More than ever, kids need support. According to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, there has been a 45% increase in the diagnosis of depression in adolescence from 2016 to 2026. I was diagnosed with depression in 2017 when I was 13, and my biggest supporter through it was my band director. She provided one-on-one support and also gave me a community through music. She encouraged me to join the jazz band, where I really learned to express myself and made lifelong friends with whom I still perform in college to this day. She helped me grow into the person I am today, and I’m forever grateful to her. She is why I am pursuing a degree in music education. Music gave me a voice when I didn’t think I had one, and so many children feel the same way: voiceless and meaningless. To create a cohesive ensemble, everyone needs to listen to themselves and each other. Educators will commonly use the terms “Level 1-3 listening” Level 1 listening is listening to yourself. Do I sound as good as I can? Is my sound supported? Am I playing the right notes? Level 2 is listening to the people in your section. Are we in tune with each other? Do our tones blend into one unified sound? Are we moving together? Level 3 is listening to the rest of the band. Are we listening to the lower voices? Are we making way for the softer instruments? Are we giving each section its moment to shine? I want to give those children a voice and offer them the one-on-one support that my band director gave me. I want to give them a community of like-minded people and teach them empathy and teamwork through music, because in a time when children feel so isolated, they need it more than ever.

I’ve always had a passion for music, specifically teaching it. As a little kid, I would teach my little brother melodies on the piano. As a teen, I tutored younger students on the saxophone. And now, I’m in my 20s, and I’m pursuing a degree in music education. It’s something that’s been with me for as long as I can remember—this drive not only to play, but to help others find their voice through music too. Music education is one of the most important things a school can offer, so it’s a shame that so many schools are defunding programs, if they even have them at all. Music isn’t just about learning notes and rhythms. It’s a team activity that teaches you to listen to others, to express feelings, and to work together to create something beautiful.These are things that all children deserve access to, regardless of where they live or what their test scores look like. I know this firsthand. As a teen who struggled to put words to my complicated emotions, my instruments spoke for me when I couldn’t. Playing music gave me space to feel things I didn’t yet have the vocabulary for or the courage to say out loud. It helped me find peace when nothing else did. Students need a teacher to have access to these opportunities, so that’s what I want to be. While all students deserve strong music programs, I especially want to reach students who are like me when I was younger. I want to be the trusted adult for the kids who always seem to be having a bad day, who are being picked on for being different, for their disabilities, their queerness, their silence, or their sensitivity. Students with anxiety, students who need an instrument to speak for them when they can’t—I want to be there for them. Through my music career, I’ve only ever had one teacher who was able to help me feel safe or at home. She would ask me if I was okay if I seemed down, and she would give me opportunities to perform on my own. She’s the first adult I came out to as transgender. If it weren’t for her, I probably wouldn’t have lived this long. I want to be everything I needed from a music teacher when I was their age. Hopefully, my students will go on to be full of empathy, know how to express their emotions, how to work as a team, and most importantly, feel like they got the support they needed. If I can be that support, then I know I’ve done something right.

Collaboration is arguably the most important part of music. Still, many are afraid to branch out beyond their specific field of music and meet people whose music of choice is different from theirs. I’m a classical bassoonist/saxophonist and jazz saxophonist, and before college, I never really branched out beyond other classical and jazz musicians. However, since getting to college, I met people and made friends with people who do pop music, RnB, rock music, stuff I never really thought about taking part in. Additionally, These are people who do music almost entirely digitally. While some are intimidated or even offended by the tech overlords usurping the creation of music, these new friends showed me the possibilities of how we could work together to create music. My favorite “collaborative experience” so far is small and quite silly, but something that brought me closer to one of these friends. When hanging out with my new digital music friends, sometimes we all just work on projects, occasionally with no headphones. One time, one person, a pop artist, was working without headphones and was having a really hard time getting a chord progression to work. They were changing every chord around but the last one. “Angel,” I interrupted them, “change everything back and just lower the 7th on the final chord.” I didn’t think too hard about it. It just felt natural to me. Everyone stopped what they were doing and listened. When Angel played back the chord progression, now with the “spicy chord,” as they like to call it, everyone got real excited, and Angel’s jaw dropped. I didn’t think to hard about it, but they said my jazz experience improved their music. Something so simple to me helped my friend, who is more used to simpler chord progressions, and now people come to me for help making their chord progressions more “interesting” or “spicy.” My favorite part of making these new friends is not the fact I can beg them to get me into the recording studio and produce for me while I just sit back and let them work after recording a few takes but that I can learn from them and vice versa. Hanging out with them in the studio, helping them with chord progressions (“Hey Kris, you do jazz, how do I make this ‘spicy’ sounding?” The answer is usually lower the 7th), and broadening my horizons beyond just classical and jazz music. Every time they show me their demos or ask for help with some chords, I remember why I do this. I won’t lie; I do take advantage of the access to studios and people who know how to produce, but it’s a relationship that benefits everyone involved. I’ve always wanted to record jazz music, but I haven't had access to studios and producers; my friends want to get better at recording and producing for instrumentalists and have a budding interest in jazz music. I’ve wanted to take part in the composition process of vocal music; my friends want to utilize jazz theory to make their music “more interesting.” These relationships have given all of us opportunities to learn and put some real fun projects to our names, and I couldn’t be happier to be collaborating with such passionate musicians.

Music has been a part of my life since birth. I grew up with parents who had a diverse music taste and who introduced me to classical music, jazz, fusion, punk rock, and any other genre you can think of; they played it in the car while driving me to school in the morning. There was always music in the house. My mom would sing along to her favorite songs in the kitchen while cooking; my dad would play guitar when he got home. Music was an inevitability for me, and I embraced it fully. I started playing piano when I was 8, saxophone when I was 10, and even recently picked up bassoon “just because.” However, even with all of my passion, it is hard to pinpoint a “why?” Reading the prompt, I began to think, “Why am I continuing to do this?” Is it just because I like it? Is it because it’s all I’ve ever known? I love playing music, but why? The more I thought, the more I felt existential. Music is such a difficult industry. What are the chances that my passion and skill actually get me far? When I finally realized my “why,” I started laughing out loud. It was almost comical that I didn’t think of this immediately: I do music because of the friendships and connections I make. Since we picked out our instruments for band in the fifth grade, I’ve surrounded myself with people who share my passion for playing their instruments. However, even all the way through high school, I was only friends with other instrumentalists. Now, in college, I’ve made friends with people who make music differently than me, specifically people who produce music digitally. While some are intimidated or even offended by the tech overlords usurping the creation of music, these new friends showed me the possibilities of how we could work together to create music. My favorite part of making these new friends is not the fact I can beg them to get me into the recording studio and produce for me while I just sit back and let them work after recording a few takes but that I can learn from them and vice versa. Hanging out with them in the studio, helping them with chord progressions (“Hey Kris, you do jazz, how do I make this ‘spicy’ sounding?” The answer is usually lower the 7th), and broadening my horizons beyond just classical and jazz music. A lot of these new friends do pop and RnB music, and every time they show me their demos or ask for help with some chords, I remember why I do this. I won’t lie; I do take advantage of the access to studios and people who know how to produce, but it’s a relationship that benefits everyone involved. I’ve always wanted to record jazz music, but I haven't had access to studios and producers; my friends want to get better at recording and producing for instrumentalists and have a budding interest in jazz music. I’ve wanted to take part in the composition process of vocal music; my friends want to utilize jazz theory to make their music “more interesting.” These relationships have given all of us opportunities to learn and put some real fun projects to our names. My “debut album” is in the works, and it’s completely thanks to the friends I’ve made since getting to college. They’ve helped me grow more comfortable with programs like Protools and utilizing digital instruments alongside the analog saxophone and piano; they’ve helped me realize it’s ok for me to utilize plugins and EQ and filters to give my music the exact sound I want, even if “the greats” I admire so much couldn’t or wouldn’t. All of these tools that I thought took humanity out of creation are actually helping me turn my imagination into a sound that people can hear and enjoy. The friends who changed my perspective and whom I work with to create art aren’t just my “why.” They’re my “how,” and I couldn’t be more grateful that they gave me those both.

When I was little, probably four or five, my family went to see the San Diego Symphony in Balboa Park. People like to say, "Why bring your small child to something like that? What are they even gaining?" However, seeing that performance was the start of the rest of my life. From that moment, I knew I wanted to perform music. When it was time to pick out instruments for the 5th-grade band, my best friend (whom I still perform with to this day) and I picked the saxophone. When we were 13, we joined our middle school's jazz band, and instantly, I knew jazz was my thing. Even though I wasn't very good at it yet, the freedom and emotion of soloing just appealed to me in a way nothing else had. Now, seven years later, I find myself at a school renowned for its jazz program, still playing the saxophone and still soloing (and I'd like to think I've gotten a little better at it). But more than the technical improvement, it's the joy and fulfillment that I get from music that truly matters. Jazz isn't my only musical passion. Since attending college, I've taken up the bassoon, which I perform in numerous ensembles, such as the symphonic winds and symphony orchestra. However, jazz saxophone will always hold a special place in my heart. Of course, I couldn't have gotten this far without the support of my amazing teachers and professors. It was my middle school music teacher who encouraged me to join the jazz band, and it was my college professor who pushed me to solo more and gave me opportunities to shine on stage. Both of them are simultaneously teaching and performing, and for lack of better words, I want to be just like them when I grow up; I want to be an inspiration to students with an interest in jazz while traveling and performing. I currently dabble in tutoring, mostly helping newer saxophonists with the basics of jazz styles, soloing, and some of the more technical aspects of the saxophone. I've realized during this experience that I really have a passion for teaching and seeing my students grow; I love passing on what I've learned from my mentors and heroes to people with a budding passion for the art of jazz. I know that to progress as an educator, I need to keep studying, and thankfully, I am hungry for knowledge. Even if it's a little boring, I'll pay attention in my theory class because I know that without it, I won't get very far. While my ultimate goal is to lead a jazz band at a college, I know that regardless of what happens, jazz will continue to be a part of my life and my journey.

My name is Kristopher, and I want to be a teacher. Growing up queer and autistic, I faced many hardships; I was bullied all through elementary and middle school by students AND teachers. It only stopped when I completely isolated myself in high school. I didn't talk to anybody. I kept my eyes down and my headphones on. I wanted nothing more than a teacher who I could go to and who would understand. I needed a grown-up to listen to me and help me out. Unfortunately, in my entire school life, I only ever had one. Her name was Ms. C, and she was the music teacher at my middle school. Music has been my "special interest" for as long as I can remember, and even before that. So naturally, I would join the school's band despite the sensory overload of music class. Ms. C was one of the main reasons. She was young, passionate, calm, and kind, and I gravitated toward her immediately. She was so empathetic toward my struggles with being bullied; she also experienced bullying growing up. She let me eat lunch in her office and was always there for me to talk to; she was the first adult I ever came out to. But the only thing she couldn't provide was a complete understanding of my queer and autistic experience. Of course, I didn't expect that from her, and she was more than perfect at being a teacher and a trusted adult. Unfortunately, openly queer or autistic teachers are very uncommon. Prejudice against queer people and the lack of accessibility schools have for even their autistic students makes it completely understandable that someone who is both queer and autistic would avoid the field of education. However, the world needs more Ms. Cs; students need teachers who are passionate about their subject and can lend an ear. I am going to become a music teacher, no matter how much hate gets thrown my way and no matter how hard it will be. I know that I will be a fantastic teacher, not despite being autistic and queer, but BECAUSE I'm autistic and queer. I can provide a place where people who are passionate about music can feel safe and be that trusted adult a student can come to if they are getting bullied. I want to be like Ms. C and more. But most of all, I want to provide an example of a queer and autistic person who made it. Queer and autistic youth struggle with suicidal thoughts and actions, and I know I've thought, "Is it even worth it?" so many times. If a young queer person can see me thriving and happy, maybe it will help them keep going; if a young autistic person can see someone succeeding BECAUSE they are autistic, maybe they will pursue their dreams. It will be challenging, but thinking about Ms. C, 12-year-old me, and all the children like me makes it all worth it. Even if I improve one student's life, I will have fulfilled my purpose in life and will be happy.

Music has been the driving force in my life for nearly the entirety of it so far. It all started when I was three years old and received some toy instruments for Christmas. I got a toy saxophone, a toy trumpet, and a cat-shaped keyboard. From that moment on, I was hooked. I knew the second I learned about the school band I would join on saxophone. The toy sax was my favorite of the three. I taught myself songs by ear and wrote my own. If you could even consider the series of noises I made a "song." Either way, I was in love. The wait until 5th grade was agonizing for me. I wanted a "real-live" saxophone! Until then, I took piano lessons in 2nd grade and listened to Debussy and Mozart on my little CD player/radio to sleep; I would steal my dad's Miles Davis CDs and sing along to Cannonball's solo on "All Blues." I was ecstatic when I finally got my "real-live" saxophone in 5th grade. I already knew how to read music, so I excelled in the class and got up in front of all my classmates during our little school concert and played "The Pink Panther." I was really good for a fifth-grader. After that, I was known around the school as "the saxophone kid." I was the coolest 5th grader in the school. The middle school band was even better. I got to play so much more than hot-cross-buns; I got to play "real music." I remember my first middle school concert perfectly: We played "The Tempest" by Robert W. Smith. Of course, it being middle school, I had a tough time. We didn't know that I was autistic, I had crippling anxiety and depression, and I had just realized that I was queer. So I struggled through middle school, going from pill to pill, trying to find a "normal" in possibly the most brutal years of my life; I was in therapy for my suicidal thoughts, but I remember telling my therapist, "Music is the only thing keeping me going." High school has been equally, if not more challenging, and music helped me navigate and express myself. Music was there when nobody else was, and I'm so grateful for it. I did marching band every year in high school. I've been in the wind ensemble and performed solo pieces such as "Ballad in Memory of Shirley Horn" by Richard Rodney Bennet in front of judges. I've also performed in the jazz band. I currently play 2nd Tenor in the school's top jazz band, soloing in the school's sold-out theater. Now here I am, graduating high school and enrolled at a community college to major in music next semester. I've come so far since my little toy saxophone. I will pursue a Ph.D. in music and help passionate students achieve happiness through music and self-expression; I want all the kids in love with their little toy instruments to continue to thrive through music.