work with many shapes and colors. I want my students to know that they are not tied down to their academic groups. I dream of proving that music and arts are not a waste of time; my students will know that they can be a Red Circle in math, and be a Green Pentagon in music. Sometimes Circles, sometimes Pentagons.

The queasiness, restlessness, blurry vision, closed throat, hyperventilating, crying, and feeling as if there were an elephant on my chest was going to have to become a part of my life. I told my freshman self this. I was not aware until my sophomore year that I was experiencing panic attacks. This became the known reality in the very back of my chemistry class. Sixteen year old me was anxious about many things this day: junior class office elections, marching band officer auditions, and the sadness of my best friend (and crush) getting a girlfriend. I wish I had the ability to say "Looking back, I have no idea why I was so worried!", but I cannot say that. I know exactly why I was worried, and I want sixteen year old me to know our worry was understandable; I learned my first lesson-- if it is enough to hurt me, it is not a foolish thought. Sitting in my seat, these problems flooded my brain. I still was unaware that these instances I'd been experiencing for more than a year were panic attacks, but I was learning how to spot signs and triggers for these instances. Loud noises typically are not much of a bother to me, but during high anxiety moments, small repetitive sounds trigger my panic attacks. I remember my symptoms starting to build as I heard small whispers, pencils hitting the floor, cabinets clicking closed, and it got louder and louder. Then, I was in the hallway waiting to discuss what had just occurred with our school's social worker. I do not remember much of how I arrived there, but I remember just letting everything I had felt out. I learned that I had just had a panic attack. I was taught exercises I now use to prevent my attacks, and I was able to hear for the first time that it was going to get better. I learned my second lesson-- I should not look for a way around my struggles, rather a way through them. During my junior year, I was able to cope with where my anxiety stemmed from. My attacks stopped me from eating, sleeping, and completing routines that I originally felt no anxiety towards. It is quite contradictory to say that one of the main stressors for me was my music, as I am deeply in love with it and plan to pursue Music Education. Middle school was the time that my director paved the way for me to be a successful high school student. While I am extremely grateful, I realized my obsession with perfection and keeping people impressed by me stemmed from being under his wing. My tendency to constantly wonder when the people who have the most faith in me will become disappointed in me is still high. The worry I get when I am not at a certain expectancy level that I believe other people have for me is abundant. Hearing "Don't apologize." because I say sorry before even speaking in fear of annoying those I care about is a classic phrase I hear on a daily basis. As a senior graduating in June of 2024, I can say I want to break this thinking I have plagued myself with. I do not think I have gotten there yet, but I will. Adjusting to the new way I have to live has not been easy, however, I found healthy coping mechanisms. I was able to take my anxiety off the pedestal I had it on-- it was no longer the ruler of my mental health.

This scholarship would help me pursue my future goals because it would allow me to get the best education at my college of choice. I will be attending West Chester University as a music education major under the Wells School of Music. Once I have completed my education, I will be able to use what I have learned to fulfill my dream, which is to become a marching band director for a Title 1 school. Growing up in a Title 1 district myself, I saw how hard it is to be in an underfunded school and what students go through at home. School was the place they escaped. Many of us found an escape through the world of music. Countless times I've heard myself and my friends say that music has saved us. Oftentimes, underfunded performing arts students do not receive the same attention as privileged students. We never had the big and beautiful props for shows or the brand new equipment for concerts. It was tough to see other schools get recognized when we had been doing the same amount of work, but we just did not have the fanciness behind the work.  My directors showed me that music is not something you listen to, but something you feel. It can heal any soul. Some of my friends, who have gone through more than most do by the time they've reached fifty, have been holding on because of the music program. I have a strong desire to do the same and show fellow Title 1 students that they can beat the odds. We are not the ones "who won't be going anywhere." We are the ones who will fight to be taken seriously. Not only do I want to inspire underprivileged students, but I also want to inspire young female percussionists. I grew up with a passion that was dominated by men. The world of percussion is beautiful; however, women still fight to have a seat at the table. I broke these barriers by becoming the first female tenor quad player in my high school’s marching band history. I also achieved a place in high-status ensembles without a private teacher. The directors of my high school worked incredibly hard to help me, even in lieu of our difficulty getting administrative support for our performing arts program. I want to teach young girls that musical instruments do not have assigned genders. Financially, my struggle has been hidden. I am fully aware that being a teacher at a low-income school has its downsides with pay, and it is hard to find inspiration when many do not want to support your students. I see it every day as a student now. This will not stop me from changing this preconceived notion that you can only have big dreams if you start out big or that you cannot have strong femininity in an area where men underestimate you. It does not matter where you come from, but rather where you go. Most students grow up thinking they can do anything; my students will be right about that.

My July 4th was not filled with fireworks or barbecues, but instead it was filled with 9-1-1 calls, screaming, and laying outside in the bed of my mother's truck listening to a speaker play from my neighbors backyard just wondering "Why?". My grandfather passed July 4th, 2022. No one deserves to have their last memory of a person they love desperately lying on the bathroom floor. No one deserves to see a strong man lying in a hospital bed, unable to speak or breathe on their own. My grandfather was the most caring and selfless man this world has seen. When my father, his son, was fighting Hodgkins Lymphoma, he was with him every day. When my father had heart disease and emergency surgery, he never left the hospital, even with his own medical issues needing tending to. When my mother's anxiety left her in bed for days, he brought her food. Whenever I had somewhere to be, he drove me however long. There were not going to be anymore days of sitting in his chair next to him watching television. There were no more dying eggs for Easter. The lounges in the pool were forever gone. And I cannot even explain the feeling of possibly forgetting his voice that said all of his classic phrases. The stages of grief are the truest explanations of loss. Seeing him lay helpless was not the reality. He would be returning home after this nightmare: Denial. I vividly remember punching my wall and screaming to the sky: Anger. I told God that if He brought my grandfather back, I would leave behind any grudges I had against my father's brother for how he treated us: Bargaining. For the next few hours, days, and weeks, I stayed in my bed and just stared at the wall. When I called 9-1-1 for my grandfather, I had been eating lunch. I did not eat very much during the grieving: Depression. Then, I processed. I realized he needed to leave. He was losing his ability to have a normal life without hospital visits. He asked us to never let him hang on longer than he needed to. We had to let him go, and I had to understand he was never far from me. That sky I watched the night he passed away in the truck bed was the most beautiful sunset I'd ever seen: Acceptance. It is my senior year and knowing he will not see me graduate, or have my last band concert, or last dance recital is soul crushing. Although, as a musician and a dancer, music has been a constant in my life. One song in particular that helps me feel connected to my grandfather and that I want played on my graduation day is "Marjorie" by Taylor Swift. The whole song is dedicated to her grandmother, and there are so many lyrics I feel can relate to my grandfather and I's relationship. The bridge of "Marjorie" is particularly personal for me. "The autumn chill that wakes me up, you loved the amber skies so much." Long before eight hour days at school, I would sit on the porch in the early morning looking at the sky and blowing bubbles with my grandpa pointing at the clouds that made shapes. "Long limbs and frozen swims You'd always go past where our feet could touch." He taught me how to swim in his backyard and he never let me give up even when I was scared. "I should've asked you questions. I should've asked you how to be." The amount of guilt I felt when he left us. I could have spent more time sitting and talking with him. I could have listened more when he gave me advice. "Asked you to write it down for me. Should've kept every grocery store receipt 'cause every scrap of you would be taken from me." Seeing him lifeless in the hospital, all I begged God for was him to be able to let my grandfather talk to me one more time. As I sat in the chair I realized I should have cherished all the times I went grocery shopping with my grandparents, even when they'd argue over sale prices, because like the lyrics say, every scrap of him was taken from me. "Marjorie" not only reminds me of my grandfather, but it reminds me that music is what pulled me out of my depression. I have dreams of becoming a high school band director for students attending a low income school. Growing up in one myself, I saw firsthand what the beauty of music can do for children who have gone through more than most do before they are in their mid lives. "What died didn't stay dead. You're alive. You're alive in my head."

The queasiness, restlessness, blurry vision, closed throat, hyperventilating, crying, and feeling as if there were an elephant on my chest was going to have to become a part of my life. I told my freshman self this. I was not aware until my sophomore year that I was experiencing panic attacks. This became the known reality in the very back of my chemistry class. Sixteen year old me was anxious about many things this day: junior class office elections, marching band officer auditions, and the sadness of my best friend (and crush) getting a girlfriend. I wish I had the ability to say "Looking back, I have no idea why I was so worried!", but I cannot say that. I know exactly why I was worried, and I want sixteen year old me to know our worry was understandable; I learned my first lesson-- if it is enough to hurt me, it is not a foolish thought. Sitting in my seat, these problems flooded my brain. I still was unaware that these instances I'd been experiencing for more than a year were panic attacks, but I was learning how to spot signs and triggers for these instances. Loud noises typically are not much of a bother to me, but during high anxiety moments, small repetitive sounds trigger my panic attacks. I remember my symptoms starting to build as I heard small whispers, pencils hitting the floor, cabinets clicking closed, and it got louder and louder. Then, I was in the hallway waiting to discuss what had just occurred with our school's social worker. I do not remember much of how I arrived there, but I remember just letting everything I had felt out. I learned that I had just had a panic attack. I was taught exercises I now use to prevent my attacks, and I was able to hear for the first time that it was going to get better. I learned my second lesson-- I should not look for a way around my struggles, rather a way through them. During my junior year, I was able to cope with where my anxiety stemmed from. My attacks stopped me from eating, sleeping, and completing routines that I originally felt no anxiety towards. It is quite contradictory to say that one of the main stressors for me was my music, as I am deeply in love with it and plan to pursue Music Education. Middle school was the time that my director paved the way for me to be a successful high school student. While I am extremely grateful, I realized my obsession with perfection and keeping people impressed by me stemmed from being under his wing. My tendency to constantly wonder when the people who have the most faith in me will become disappointed in me is still high. The worry I get when I am not at a certain expectancy level that I believe other people have for me is abundant. Hearing "Don't apologize." because I say sorry before even speaking in fear of annoying those I care about is a classic phrase I hear on a daily basis. As a senior graduating in June of 2024, I can say I want to break this thinking I have plagued myself with. I do not think I have gotten there yet, but I will. Adjusting to the new way I have to live has not been easy, however, I found healthy coping mechanisms. I was able to take my anxiety off the pedestal I had it on-- it was no longer the ruler of my mental health.

The queasiness, restlessness, blurry vision, closed throat, hyperventilating, crying, and feeling as if there were an elephant on my chest was going to have to become a part of my life. I told my freshman self this. I was not aware until my sophomore year that I was experiencing panic attacks. This became the known reality in the very back of my chemistry class. Sixteen year old me was anxious about many things this day: junior class office elections, marching band officer auditions, and the sadness of my best friend (and crush) getting a girlfriend. I wish I had the ability to say "Looking back, I have no idea why I was so worried!", but I cannot say that. I know exactly why I was worried, and I want sixteen year old me to know our worry was understandable; I learned my first lesson-- if it is enough to hurt me, it is not a foolish thought. Sitting in my seat, these problems flooded my brain. I still was unaware that these instances I'd been experiencing for more than a year were panic attacks, but I was learning how to spot signs and triggers for these instances. Loud noises typically are not much of a bother to me, but during high anxiety moments, small repetitive sounds trigger my panic attacks. I remember my symptoms starting to build as I heard small whispers, pencils hitting the floor, cabinets clicking closed, and it got louder and louder. Then, I was in the hallway waiting to discuss what had just occurred with our school's social worker. I do not remember much of how I arrived there, but I remember just letting everything I had felt out. I learned that I had just had a panic attack. I was taught exercises I now use to prevent my attacks, and I was able to hear for the first time that it was going to get better. I learned my second lesson-- I should not look for a way around my struggles, rather a way through them. During my junior year, I was able to cope with where my anxiety stemmed from. My attacks stopped me from eating, sleeping, and completing routines that I originally felt no anxiety towards. It is quite contradictory to say that one of the main stressors for me was my music, as I am deeply in love with it and plan to pursue Music Education. Middle school was the time that my director paved the way for me to be a successful high school student. While I am extremely grateful, I realized my obsession with perfection and keeping people impressed by me stemmed from being under his wing. My tendency to constantly wonder when the people who have the most faith in me will become disappointed in me is still high. The worry I get when I am not at a certain expectancy level that I believe other people have for me is abundant. Hearing "Don't apologize." because I say sorry before even speaking in fear of annoying those I care about is a classic phrase I hear on a daily basis. As a senior graduating in June of 2024, I can say I want to break this thinking I have plagued myself with. I do not think I have gotten there yet, but I will. Adjusting to the new way I have to live has not been easy, however, I found healthy coping mechanisms. I was able to take my anxiety off the pedestal I had it on-- it was no longer the ruler of my mental health.

Growing up, I always knew I wanted a career in education. It originally started with wanting to pursue Special Education. I went through elementary school being in inclusion rooms. I was around children different than me, and it became a big part of my life: making life-long friendships, becoming educated on serious situations at an early age, and learning what it truly meant to be kind. Fifth grade rolled around and my now best friend told me he really wanted me to consider playing drums in our elementary band. I had been wanting to play an instrument for quite some time, so I decided to give it a shot. He is now one of the many people I credit for my major now, which is Music Education. However, I do not plan to throw away the other part of myself that has Special Education as a career path. Going to school in a Title 1 district, I was accustomed to the underestimation of the children that attended. We were the kids that "wouldn't be going anywhere". Music was often a way for us to escape these preconceived notions people had of us. I had the wonderful opportunity of seeing what music education in schools did for students who needed a light to follow. Music in my grade school years, especially high school, allowed me to make friendships that I will never forget. My fellow musicians have been some of the best people I've known. They've seen me at my worst and at my best. We fight and love like brothers and sisters. My directors were able to give us a wonderful experience; we learned that music was not just to hear, it was to feel. I plan to work in a Title 1 high school as a band director and studio music teacher. I want to encourage students the same way my teachers did. Special Education interest has also allowed me to learn how to work with diverse learners. I am quite passionate about making children who have language barriers, disabilities, or non-idealistic backgrounds a part of the beauty that is music. I believe growing up around these situations has allowed me to know that music offers endless opportunities, and what makes it even better is that everyone can be included. I am passionate about the small details of music and instrumentals because it symbolizes the small details that need to be paid attention to in a student by their teacher. My goal in my career is to show a student the joy of music in their most pivotal moments of finding out who they are: their teen years.

I have heard many a time from people that playing drums would ruin my femininity because that was "a boy instrument". I did not let that notion stop me at eleven, and I am not letting it stop me at eighteen. My freshman year of high school began on a screen; the little fragments of the year that we got to be in person for marching band events were spent on the tiniest bass drum we owned. My percussion instructor heard from my middle school director that I was learning how to play tenor quads. My instructor saw this as a way to fix the problem of our current quad player of three years being a future 2021 graduate. However, when my instructor told some of the older drumline members and staff, the laughs were abundant. I'll admit it was understandably so. I mean how was a 5'3, freshman girl going to be able to march and shred on a set of marching quads? I started as a tenor quad player officially in my sophomore year. I was the only tenor in our drumline at the time. I enjoyed every second of it, as I was proving that I could carry the weight, both physically and metaphorically, of being an underclassman on the upper battery. One moment in particular that made me realize that I was not playing this instrument for myself, but also for other young girls. During my first Christmas parade since the pandemic, and also my first parade on quads, I stared down the block of musicians and heard a young girl yell, "Mommy! Look at the girl in the middle!" My head turned immediately out of attention, and smiled at the crowd, hoping she could see. It was not always beautiful moments like that young girl, however. There were many stares I received, snarky comments about my personal life because of people's assumptions regarding my instrument of choice, and underestimation of my physical strength. I heard these comments up until my senior year. I am Drum Major as a senior and I switch back and forth from conducting and playing my instrument. I finally feel respected. I found out from my director and percussion instructor that I had in fact been the very first female tenor quad player at my high school. During my high school music career, I faced sexism and microaggressional misogyny, but I was encouraged by a number of people to be the best I could be, and make a seat for myself a table dominated by men: the world of percussion. My instrument does not ruin my femininity, rather strengthens it. I have such a love for music and the little nuances built into a piece or into a conducting pattern. I've enjoyed every minute of my high school music experience. It has taught me to not search for a way out of struggle, but instead to search for a way through the struggle.

Music is not to be heard. It is to be felt. I started my journey with music in 4th grade, originally being a violinist. Then, in 5th grade, I switched to percussion-- which changed my entire pathway in not only my career choices, but my personal well-being. My goal is to be a high school band director for a low-income school, leading a marching season into a concert season for young musicians. Over the course of eight years, I have been surrounded by a wonderful music family, and during this time I have been able to acknowledge how music influenced my life. Growing up in a Title 1 school district, I was all too familiar with the underestimation of students who came from tough backgrounds or didn't have the luxurious life of the districts surrounding us. We were deemed as the kids who "wouldn't be going anywhere". A way many of us escaped this statement was through music. High budget? Of course not. Band of 300 kids? Nope. Using our heads to make adjustments when we couldn't afford new equipment? Always. Performing pieces that represented the cultures that made our town diverse? Definitely. We learned life lessons that were able to be spelled with the letters A-B-C-D-E-F and G. Music in my grade school years, especially high school, allowed me to make friendships that I will never forget. My fellow musicians have been some of the best people I've known. They've seen me at my worst and at my best. We fight and love like brothers and sisters. The staff I've gotten to work with have helped me as a musician for one, but also as a person. I learned how to manage my time, gain confidence, and work with others. I want to work musically in a similar environment of what I grew up in. My directors encouraged us to beat the odds of a child in an underfunded school, and I want to do the same. I have seen firsthand what a simple holiday concert can do for a student who just wants a way to express themselves. It is one thing to listen to music, it is another to feel it. I am passionate about the small details of music and instrumentals because it symbolizes the small details that need to be payed attention to in a student by their teacher. My goal in my career is to show a student the joy of music in their most pivotal moments of finding out who they are: their teen years.