⸻ My name is Cheyann Lynch Tanksley, and I believe in the healing power of music. Music saved me before I even realized I needed saving. I was just a teenager when grief became a part of my everyday life. I lost my older brother right before high school started. It changed the way I saw the world. It felt like someone had turned the volume down on life—everything was muffled. I kept moving, kept going to school, kept pretending, but the truth is, I didn’t feel like myself anymore. I didn’t know how to express what I was feeling. That’s when music stepped in. Singing wasn’t just something I was good at—it became my therapy. It gave me a voice when I didn’t know how to use my own. I started writing songs in my notebook, humming melodies in my room, and turning my emotions into something I could hold. Through the darkest parts of my journey, music became my light. That’s when I realized: if music could help me heal, maybe I could use it to help others too. That’s what inspired me to pursue a degree in Music Education and Psychology at Virginia State University. I want to build a career where I don’t just teach kids how to sing—I teach them how to believe in themselves. I want to create spaces where young people feel seen, supported, and safe to express their emotions. Too many students go through trauma in silence. I want to be the kind of teacher and leader who breaks that silence through music, compassion, and real conversations. To bring that vision to life, I created a program called Soundwave: Beyond the Beat. It’s designed to use music as a tool for emotional healing, confidence-building, and self-expression. I’ve already started laying the foundation for it through small performances, school workshops, and group activities where students can talk about things like anxiety, grief, self-worth, and creativity in a fun, supportive environment. Soundwave will include live performances, songwriting sessions, mental health check-ins, and group games designed to help students connect through music and storytelling. The impact I want to make is bigger than just one classroom or one concert. I want to travel to schools, youth centers, and communities that don’t usually have access to arts programs and give kids something to believe in. I want students to see music not just as entertainment, but as a form of expression, healing, and power. Eventually, I plan to open my own creative arts and wellness center—a place where kids can walk in and leave their pain at the door, pick up a microphone, and leave feeling seen and inspired. A huge part of my mission is helping students reconnect with their imagination and self-worth. That’s why I’ve also started writing songs specifically for young people—songs that aren’t just catchy, but meaningful and encouraging. Here’s an original example of a song I plan to perform during Soundwave school visits to help kids embrace who they are and remember their strength: ⸻ 🎵 “Shine Anyway” (by Cheyann Tanksley) Uplifting children’s song for emotional confidence and inspiration Verse 1 Sometimes the sky is cloudy, and the light feels far away You try to smile through silence, but your heart forgets to play You hear the world get louder, telling you to dim your light But I’m here to say you’re special, and you’ve got the right to shine Chorus Shine anyway, even when it’s hard You’re a work of art, with a beating heart Shine anyway, even when you’re blue The world needs magic—and it’s coming from you Verse 2 You don’t have to be perfect, you don’t need to wear a mask Your dreams were made for flying, even if you come in last Your story has power, your voice can lead the way So sing your song out loud, don’t let fear get in the way Chorus Shine anyway, even when it’s tough You are more than enough, even when it’s rough Shine anyway, even when you cry Storms don’t last forever—soon you’ll touch the sky Bridge You’re brighter than you know And it’s okay to grow You’re learning as you go Let your true light show Final Chorus Shine anyway, let your colors glow You’re a rainbow soul, let the whole world know Shine anyway, let your love lead the way You’re the reason someone else believes in brighter days 🎵 ⸻ That’s the kind of impact I want to have—not just through words, but through melody, heart, and message. Music can lift, teach, and connect in ways nothing else can. I plan to keep using my voice and creativity to build a future where kids learn to love themselves and feel proud of who they are. This is more than a career to me—it’s my calling.

I never thought a song could save and give me a purpose until it did. It was late at night. I was in my room, trying to hold myself together after another emotional breakdown. I had just lost my brother before starting high school, and everything felt heavy. School didn’t feel important anymore. People didn’t notice I was hurting, and even if they did, I didn’t know how to talk about it. Then I put my headphones in, and a voice—just one song—made me feel like I wasn’t invisible. That moment changed my life. From that day forward, I started to understand that music wasn’t just a passion for me—it was a lifeline. It was the only thing that helped me process my grief, anxiety, depression, and isolation. It helped me find my voice again. And slowly, I realized that maybe I could use that same gift to help others feel seen and safe too. That’s why I’m pursuing a college degree in Music Education and Psychology. My dream is to create spaces where music and mental health come together. I want to become a music teacher and later a certified music therapist, but not just any kind. I want to be the type of educator who doesn’t just teach notes and rhythms, but helps students navigate life, process emotions, and believe in themselves. I want to build classrooms that double as healing spaces. I want to give students something I never had—an adult who truly understands how much mental and emotional weight a young person can carry. Losing my brother was the first crack in the surface of who I used to be. It changed how I viewed the world, how I trusted people, and how I carried myself. Then my aunt passed. Then my grandfather. That’s when I stopped pretending to be okay. That’s also when I started writing music more seriously. My journal became a notebook full of lyrics, and my sadness turned into songs. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was already doing the work of a music therapist—I just didn’t have the title yet. As I continued through school, I began to pay more attention to how many other students were silently struggling, just like I had. That realization led me to create a project called Soundwave: Beyond the Beat. It’s an initiative designed to help students use music as a tool for emotional expression and healing. Through performances, group conversations, games, and confidence-building sessions, I’ve already begun putting my mission into action. And that’s just the beginning. After I earn my degree from Virginia State University, I plan to take Soundwave to a new level. I want to establish creative wellness centers in schools and underserved communities where students can access music, therapy, mentorship, and self-development all in one place. These centers would focus on music as a form of communication and healing for kids who don’t know how to process things like grief, trauma, anxiety, or identity confusion. I want to create environments where young people aren’t punished for having emotions but are guided through them with compassion and support. Eventually, I also want to publish a book about my journey—how I turned pain into purpose—and speak at schools, youth events, and community spaces across the country. My goal is not just to teach, but to inspire and lead. I want to become the kind of role model I wish I had when I was younger. But none of this will be possible without finishing my education. That’s why receiving this scholarship means more to me than words can express. I come from a hardworking, low-income family that has always supported my dreams, even when money was tight. We’ve faced a lot of loss and struggle, but we’ve always kept going. This scholarship would help lift a financial burden that’s constantly on my mind and allow me to focus fully on my studies, hands-on training, and community work. Right now, every semester is a stretch. I work hard, apply for aid, and still find myself wondering if I’ll be able to afford the next step. But I refuse to let that stop me. With your help, I can stay enrolled full-time, complete internships, join workshops, and gain the professional tools I need to build something meaningful. This support would help me continue developing Soundwave, buy music equipment, access therapy training, and take the courses that will prepare me to be the kind of educator who changes lives. My future plans are clear. I want to graduate with my bachelor’s degree in Music Education and Psychology. After that, I’ll become a licensed educator, work in a public school while launching my nonprofit, and pursue a master’s degree in music therapy or educational leadership. I want to train other teachers and community leaders on how to integrate music and mental health in their work with youth. I want to work with school districts to change the way emotional struggles are handled in the classroom. I want to bring healing into the places that need it most. This isn’t just a dream—it’s a responsibility I carry. I know what it feels like to hurt in silence. I know what it feels like to almost give up. And I also know the power of one voice, one song, one safe person to make all the difference. I’m not just going to college for me. I’m going for every student who feels like they don’t belong. I’m going for my brother, whose memory still fuels my purpose. I’m going for the next generation, who deserves to know that they’re not alone and that their voice has value. With this scholarship, I won’t just graduate—I’ll make sure that my degree becomes a key to unlock healing, inspiration, and real change in the world around me.I’ve learned that sometimes, the most powerful change starts with one person who’s willing to turn pain into purpose. I am that person. I don’t just want to succeed for myself—I want to open doors for others, especially those who feel unseen, unheard, or misunderstood. This scholarship would not just support my education; it would invest in every student I will one day teach, mentor, and inspire. I’m ready to take everything I’ve been through and use it to light the way forward—for myself and for the next generation. Thank you for believing in stories like mine, and for giving students like me the chance to turn our dreams into something real.

Billie Eilish doesn’t just make music—she makes emotion sound like poetry. Her artistry speaks to parts of me I didn’t know how to express. Out of all her songs, these three have stayed with me the most: “everything i wanted,” “idontwannabeyouanymore,” and “The 30th.” Each one hits differently, but all of them have helped me heal, reflect, and feel less alone. “everything i wanted” was the first Billie song that truly shook me. I was going through a dark time mentally—grappling with grief, insecurity, and the pressure to seem “okay” all the time. The way Billie sings, “I had a dream / I got everything I wanted / Not what you’d think,” reminded me that success or attention doesn’t always fix what’s going on inside. That line about her brother telling her, “As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you”—it hit hard. It reminded me of the people in my life who protect me, who see me even when I don’t see myself. That song made me feel like my pain was valid, even when I couldn’t explain it out loud. “idontwannabeyouanymore” is one of the rawest songs I’ve ever heard. The lyrics felt like they were taken straight from my journal. “If teardrops could be bottled” made me picture all the moments I cried behind closed doors, trying to hold myself together for everyone else. It speaks directly to body image, insecurity, and the inner critic that so many of us carry but hide. Listening to it feels like someone finally saying the words I’ve never had the courage to admit. And then there’s “The 30th.” This song… it stopped me in my tracks. It’s about trauma and how life can change in a blink. The way she paints the picture of getting that terrifying call, the shock, the pain—it gave me chills. Having lost people I loved unexpectedly, I felt every word. It reminded me how fragile life is and how deeply we love the people we’re scared to lose. Billie didn’t just write a song—she captured the fear and love that come with surviving something heartbreaking. Billie Eilish resonates with me because she dares to be honest in a world that often tells us to fake a smile. Her music gave my emotions a voice. These three songs, in particular, helped me process my feelings and gave me the strength to stop hiding what hurts. In a quiet way, Billie’s music gave me permission to be real.

She made me feel like I wasn’t alone That’s the first reason I became a fan of Sabrina Carpenter. I wasn’t just drawn to her voice—I was drawn to her honesty. Her music, her acting, and even her interviews reflected something real. In a world that often asks young women to shrink themselves, Sabrina stood tall in her own identity. She didn’t apologize for being bold, emotional, clever, or even misunderstood. That confidence? It inspired me to start embracing who I am too. What makes Sabrina different from other artists is how much she evolves without losing herself. From her Disney days on Girl Meets World to her recent albums like emails i can’t send and Short n’ Sweet, she’s shown that growth doesn’t mean forgetting where you came from—it means owning your journey. As a young woman figuring out my own voice, I look up to that. She’s shown me that I can be strong and soft, that I can be witty and wounded, and that I can turn my struggles into something powerful. One song that hit me especially hard was “because i liked a boy.” Not just because of the controversy she faced, but because she responded with vulnerability and art instead of hate. That taught me so much about grace under pressure. Instead of clapping back online, she told her story through music—and that’s the kind of strength I admire. It reminded me that I don’t have to explain myself to everyone, and that sometimes the best revenge is just living your truth out loud. Sabrina’s career has also influenced my own path. I’m a music major and a songwriter, and I dream of using music the way she does—to help people feel seen. Watching her blend pop with storytelling, humor with heartbreak, has pushed me to be more fearless in my own writing. I don’t want to sound like everyone else—I want to sound like me. Sabrina made that feel possible. More than just a pop star, she’s become a symbol of self-expression, resilience, and evolution. And being her fan hasn’t just brought me joy—it’s brought me clarity about who I want to be.

“I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror.” That’s the sentence I remember whispering to my best friend after locking myself in the school bathroom during freshman year. It wasn’t just the exhaustion or the puffy eyes—it was the emptiness. Losing my older brother right before high school changed everything. Grief didn’t just break my heart; it blurred my identity. I was no longer the loud, confident girl who sang her way through the halls. I became quiet, isolated, and disconnected. That was my first real experience with depression, and it introduced me to the raw reality of mental health struggles. As I navigated my own healing journey, my beliefs about mental health began to shift. I realized that healing isn’t linear, and it certainly isn’t one-size-fits-all. I stopped believing that silence made me strong and started believing that vulnerability is powerful. I learned to advocate for therapy, to journal, and most importantly, to speak up—for myself and for others. This personal transformation has made me deeply empathetic toward those silently battling their own minds. It’s not just about surviving; it’s about learning how to live again with scars that aren’t always visible. These beliefs deeply affect the way I build relationships. I don’t take anyone’s “I’m fine” at face value anymore. I ask twice. I check in when someone goes quiet. Because I remember how badly I wished someone had noticed my silence. My mental health experiences have made me a better listener, a more patient friend, and someone who understands that being “strong” looks different for everyone. I’ve learned to surround myself with people who make space for my healing, and in return, I try to be that space for others. This path has also shaped my career aspirations in a powerful way. I am majoring in Music Education and Psychology, with the dream of creating environments where students can heal and express themselves through music. I want to redefine what a classroom looks like—turning it from just a place of learning into a sanctuary for self-expression and emotional growth. I’m building something that I wish had existed for me when I was struggling. That vision became the foundation for a project I created called Soundwave: Beyond the Beat, which helps students use music to cope with emotions like anxiety, grief, and insecurity. I no longer see mental health as something separate from my life. It’s in how I lead, how I teach, and how I love. It’s in every conversation where I remind someone that they’re not alone. It’s in the lyrics I write when I can’t find the words out loud. And most of all, it’s in the future I’m building—where no student has to go through what I went through feeling invisible. In the end, my mental health journey didn’t break me—it built me. Not into someone perfect, but into someone aware, compassionate, and determined to change the world through education and music. If I can help just one student feel seen, heard, and healed, then everything I’ve been through will have been worth it.

I remember being seventeen, standing in the bathroom mirror, practicing affirmations through tears. I had just finished a performance where I smiled on stage but cried as soon as I walked off. The applause felt good—but the emptiness afterward reminded me that I still hadn’t healed from everything I was holding inside. That night, I made a promise to myself: One day, this voice is going to heal more than just me! That moment became the spark that lit the fire for the life I’m chasing now—my dream life! In the life of my dreams, I’m not just an artist—I’m an educator, a healer, a voice for students who feel like nobody sees them. I’ve earned my degree in Music Education and Psychology, and I’ve created spaces where students can be fully themselves! I run a creative center where young people walk in carrying whatever they’re feeling—pain, joy, confusion, whatever—and they turn it into something powerful. They sing, write, paint, cry, and create. It’s a space where no one has to hold it in or feel like they don’t belong. I also see myself creating my own animated TV series—something that blends music, storytelling, and real emotional growth. The show follows characters who each represent things we all go through—like anxiety, grief, or not knowing where you fit in. They use music, friendship, and real-life moments to figure it out. I want the show to feel like a hug for people who need one! And I want it to reach kids, teens, and families who may not have the words for how they feel but can see themselves in the story. In this dream life, I travel to schools and youth events to share Soundwave: Beyond the Beat, the project I started to help students use music to build confidence and let go of fear. I lead workshops where we play music, talk about stage fright, mental health, creativity—everything! I see students start to believe in themselves, and every time, it reminds me why I started. I want to keep building that. I want to reach more cities, more classrooms, more hearts! But the dream isn’t just about performing or having a show. It’s about peace. It’s about waking up and knowing that I’m walking in my purpose! It’s about being proud of the person I’ve become someone who took pain and turned it into purpose. I don’t need fame or millions. I just want to know I made a difference. I want my art, my voice, and my story to mean something. This dream life isn’t far away. Every day, I’m working toward it through school, through my music, through the way I show up for others. A scholarship like this would help take some weight off my shoulders so I can stay focused on becoming the version of myself I know I was born to be.

To me, collaboration is the heartbeat of music and education. It’s not just about blending voices or sharing tasks—it’s about connecting with others through vulnerability, trust, and purpose. In music, especially in choir and theatre, no one succeeds alone. Everyone brings their piece, their voice, their story, and together, we create something bigger than any one person could make on their own. That process—of building something beautiful from a mix of personalities, experiences, and emotions—is what keeps me inspired and grounded in my field. Collaboration, for me, is deeply emotional. It’s what helped me process grief, overcome anxiety, and grow as both an artist and a person. Some of the most meaningful moments I’ve experienced didn’t happen on stage—but in the rehearsals, the small pep talks, the shared glances during warmups, and the group reflections after performances. Those are the spaces where trust is built, healing happens, and real relationships form. That’s where I’ve found my people. One of the most impactful collaborative experiences I had was being part of my high school musical theatre program during a very difficult time in my life. I was dealing with personal loss, including the death of my brother, my grandfather, and my aunt. But being in that space, surrounded by others who were working toward a shared goal, gave me a sense of belonging when I felt like I was falling apart. We weren’t just castmates—we were family. We supported each other, on and off the stage, and I truly believe those relationships helped save me. Another experience that shaped me was founding my project, Soundwave: Beyond the Beat. I started it as a way to connect with students who, like me, use music to process their emotions. What started as a solo idea quickly grew into a collaborative effort, with others joining in to help organize workshops, plan performances, and lead discussions. It reminded me how powerful collaboration can be when everyone is passionate about the same mission. I realized that even when I have a vision, it takes the energy, insight, and support of others to bring it to life. As I enter Virginia State University to study Music Education and Psychology, collaboration will continue to be central to my work. I want to create spaces where students don’t just learn music, but learn how to listen to one another, support one another, and grow together. My dream is to build something that lives beyond the classroom—something rooted in connection, expression, and healing. Collaboration, to me, is more than a group project or ensemble piece. It’s a sacred exchange. It’s the reason I love what I do, and it’s the reason I’ll keep doing it. Just like Pam Branchini, I believe the relationships formed in the process are just as meaningful—if not more—than the final performance itself.

Receiving this scholarship would be more than just financial support—it would be a key that unlocks the future I’ve worked so hard to reach. As an out-of-state student attending Virginia State University to study Music Education and Psychology, I’m carrying big dreams, a full heart, and real financial pressure. This scholarship would not only help me stay in school, but allow me to fully commit to my purpose: using the arts to heal, uplift, and empower young people who feel like they don’t belong. My long-term goal is to become a music educator, mental health advocate, and creative leader who creates safe spaces for students—especially those facing emotional challenges like grief, anxiety, or depression. I know firsthand what it’s like to sit in a classroom and feel invisible. I’ve lost close family members, struggled with depression, and dealt with the emotional weight of trauma, all while trying to keep up with school and plan for my future. It hasn’t been easy—but music helped me survive. Now I want to use it to help others do more than survive. I want to help them thrive. In high school, I started a personal project called Soundwave: Beyond the Beat, which focuses on using music and creative expression to support mental health. I’ve seen how one song, one conversation, or one performance can shift someone’s entire perspective. That’s why I chose to study both music and psychology—because I believe education and healing should go hand-in-hand. With this scholarship, I’ll have more room to grow Soundwave into something even bigger while pursuing my degree without the constant stress of how I’ll afford textbooks, meals, or living expenses. Financially, my family does what they can, but being an out-of-state student adds nearly $25,000 more per year to my education costs. Even with grants, loans, and part-time work, I still face a major funding gap that could hold me back from staying enrolled or fully participating in all the opportunities VSU offers. I don’t want to have to choose between working multiple jobs and investing in my craft. I want to be able to focus on learning, collaborating, and becoming the educator I know I can be. Receiving this scholarship would give me the breathing room I need to keep showing up as my best self—in class, on stage, and in my community. It would mean someone believes in the work I’m doing and the vision I have for the future. I’m not just going to college for me—I’m going for every student I hope to serve one day. I want to make the classroom a place of confidence, creativity, and care. This scholarship wouldn’t just help me reach my goals—it would help me lift others as I rise.

My “why” has always been rooted in the power of emotion, expression, and connection. I create because I know what it feels like to be voiceless, overlooked, and misunderstood. The arts gave me space to exist fully, even in the middle of grief, anxiety, and silence. I didn’t choose this path for attention or applause—I chose it because it saved me. And now, I want to build something that gives others the same sense of belonging and purpose I found through creative expression. What keeps me going is the belief that stories heal. Whether it’s through music, animation, or theatre, I’ve seen how art can bring people back to themselves. As a student of both music and psychology, I’ve spent time exploring how creative expression can unlock emotion, bridge communication, and even improve mental health. That’s why I’m not just focused on performing—I’m focused on building an entire world. One that speaks to young people who feel like no one understands them. In the future, I want to launch an animated TV series based on characters I’ve been sketching and writing about for years—characters that represent real emotions and challenges, like grief, trauma, hope, and identity. The show wouldn’t just be entertainment; it would be a safe space in cartoon form, filled with musical numbers, raw dialogue, and moments of truth that help people feel seen. I want to blend music, storytelling, psychology, and visual art into something that helps people feel again in a world where we’re told to always keep it moving. With the rise of AI and digital tools, there’s no limit to what artists can create—but I believe the human spirit still matters most. Technology can enhance our process, but it can’t replace our truth. I’ll use AI to help animate, compose, or brainstorm—but my stories will always come from lived experience. From a place no machine can replicate. To me, creation isn’t just about product—it’s about impact. I want to launch a comic book that builds off my TV show’s universe, start a visual art campaign that promotes mental health in schools, and eventually build an online platform where students can collaborate across music, visual arts, and storytelling. It won’t just be a brand—it’ll be a movement built on healing, collaboration, and creativity. Something raw, real, and revolutionary. As a student of the arts, my responsibility isn’t just to create—but to remind people that they’re not alone. My “why” is deeply personal, but it’s also universal. Everyone deserves to see themselves in the art they consume. I’m going to make sure they do.

One of the biggest obstacles I’ve faced in my journey toward higher education has been learning how to carry grief while still moving forward. I lost my brother just before I started high school. At an age where most students are learning who they are, I was trying to figure out how to exist without someone I loved deeply. That loss created a silence in me—one that stayed even when I smiled or sang. And it didn’t stop there. In the years that followed, I lost both my grandfather and my aunt. Grief became something I learned to live with, and at times, it made school feel unimportant, the future feel blurry, and life feel heavy. There were moments when I didn’t believe I would make it to college. Not because I wasn’t capable, but because I felt emotionally stuck. Depression and anxiety crept in, and I struggled to find balance between surviving and succeeding. It wasn’t just about getting good grades—it was about finding the strength to get out of bed, show up, and stay committed when everything inside me felt disconnected. What helped me through all of this was the support I received from people who saw me beyond what I was going through. My high school choir director became one of those people. She didn’t just teach music—she created a safe space where I could breathe, express myself, and feel seen. She noticed when I was off, when I needed encouragement, and when I needed a moment to just be. She reminded me that my voice still mattered, even when I didn’t feel heard in other areas of my life. Music also became a personal outlet—a way to cope, to reflect, and to slowly heal. Through choir and theatre, I found my place again. I found a way to turn my pain into something purposeful. That transformation is what led me to pursue Music Education and Psychology at Virginia State University. I want to do for others what my choir director did for me. I want to use the arts to help students find healing, confidence, and a sense of belonging. To push this vision even further, I created a student-led initiative called Soundwave: Beyond the Beat—a program that uses music to help students work through emotional struggles, stage fright, and self-doubt. I plan to grow this work at VSU and beyond, creating safe spaces where young people can use creativity as a tool for self-discovery and growth. The obstacles I’ve faced weren’t just academic—they were emotional, internal, and deeply personal. But with support, purpose, and resilience, I’ve turned those struggles into fuel. I’m proud of how far I’ve come, and I know I wouldn’t be here without the people who reminded me that I was capable of more than just surviving—I was capable of leading, creating, and healing through my art.

I was twelve years old when I sang at my brother’s funeral. I stood there with shaky hands, trying to hold myself together in front of people who were just as broken as I was. That was the moment I realized music wasn’t just something I enjoyed it was something that helped me survive. The arts became my way of breathing through pain I didn’t know how to explain. Growing up, I faced more than most kids my age. I’ve lost close family members, battled depression, and dealt with the kind of silence that only grief can bring. But music always made room for my voice, even when I didn’t know what to say. Being in choir and musical theatre didn’t just teach me how to perform it gave me a reason to keep going. It reminded me that expression can be powerful, even in the darkest seasons. The person who impacted me the most was my high school choir director. She saw me before I fully saw myself. She didn’t just push me to hit the right notes, she pushed me to show up, to stay grounded, and to believe that my voice mattered. Whenever I wanted to quit, she reminded me that music is bigger than the moment—it’s something that can change lives, starting with my own. Her belief in me helped shape who I am today. Because of that guidance and the healing I found through music, I’ve made it my mission to do the same for others. I’m attending Virginia State University to study Music Education and Psychology, with the goal of becoming a music educator and advocate for student mental health. I want to create spaces where students feel safe, seen, and supported—especially those who, like me, have used the arts to make sense of their world. To take that vision even further, I founded Soundwave: Beyond the Beat—a project focused on helping students use music as a tool for healing and self-expression. I’ve already started organizing workshops that combine music, conversation, and confidence-building activities. My dream is to grow this into something that can reach schools and communities that don’t always have access to arts programs or mental health support. Arts education didn’t just give me a skill—it gave me purpose. It gave me confidence. It gave me back my voice when I felt like I didn’t have one. And now, I want to give that same gift to others. With this scholarship, I can continue building something meaningful not just for myself, but for every student who needs a reminder that their story matters too.

My journey hasn’t been easy, but every challenge I’ve faced has shaped me into the person I am today—someone who refuses to give up, someone who believes in the power of music to heal, and someone who is determined to use their experiences to help others find their own strength. Before my freshman year of high school, I lost my brother. It was the kind of loss that doesn’t just hurt—it shifts everything you thought you knew about the world. One day, life feels familiar, and the next, it’s as if someone has pulled the ground out from under you. The grief was overwhelming, and there were moments when I didn’t know how to move forward. It wasn’t just sadness; it was confusion, anger, loneliness—all wrapped up in something I couldn’t quite put into words. At the same time, I was grappling with the absence of my father. While he was physically distant, the emotional distance was what weighed on me the most. I had to learn early on what it meant to stand on my own two feet, to navigate life’s struggles without always having someone to lean on. My mother has been my rock, always doing her best to support me, but even with her love, there were moments I felt like I had to be strong when I wasn’t sure I could be. Through all of this, music was the one thing that never left my side. When I couldn’t find the right words to express my pain, music spoke for me. It became my safe space, my escape, and my voice when I felt unheard. Whether I was singing in choir, performing in musicals, or just lying in bed with my headphones on, music gave me permission to feel everything I was holding inside. It wasn’t just a passion—it was survival. That deep connection to music is what led me to co-found Soundwave: Beyond the Beat, a project dedicated to helping students use music as a form of emotional expression and healing. I wanted to create something that I had needed during my hardest moments—a space where people could turn to music not just for entertainment, but for comfort, understanding, and self-discovery. As I worked with others, guiding them in using music to process their emotions, I realized something profound: this wasn’t just something I loved. It was something I needed to dedicate my life to. Pursuing higher education isn’t just about earning a degree for me. It’s about gaining the tools to turn my passion into a lifelong mission. I want to become a music therapist so I can help others—especially those who are struggling with grief, trauma, and mental health challenges—find healing through music, just as I did. I’ve seen firsthand what music can do. I’ve felt its power in my darkest moments. And now, I want to share that with others. Financial support would mean more than just the opportunity to go to school. It would be an investment in a future where I can take everything I’ve learned—every hardship, every lesson, every note of music that carried me through my pain—and use it to help others. I know what it’s like to feel lost, to feel like no one understands. And I also know what it’s like to find something that makes you feel whole again. I want to be that person for someone else. I want to remind them that they’re not alone. That healing is possible. That music is more than just sound—it’s connection, it’s expression, it’s hope. This is just the beginning of my journey, and I am ready to take the next step. With the right education, I know I can transform my experiences into something meaningful, something that truly makes a difference. I want to work in hospitals, schools, and community centers, bringing music therapy to those who need it most. I want to create programs that integrate music into mental health care, breaking the stigma and showing the world that healing isn’t just found in words—it’s found in melody, rhythm, and harmony. Life has taught me that pain and loss can shape us, but they don’t have to define us. Instead, they can fuel our purpose. My purpose is clear: to use music as a bridge between pain and healing, to help others find their voices, and to make sure that no one has to face their struggles in silence. For me, this is not just a dream. It’s a calling. And I am ready to answer it.

Jack Terry’s story is one of resilience, survival, and the power of using one’s experiences to uplift others. As a Holocaust survivor, he endured unimaginable loss and suffering, yet he chose not to let his past define him in a way that kept him stagnant. Instead, he used it as a driving force to educate, inspire, and help others. His story reminds me that adversity does not have to break us—it can shape us into stronger, more compassionate individuals who create change in the world. Like Terry, I have faced my own challenges that forced me to grow up quickly and find strength within myself. Before my freshman year of high school, I lost my brother, a devastating experience that altered the course of my life. Losing him at such a young age forced me to grapple with grief in ways I never expected. On top of that, my father was not actively present in my life, leaving me to navigate many of life’s hardships with only my mother’s support. Through these experiences, I learned the value of resilience, independence, and perseverance. I realized that even in the face of loss and hardship, I had the power to keep moving forward. Music became my way of processing these emotions. It was the one place where I felt safe to express everything I couldn’t put into words. Through singing, playing instruments, and songwriting, I found healing. This journey led me to co-found Soundwave: Beyond the Beat, a project designed to help students use music as a form of emotional expression and healing. In doing so, I discovered the power of using my struggles to help others—just as Jack Terry did in his own way. My experiences have shaped my desire to give back to society through music therapy. I want to take what I’ve learned—about resilience, healing, and the importance of creative expression—and use it to help others, especially those who are struggling with grief, trauma, or emotional challenges. Music has saved me in many ways, and I want to create spaces where others can find that same comfort and healing. Jack Terry’s story teaches us that our pain doesn’t have to be the end of our story—it can be the beginning of something meaningful. I hope to follow in his footsteps by using my own journey to inspire and help others. Through my studies in music and psychology, I will gain the knowledge and skills to support those who need a voice, a safe space, and a way to heal. Ultimately, I want to ensure that no one feels alone in their struggles, just as music has always reminded me that I am not alone in mine.

Education is more than just acquiring knowledge—it’s about growth, transformation, and the ability to make a difference. Furthering my education is important to me because it will give me the tools to turn my passion into a career that helps others. Music has always been my refuge, my form of self-expression, and my way of making sense of the world. By studying music and psychology, I can learn how to use what has healed me to help others heal as well. Music has been my constant companion through every challenge I’ve faced. It has helped me navigate grief, process emotions I couldn’t put into words, and find purpose in moments when I felt lost. Before my freshman year of high school, I lost my brother—a loss that changed everything. I had to learn how to carry my grief while moving forward. During that time, music was my outlet. Whether singing, playing an instrument, or simply listening, it became the one place where I felt understood, even when I couldn’t articulate my pain. Growing up, I also had to cope with an absent father. While my mother provided unwavering support, I often felt the weight of having to be strong for myself. Music gave me the space to be vulnerable, to express what I couldn’t always say out loud. It became my way of reclaiming my voice when I felt unheard. Over time, I realized that music wasn’t just something that helped me—it was something I could use to help others, too. That realization led me to co-found Soundwave: Beyond the Beat, a project dedicated to helping students use music as a tool for emotional expression and healing. Through this, I saw how powerful creative outlets can be in helping people navigate their emotions. Crime has also shaped my environment and, at times, affected my studies. Living in a city where violence is present, I have seen firsthand how trauma can impact young people, making it harder to focus on school and personal goals. There were times when the weight of loss and uncertainty made it difficult to stay motivated. However, music has always been a guiding force, reminding me why I keep pushing forward. Instead of letting adversity define me, I used it as fuel to stay committed to my education and my dream of becoming a music therapist. Art and music are more than just creative expressions they are lifelines. They provide an escape, a way to cope, and, most importantly, a means of connection. They remind us that we are not alone in our experiences. My journey has taught me that healing is not a solitary process it happens through expression, through community, and through finding meaning in the things that bring us joy. That is why furthering my education is so important to me. It will allow me to take what I’ve learned through my own experiences and turn it into something that can help others. I want to create spaces where people feel safe to express themselves, where music can be a bridge to healing, and where those who are struggling can find hope. My education will give me the knowledge, skills, and platform to do that. No matter where life takes me, I know one thing for sure music has saved me, and I want to use it to save others.

Music has been a defining part of my life for as long as I can remember. I started singing in middle school as part of a choir that performed during mass services, which introduced me to the emotional and communal power of music. I later attended a performing arts camp for two years, where I participated in musicals like In the Heights and Beauty and the Beast, deepening my love for performance and storytelling through music. In high school, I majored in choir and musical theater at Franklin Learning Center, further refining my vocal skills and stage presence. Currently, I perform regularly with my school’s band, Universal Language, where I’ve gained experience collaborating with other musicians and connecting with audiences. I’ve also recently started learning piano and guitar to expand my musical abilities and deepen my understanding of composition and accompaniment. As I entered my senior year, I decided to continue my work with Doing Good, this time launching a new initiative called Soundwave: Beyond the Beat. The idea behind this project was simple but powerful: to create a space where students could use music as a tool for self-expression and healing. Many young people love music but struggle with self-doubt when it comes to performing. Studies show that between 15% and 20% of students aged 12 to 17 deal with self-expression issues, often hiding their talents out of fear of judgment. Soundwave: Beyond the Beat was created to break that cycle and We plan to host an event with Interactive Games – Icebreakers to help students feel comfortable expressing themselves. • Q&A Sessions – Honest conversations about stage fright, self-confidence, and mental well-being. • Live Music – A platform for students to share their musical talents without fear of being judged. • Raffle Incentives – A way to encourage students to take that first step in performing. Music has always had the power to heal, and I want every student to know that their voice matters—not just on stage, but in life. Looking back, my journey in mental health advocacy has been about creating spaces for people to feel safe, understood, and supported. Whether it’s mentoring younger students, using art to raise awareness, ensuring physical safety as a lifeguard, or helping people find confidence through music, my goal has always been to make a difference. I have seen firsthand how powerful it is when someone feels heard when they realize they are not alone. That is what keeps me going. I will continue to fight for mental health awareness, to create programs that uplift those in need, and to use my voice for those who feel like they don’t have one. Because in the end, advocacy isn’t just about talking it’s about taking action. After completing my degree, I plan to pursue a career in music therapy. I want to use my passion for music to help people heal, express themselves, and navigate their emotions. Through my experiences, I’ve seen firsthand how music can provide comfort, connection, and a voice to those who need it most. My goal is to create spaces where people feel safe to explore their emotions through music, whether through therapy sessions, community programs, or educational initiatives. Ultimately, I hope to make a meaningful impact, helping others find the same strength and healing in music that I have.

My background is shaped by resilience, independence, and a deep passion for music. Growing up, I faced challenges that shaped who I am today. I lost my brother before my freshman year, a loss that forced me to navigate grief at a young age. My father was not actively present in my life, but my mother provided unwavering support. From her, I learned the value of self-sufficiency and the importance of staying accountable for my actions. While my journey wasn’t always easy, it has taught me to embrace my independence, stay focused on my goals, and always keep moving forward. Music has been my constant companion through these struggles. It became my escape when things got tough and a way for me to process emotions I couldn’t express with words. After facing heartbreak and the loss of family members, I used music to heal and reconnect with myself. This journey of self-expression inspired me to co-found Soundwave: Beyond the Beat, a project that helps students use music to express their emotions and find healing. Through this, I realized the power of education not just academic learning, but the ability to teach and help others through creative outlets. I am motivated to pursue an education in music and psychology because I want to help others who, like me, have used music to find strength. I hope to become a music therapist, combining my passion for music with my desire to support those struggling with emotional and mental health challenges. With this education, I aim to create spaces where people can heal through art, express themselves freely, and find the courage to overcome adversity. Ultimately, I hope to make a meaningful impact on others' lives, just as music has done for me

I plan to become a music therapist and start organizations that benefits the youth. Mental health has been a huge part of my life, both for me personally and for the people around me. Through my own struggles, I discovered how powerful art—especially music—could be for self-expression and healing. Over time, I realized that my passion for the arts wasn’t just about creating, but about using art to connect with others, raise awareness, and make people feel seen. In high school, I took on a mentorship role, helping younger students navigate their own mental health challenges. It became clear to me that providing a safe, nonjudgmental space for them to express themselves was incredibly important. Music was my way of coping, so I wanted to help others find their own outlet through creativity. This desire led me to co-found Ending the Cycle, a project focused on tackling issues like violence, bullying, and drug abuse using the arts. At our events, students had the chance to share their experiences through drawing, songwriting, or drumming. It was amazing to see how art sparked dialogue, evoked emotions, and helped people process their pain. I saw firsthand how creativity can bring people together and offer them a sense of empowerment. Building on that, I later started Soundwave: Beyond the Beat, an initiative aimed at helping students use music as a tool for self-expression. Many young people struggle with self-doubt and fear being judged for their talents. Research shows that 15-20% of students aged 12 to 17 face these challenges, often hiding their abilities out of fear. With Soundwave, I wanted to break that cycle by creating a space where students could perform without judgment. Through activities like icebreakers, live performances, and open discussions about mental health, my goal was to help students find the courage to embrace their voices, both musically and personally. The arts have this incredible ability to spark wonder, connect people, and create dialogue. My vision for my work is to use art as more than just entertainment—it's about creating spaces where people can express their emotions, share their stories, and feel supported. Music, for example, can transcend words and help people connect in ways that go beyond just the notes and lyrics. Art can increase awareness about important issues, foster understanding, and allow people to connect on a deeper level. In addition to my work in the arts, being a lifeguard has taught me the importance of safety—physically and emotionally. Just as I protect people’s lives in the water, I want to create safe spaces for others to express their emotions through art. Whether it’s through music, mentoring, or community projects, I want to continue advocating for mental health awareness and providing opportunities for people to express themselves. Art is my way of helping others heal, find confidence, and make the world a better place. At the end of the day, advocacy isn’t just about talking—it’s about taking action. Through my passion for the arts, I hope to keep creating spaces that inspire, raise awareness, and provide comfort. I believe in the power of art to transform lives, and I’m committed to using mine to make a meaningful impact.

Losing my brother before my freshman year of high school was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever faced. At such a young age, I was thrust into grief, and it felt like my entire world came crashing down. The weight of his loss was overwhelming, and there were days when even the smallest tasks felt like mountains I couldn’t climb. As I tried to find my footing in high school, I felt emotionally adrift, questioning everything I thought I knew about myself and the world around me. Things got even harder when a two-year relationship ended shortly after. It felt like I lost another piece of stability, and with it, my sense of self. The emotional toll from both the death of my brother and the breakup dragged me into a deep depression. I felt stuck—unmotivated, exhausted, and buried in sadness. There were many days when I just wanted to shut everything out, to disappear. But even in my darkest moments, I kept moving forward, even if it was just one small step at a time. What kept me going was music. During those tough times, music became more than just something I loved—it became my way of surviving. When words didn’t feel like enough, I turned to my guitar, my voice, and my creativity. Music gave me an outlet for the emotions I couldn’t express. It helped me process my grief and heartbreak in a way that nothing else could. Every song I played, every note I sang, became a release for the pain I didn’t know how to carry. Even when everything else felt too heavy to bear, music was the one constant that kept me grounded. Soon, music became more than just a personal escape—it became a tool for healing. I began to understand how powerful self-expression could be, and it sparked something inside of me. I didn’t just want to heal myself; I wanted to help others who were struggling the way I had. That’s when I decided to create Soundwave: Beyond the Beat. The idea was simple: I wanted to give other students a space where they could express themselves through music, especially those who were going through emotional challenges like I had. I wanted them to experience the same release and strength that I had found in music. Starting Soundwave wasn’t easy. It took time and effort to build a community of students willing to share their experiences and emotions. But I knew it would be worth it. Through this project, I learned invaluable skills—things like leadership, communication, and empathy. I also saw, firsthand, how music can bring people together in ways that words alone can’t. One of the most rewarding moments was watching students open up during our sessions. They began sharing their stories, connecting with each other, and finding healing through the music we created. It reminded me that I wasn’t alone in my struggles, and that vulnerability, when shared, has the power to heal. The journey from grief and heartbreak to creating something meaningful has been life-changing. My struggles didn’t define me. Instead, I used them as fuel to follow my passion. Through it all, I learned that perseverance isn’t just about pushing through the hard times—it’s about finding ways to turn those challenges into opportunities for growth. Music became my way of surviving, and now it’s something I want to keep sharing with others.

Music has always been my refuge and my way of expressing emotions that words couldn’t capture. It’s been my constant through life’s challenges—losing my brother before high school, dealing with heartbreak, and struggling with depression. For me, music isn’t just a performance; it’s been a lifeline, a way to heal and find strength in difficult times. Through my experiences, I’ve come to realize how powerful music can be for others as well. I’ve seen how it can bring comfort and a sense of connection when everything else feels uncertain. That’s why I’m so passionate about using my art to help others, just as it has helped me. One of the ways I’ve started giving back is through Soundwave: Beyond the Beat, a project I created to help students use music for emotional healing. I want to provide a space where people can express themselves and connect with their emotions in a way that feels safe. I’ve witnessed how freeing it can be for people to explore their feelings through music, and I want to continue offering that support to others who may need it. In the future, I hope to combine my love for music with a career in music therapy. I believe that music has the power to heal in ways that nothing else can. Whether it’s helping someone work through trauma, managing stress, or simply offering a comforting space for expression, I want to be there for people who need it most. Music therapy offers a way to help people find their voice, reconnect with themselves, and find peace through creativity. Ultimately, I want to make a positive impact by creating spaces where people can heal through music. Whether it’s through my work with Soundwave or in a future career as a music therapist, I plan to use my art to bring people together, help them heal, and empower them to express what they may not be able to say otherwise. Music is powerful, and I want to be a part of using it to make the world a little brighter, one note at a time.