On my birthday on November 11th, 2013, my house was broken into, glass had scattered across the floor, drawers left open and door broken down. My parents saved their money to buy me a Mario backpack that I’ve wanted ever since I laid eyes on it at Ross. My parents and I came home from taking me to chik fil a, and upon arrivals we noticed that our house was robbed. My eyes became watery in that moment when my mom informed me that all their money they had was gone. I felt forlorn for a moment and stood there with one thought in my mind, “what were my parents going to do now?”. As the glass was being picked off the floor and into a Walmart bag, my mothers eyes start tearing up, I asked her what was wrong and upon discovery, the robbers not only stole money, but also stole my birthday present that she had bought me. It never really occurred to me until later in the future that my mother cried not because of the money she had saved up to try and leave our horrid neighborhood was gone, but the fact that she knew how much my present meant to me and knew the emotions running mg through my head. From that moment I vowed, that my purpose in life is to protect and provide for my family. No more Maruchan meals or being fearful of eviction. El amor todo lo puede.

Music has a way of reaching people in ways that words alone never can. It doesn’t just fill a space—it fills something deeper, something internal that you don’t always realize is there until it’s awakened. For me, music didn’t start as a passion. It started as an accident. When I joined band in middle school, I didn’t do it for the music. I joined because my friend was in band, and I wanted to sit with him during the day. Band students had their own space, their own section, and that was enough of a reason for me. I didn’t think about what it meant to be a musician, and I definitely didn’t see myself becoming one. In fact, I had already made up my mind—I was going to quit before I even reached my freshman year of high school. One day, I went home and told my mom exactly that. I expected her to agree or not think much of it, but instead, she encouraged me to stay. She told me to at least give it a chance in high school, to see the friendships I might build and the experiences I might have. At the time, her words didn’t carry much weight to me, but I agreed anyway. I didn’t realize that decision would change the direction of my life. Not long after, our band took a field trip to the TCU Jazz Festival. I walked into the auditorium with no expectations. To me, it was just another trip, another day away from school. But the moment I stepped inside, everything changed. A wave of sound hit me—powerful, alive, and impossible to ignore. A student musician stood on stage, performing a solo. The notes weren’t just sounds; they were expressions, emotions brought to life through music. Each phrase seemed to speak, to tell a story I didn’t yet understand but could feel deeply. The melody ran through my ears, down my spine, and throughout my entire body. It was the first time I had ever truly felt music. In that moment, I realized how much I had been missing. What I once saw as just another class became something meaningful, something alive. I sat there in complete awe for the rest of the performance, hanging onto every note, every shift in sound. When the concert ended, I didn’t feel the relief of being done—I felt gratitude. Gratitude that I had stayed, that I had listened to my mom, and that I had been given the chance to witness something so powerful. That experience didn’t just change how I saw music—it changed how I saw myself. What began as a simple decision to sit with a friend became the start of a journey. Music went from being an afterthought to becoming something that could move me, challenge me, and connect me to something greater than myself. Sometimes, the most meaningful paths in life begin in the most unexpected ways. I didn’t choose music at first—but in that auditorium, music chose me. I decided from that moment on I would become one of the greatest jazz trombone players. To be able to inspire one through music is my dream. Music has the power to bring people together and create jubilant memories that will exist for eternity.

Band has shaped me in more ways than I ever expected, developing skills in my life that go far beyond music. I can still remember the first time I thought about joining band. At my middle school, there were two lines before school,one for regular students and one for band students carrying their instruments. I saw my friend standing in the band line, and I just wanted to be next to him and talk. That was my entire motivation. I asked my mom to speak to my counselor about joining band for that simple, ambition-less reason. When I finally joined second semester, my focus was more on meeting new people than actually learning how to play the trombone. Then COVID hit, and I missed much of my seventh-grade year. When I returned, I had fallen behind and knew I had to work twice as hard to catch up. I had never made All-Region or district, and I did not consider myself particularly strong on my instrument. Everything changed when I joined my high school marching band. I quickly realized there were levels to musicianship that I had never experienced before. The seniors in my section sounded incredible. Their tone, confidence, and control amazed me. I remember thinking, “I want to sound like that one day.” One of my favorite memories was after a football game when I was invited to a teammate’s house for the first time. We swam, laughed, and even played trombone in the pool — even though I sounded terrible. But in that moment, I felt accepted. My section became more than classmates; they became a support system. After my first year, I made the top ensemble. That achievement motivated me to practice intensely every single day because I wanted to make All-Region for the first time. During summer band camp, I walked into the auditorium and decided to attempt a high note just to challenge myself. I played an E-flat well above the staff, and it rang through the room for what felt like two full seconds. Everyone turned and stared. I didn’t know whether to feel proud or embarrassed — but I knew I had grown. From that moment forward, I practiced relentlessly, listening to jazz charts and classical recordings. When All-Region auditions arrived, I performed with confidence and earned my first placement. I had never felt prouder. Later, after hearing “Misty” arranged for trombone, I became fascinated with jazz improvisation and chord changes. I pushed myself again and made Jazz All-Region my senior year, advancing to the Area level for the second time. Although I placed fourth at Area, I felt accomplished because I understood how far I had come. Band has taught me discipline, resilience, and the importance of aiming higher. I remind myself daily: be proud of your accomplishments, but never be satisfied. This scholarship would not only support my education but also continue fueling my lifelong commitment to growth through music.