I hear the wind cue and rush on stage. I plant my feet in first position and clutch my umbrella. The lights shine on my layers of makeup and Mary Poppins costume. The audience roars with excitement. I wish everyone could experience the life-changing moments I consider a huge part of my identity. As the applause ends the scene, my eyes are stuck, not on someone in the audience, but on one of my peers. Katherine, a friend since we were 2, stood up out of her wheelchair and walked on stage. The feeding tube in her throat still caused restrictions, but with the little voice she had left she performed. There were days I knew Katherine was in pain, but her smile while taking a bow showed me how much the arts truly affected her. That feeling of belonging and community gave Katherine something to look forward to, even from her hospital bed. In the ten years I’ve been honing my theater craft, I have worked with students who enjoy music and theatre but, like Katherine, are restricted from participating due to physical or mental disabilities Music is life-changing. I am taking steps to ensure everyone can participate. I am focusing on improving as a performer and on teaching the craft that I love so dearly, whether in the classroom or as a director, in a setting where all students, no matter what they are capable of, can perform. I am currently studying theater education at Emerson college to become a person that makes these changes in the theatre community. I want to be the one to make sure every single person is included in the arts. The curtain closes and the spotlight dims. Though the lights are off, I know that I can touch the hearts of others and create a new reality to give kids with disabilities a place to shine.

I hear the wind cue and rush on stage. I plant my feet in first position and clutch my umbrella. The lights shine on my layers of makeup and Mary Poppins costume. I sing the first note I have practiced a million times, but in front of an audience, it becomes different; I leave my stress backstage and experience the world for the first time. The audience roars with excitement. Throughout the performance, I watch people crack a smile and fall into the story. I wish everyone could experience the life-changing moments I consider a huge part of my identity. We are all born a blank slate. Each human interaction is a new line drawn and each color brings this picture to life. Each giggle or tear shed adds to this picture and forms our identity. Every hand I shake and every child that runs up to me after the show constructs my canvas-- performing and making others happy. As the applause ends the scene, my eyes are stuck, not on someone in the audience, but on one of my peers. Katherine, a friend since we were 2, stood up out of her wheelchair and walked on stage. The feeding tube in her throat still caused restrictions, but with the little voice she had left she performed. There were days I knew Katherine was in pain, but her smile while taking a bow showed me how much the arts truly affected her. When on stage, the energy from every performer comes together to form magic. That feeling of belonging and community gave Katherine something to look forward to, even from her hospital bed. In the ten years I’ve been honing my theater craft, I have worked with students who enjoy music and theatre but, like Katherine, are restricted from participating due to physical or mental disabilities. My dream is to help all kids perform, so I have proposed an after school program at my high school that unifies all children through the arts and introduces basic acting, singing, and dancing to students who are not usually able to participate in musicals. At the end of the program, students showcase what they have learned in front of their family and friends. Music is life-changing. I am taking steps to ensure everyone can participate. I am focusing on improving as a performer and on teaching the craft that I love so dearly, whether in the classroom or as a director, in a setting where all students, no matter what they are capable of, can perform. I am going to continue theater studies in the college classroom and through extracurricular programs and community service. I would love to perform professionally, and I am going to construct opportunities for others to add to the design of their own canvases. Though the children don’t believe what Mary Poppins is teaching them is real, she is creating a reality. Performing as Mary Poppins taught me that I can create a new reality. As I run on stage to take my bow, I look around the auditorium. I understand the performance I completed was not only a new line on my canvas but a line on Katherine’s too. It was also a line on every single audience member's canvas. The curtain closes and the spotlight dims. Though the lights are off, I know that I can touch the hearts of others and create a new reality to give kids with disabilities a place to shine.

I hear the wind cue and rush on stage. I plant my feet in first position and clutch my umbrella. The lights shine on my layers of makeup and Mary Poppins costume. I sing the first note I have practiced a million times, but in front of an audience, it becomes different; I leave my stress backstage and experience the world for the first time. The audience roars with excitement. Throughout the performance, I watch people crack a smile and fall into the story. I wish everyone could experience the life-changing moments I consider a huge part of my identity. We are all born a blank slate. Each human interaction is a new line drawn and each color brings this picture to life. Each giggle or tear shed adds to this picture and forms our identity. Every hand I shake and every child that runs up to me after the show constructs my canvas-- performing and making others happy. As the applause ends the scene, my eyes are stuck, not on someone in the audience, but on one of my peers. Katherine, a friend since we were 2, stood up out of her wheelchair and walked on stage. The feeding tube in her throat still caused restrictions, but with the little voice she had left she performed. There were days I knew Katherine was in pain, but her smile while taking a bow showed me how much the arts truly affected her. When on stage, the energy from every performer comes together to form magic. That feeling of belonging and community gave Katherine something to look forward to, even from her hospital bed. In the ten years I’ve been honing my theater craft, I have worked with students who enjoy music and theatre but, like Katherine, are restricted from participating due to physical or mental disabilities. My dream is to help all kids perform, so I have proposed an after school program at my high school that unifies all children through the arts and introduces basic acting, singing, and dancing to students who are not usually able to participate in musicals. At the end of the program, students showcase what they have learned in front of their family and friends. Music is life-changing. I am taking steps to ensure everyone can participate. I am focusing on improving as a performer and on teaching the craft that I love so dearly, whether in the classroom or as a director, in a setting where all students, no matter what they are capable of, can perform. I am going to continue theater studies in the college classroom and through extracurricular programs and community service. I would love to perform professionally, and I am going to construct opportunities for others to add to the design of their own canvases. Though the children don’t believe what Mary Poppins is teaching them is real, she is creating a reality. Performing as Mary Poppins taught me that I can create a new reality. As I run on stage to take my bow, I look around the auditorium. I understand the performance I completed was not only a new line on my canvas but a line on Katherine’s too. It was also a line on every single audience member's canvas. The curtain closes and the spotlight dims. Though the lights are off, I know that I can touch the hearts of others and create a new reality to give kids with disabilities a place to shine.

I hear the wind cue and rush on stage. I plant my feet in first position and clutch my umbrella. The lights shine on my layers of makeup and Mary Poppins costume. I sing the first note I have practiced a million times, but in front of an audience, it becomes different; I leave my stress backstage and experience the world for the first time. The audience roars with excitement. Throughout the performance, I watch people crack a smile and fall into the story. I wish everyone could experience the life-changing moments I consider a huge part of my identity. We are all born a blank slate. Each human interaction is a new line drawn and each color brings this picture to life. Each giggle or tear shed adds to this picture and forms our identity. Every hand I shake and every child that runs up to me after the show constructs my canvas-- performing and making others happy. As the applause ends the scene, my eyes are stuck, not on someone in the audience, but on one of my peers. Katherine, a friend since we were 2, stood up out of her wheelchair and walked on stage. The feeding tube in her throat still caused restrictions, but with the little voice she had left she performed. There were days I knew Katherine was in pain, but her smile while taking a bow showed me how much the arts truly affected her. When on stage, the energy from every performer comes together to form magic. That feeling of belonging and community gave Katherine something to look forward to, even from her hospital bed. In the ten years I’ve been honing my theater craft, I have worked with students who enjoy music and theatre but, like Katherine, are restricted from participating due to physical or mental disabilities. My dream is to help all kids perform, so I have proposed an after school program at my high school that unifies all children through the arts and introduces basic acting, singing, and dancing to students who are not usually able to participate in musicals. At the end of the program, students showcase what they have learned in front of their family and friends. The arts are life-changing. I am taking steps to ensure everyone can participate. I am focusing on improving as a performer and on teaching the craft that I love so dearly, whether in the classroom or as a director, in a setting where all students, no matter what they are capable of, can perform. I am going to continue theater studies in the college classroom and through extracurricular programs and community service. I would love to perform professionally, and I am going to construct opportunities for others to add to the design of their own canvases. Though the children don’t believe what Mary Poppins is teaching them is real, she is creating a reality. Performing as Mary Poppins taught me that I can create a new reality. As I run on stage to take my bow, I look around the auditorium. I understand the performance I completed was not only a new line on my canvas but a line on Katherine’s too. It was also a line on every single audience member's canvas. The curtain closes and the spotlight dims. Though the lights are off, I know that I can touch the hearts of others and create a new reality to give kids with disabilities a place to shine.

I hear the wind cue and rush on stage. I plant my feet in first position and clutch my umbrella. The lights shine on my layers of makeup and Mary Poppins costume. I sing the first note I have practiced a million times, but in front of an audience, it becomes different; I leave my stress backstage and experience the world for the first time. The audience roars with excitement. Throughout the performance, I watch people crack a smile and fall into the story. I wish everyone could experience the life-changing moments I consider a huge part of my identity. We are all born a blank slate. Each human interaction is a new line drawn and each color brings this picture to life. Each giggle or tear shed adds to this picture and forms our identity. Every hand I shake and every child that runs up to me after the show constructs my canvas-- performing and making others happy. As the applause ends the scene, my eyes are stuck, not on someone in the audience, but on one of my peers. Katherine, a friend since we were 2, stood up out of her wheelchair and walked on stage. The feeding tube in her throat still caused restrictions, but with the little voice she had left she performed. There were days I knew Katherine was in pain, but her smile while taking a bow showed me how much the arts truly affected her. When on stage, the energy from every performer comes together to form magic. That feeling of belonging and community gave Katherine something to look forward to, even from her hospital bed. In the ten years I’ve been honing my theater craft, I have worked with students who enjoy music and theatre but, like Katherine, are restricted from participating due to physical or mental disabilities. My dream is to help all kids perform, so I have proposed an after school program at my high school that unifies all children through the arts and introduces basic acting, singing, and dancing to students who are not usually able to participate in musicals. At the end of the program, students showcase what they have learned in front of their family and friends. Music is life-changing. I am taking steps to ensure everyone can participate. I am focusing on improving as a performer and on teaching the craft that I love so dearly, whether in the classroom or as a director, in a setting where all students, no matter what they are capable of, can perform. I am going to continue theater studies in the college classroom and through extracurricular programs and community service. I would love to perform professionally, and I am going to construct opportunities for others to add to the design of their own canvases. Though the children don’t believe what Mary Poppins is teaching them is real, she is creating a reality. Performing as Mary Poppins taught me that I can create a new reality. As I run on stage to take my bow, I look around the auditorium. I understand the performance I completed was not only a new line on my canvas but a line on Katherine’s too. It was also a line on every single audience member's canvas. The curtain closes and the spotlight dims. Though the lights are off, I know that I can touch the hearts of others and create a new reality to give kids with disabilities a place to shine.