Paragraph (from Plato's Phaedrus): "The story is that in the region of Naucratis in Egypt there dwelt one of the old gods of the country, the god to whom the bird called Ibis is sacred, his own name being Theuth. He it was that invented number and calculation, geometry and astronomy, not to speak of draughts and dice, and above all writing. Now the king of the whole country at that time was Thamus, who dwelt in the great city of Upper Egypt which the Greeks call Egyptian Thebes, while Thamus they call Ammon. To him came Theuth, and revealed his arts, saying that they ought to be passed on to the Egyptians in general. Thamus asked what was the use of them all: and when Theuth explained, he condemned what he thought the bad points and praised what he thought the good. On each art, we are told, Thamus had plenty of views both for and against; it would take too long to give them in detail, but when it came to writing Theuth said ‘Here, O king, is a branch of learning that will make the people of Egypt wiser and improve their memories: my discovery provides a recipe for memory and wisdom’. But the king answered and said ‘O man full of arts, to one is it given to create the things of art, and to another to judge what measure of harm and of profit they have for those that shall employ them. And so it is that you, by reason of your tender regard for the writing that is your offspring, have declared the very opposite of its true effect. If men learn this, it will implant forgetfulness in their souls: they will cease to exercise memory because they rely on that which is written, calling things to remembrance no longer from within themselves, but by means of external marks; what you have discovered is a recipe not for memory, but for reminder. And it is no true wisdom that you offer your disciples, but only its semblance; for by telling them of many things without teaching them you will make them seem to know much, while for the most part they know nothing; and as men filled, not with wisdom, but with the conceit of wisdom, they will be a burden to their fellows.” The invention of writing, though debated about, ultimately aided society by becoming a great portion of education, and unlike inventions such as the Internet, improved memory. In Plato’s Phaedrus, Socrates tells Plato of the myth of the ancient Egyptian god Theuth. In the story, King Thamus critiques Theuth’s invention of writing. Theuth gives two main reasons for using writing: it will “make the people of Egypt wiser and improve their memories”. Theuth first tells the king that writing will improve wisdom. Using writing for education will help people learn to read and write for themselves. By writing about different topics, people will inherently become more knowledgeable. Additionally, written ideas can be more easily and more accurately passed to others compared to word of mouth. However, the king is skeptical that any real knowledge will come from writing. King Thamus argues that writing merely offers a “semblance” of wisdom. By replacing teaching with only written explanations, people will seem to understand concepts, but won’t fully grasp each aspect of an idea. He even claims that writers will become conceited, thinking they are more knowledgeable than others when in reality, they’ve received no additional education. (Of course, we can’t forget the irony of Plato writing all of this down, especially given that Phaedrus was written to inform readers of different philosophical ideas.) In today’s world, written text is often used for education. Textbooks, passages, pieces of literature, or even transcribed speeches are all used for students to analyze. Students today also learn writing themselves. In that aspect, it can be concluded that Theuth was right: writing can be used for educational purposes (to strengthen wisdom). Theuth also attempted to convince the king that writing would “provide a recipe for memory”. After all, physically writing things down often helps engrain certain ideas into memory. Today, students use different writing techniques to study new topics. However, King Thamus refutes the idea that writing will improve memory, stating that “[people] will cease to exercise memory because they rely on that which is written”. Instead of using memory to recall details or events, people will begin to turn to written reminders. Thamus warns that letting writing become too heavily relied on for memory will ultimately erase the need for remembering anything internally. In today’s world, this warning could easily be applied to overusing tools like the Internet instead. It could be argued that websites like Google, Yahoo, or Bing make remembering certain information useless. While relying on writing as memory may take time - finding the book, page, or other source of the information - search engines can remind people of any fact within a few seconds. As society advances, it becomes clearer that memory is dulled not by writing, but by the Internet. But whether it’s writing, the Internet, or another invention, one piece of wisdom from King Thamus regards inventors with advice. “To one is it given to create the things of art, and to another to judge what measure of harm and of profit they have for those that shall employ them.” In this sentence, Thamus is addressing Theuth and his claims about the benefits of his own invention. Thamus claims that the inventor can’t accurately perceive how their creation is going to benefit or harm society - rather, that is the job of those who are affected by the change. This serves as advice to inventors today; don’t let potential bias get caught in the true benefits or consequences of your work. In this case however, Theuth was fairly accurate in his prediction of what writing would achieve. It not only improves education, but also helps with memory.

My name is Charlotte Brown. As I begin college in 2025, I plan to double major in Musical Theater and Psychology. My goal is to pursue a career that combines my love of performing arts with my desire to help others who suffer from anxiety. Musical therapy is one option I am considering. Why am I pursuing this path? Let me tell you my story. When I was twelve, my hypersensitivity led me to be diagnosed with debilitating anxiety and panic disorder. I wouldn’t leave my room. Underneath my bed (yes, actually under my bed), I found my only safe place. Every other environment was suffocating. When I did go out, I would struggle to breathe as background music and typical conversation melted into excruciating static. My parents knew something had to change. They signed my two siblings and me up for a two-week-long half-day camp at our local community theater, where we would perform in our first musical - Seussical, Kids. I didn’t want to go. I hated the idea of performing. I feared all the noise – the applause, the music, the microphones. It would be too much. On the first day, I kept up my guard as other kids exchanged hugs and excited conversations. As the director began talking and the music started playing, I braced myself for the dreaded static I knew all too well. But that static never came. Instead, I heard melody. I heard harmony. I heard chords and an orchestra and a rhythm that got everyone dancing. Eventually, I started dancing too. I can’t explain what happened. All I know is after that day, music was no longer overwhelming. It was beautiful, resonant, healing. Since that first show, theater has been a safe space for me; it’s helped me recover from my anxiety and taught me to be unapologetically me. I’ve grown as an artist and have performed in nearly 30 shows, with roles including Cinderella in Into the Woods, Catherine in Pippin, Meg March in Little Women, and Johanna in Sweeney Todd. I’ve grown both as a performer and as a musician. My hypersensitivity has become a superpower. I’m able to distinguish harmonies and hear minute differences in chords. I served as the music director for Shrek, Anastasia, and The Little Mermaid. I had the opportunity to sing with Voctave and Epcot’s Voices of Liberty, two highly respected acapella groups. When I’m on stage, my scattered, anxious thoughts turn to soft hums of contentment, and the panic-inducing static I used to hear melts into beautiful music. Pursuing theater would mean pursuing the joy and beauty in my life; I’m proud to continue stepping down that path of healing. Adding a psychology major will allow me to share my story and my resources with other people. No one is alone in feeling afraid; theater helped me see that, and I’d love to teach others how to see it too. My top choice school is Florida Southern College. Florida Southern offers excellent theater and musical theater programs as well as the option to double major in musical theater and psychology. With my history of anxiety, I am the type of person who will thrive best in a small, tight-knit community. This award will help me achieve my goals at a school where I know I will thrive.

Some of my earliest memories were of fear. My pediatrician called my fear “hypersensitivity”. My senses were constantly on overdrive. I would recoil at specific smells, bright lights, or weird textures. But most of my hypersensitivity revolved around noise. I would cry every time my dad crumpled a piece of paper, or my mom turned on the TV. In elementary school, I was the kid who cried during fire drills. I was afraid of the unexpected. When I was twelve, my hypersensitivity led me to be diagnosed with debilitating anxiety and panic disorder. I wouldn’t leave my room. Underneath my bed (yes, actually under my bed), I found my only safe place. Every other environment was suffocating. When I did go out, I would struggle to breathe as background music and typical conversation melted into excruciating static. My parents knew something had to change. They signed my two siblings and me up for a two-week long half-day camp at our local community theater, where we would perform in our first musical - Suessical, Kids. I didn’t want to go. I hated the idea of performing. I feared all the noise – the applause, the music, the microphones. It would be too much. On the first day, I kept up my guard as other kids exchanged hugs and excited conversations. As the director began talking and the music started playing, I braced myself for the dreaded static I knew all too well. But that static never came. Instead, I heard melody. I heard harmony. I heard chords and an orchestra and a rhythm that got everyone dancing. Eventually, I started dancing too. I can’t explain what happened. All I know is after that day, music was no longer overwhelming. It was beautiful, resonant, healing. Since that first show, theater has been a safe space for me; it’s helped me recover from my anxiety and taught me to be unapologetically me. I’ve grown as an artist and have performed in nearly 30 shows, with roles including Cinderella in Into the Woods, Catherine in Pippin, Meg March in Little Women, and Johanna in Sweeney Todd. I’ve grown both as a performer and as a musician. My hypersensitivity has become a superpower. I’m able to distinguish harmonies and hear minute differences in chords. I served as the music director for Shrek, Anastasia, and The Little Mermaid. I had the opportunity to sing with Voctave and Epcot’s Voices of Liberty, two highly respected acapella groups. Most importantly, I’ve gained confidence. Theater has taught me to pursue mastery in other aspects of my life. On my mock trial team, I’ve won statewide performance awards and have worked with teammates to win competitions. In school, I work hard to earn good grades, and have passed every AP exam with flying colors. This whole time, I’ve been surrounded by supportive friends, family members, and directors who have continued to push me to excel in my craft. I may always struggle with lingering anxiety. But when I’m on stage, my scattered, anxious thoughts turn to soft hums of contentment, and the panic-inducing static I used to hear melts into beautiful music. I’m eternally grateful for my parents, who started me down the path of recovery through performance.