Raised by a conservatory-trained pianist, from the moment I could move around, my mother placed my small hands against black and white keys, teaching me the difference between the treble and bass clef, what dynamics were, and how to use the pedal. Two years later, I bent my fingers against coarse strings as I studied the violin, forcing my parents to endure a decade of screeching and out-of-tune notes. Once I entered high school, I exchanged the violin for the weight of the cello, feeling a sense of safety as I embraced the instrument and held a denser bow. Growing up with a musician as a parent, I have always been drawn to music and taught to respect the arts. Music has been a constant part of my life and yet I have never needed to be convinced because music simply makes me feel joy. For the past fifteen years, when asked what I would like to pursue as my future career, my answer has not changed: sing. I watched my first Broadway show when I was three years old. It was Disney's "The Little Mermaid" and as I watched the stage before me become a glittering ocean world, I was mesmerized. Although I had no concept of what a life dedicated to performance would be like, I announced to my parents that I wanted to do whatever I had just seen on stage for the rest of my life. Since then, this pursuit has never stopped: I have studied classical voice and musical theatre; drilled myself in acting techniques and studied my facial expressions in mirrors; I learned to dance ballet, tap, hip hop, and jazz despite starting as an ungraceful and clumsy student and now train in Modern Dance at Barnard College. Now, I'm a rising sophomore at Columbia University in the City of New York (Columbia College) studying Creative Writing, Music, and Dance. I attended the prestigious Voice & Opera program at the 2021 Interlochen Arts Camp and was invited to attend Stage Daltro Canto with world-renowned Italian soprano Donata D'Annunzio Lombardi in Rome, Italy in August 2023 (but will be unable to attend due to financial difficulties). In the summer of 2017, I went to the Stagedoor Manor Performing Arts Training Center. In 2019, I was invited to the summer program from The Juilliard School of Music in Geneva, Switzerland and studied Voice Performance. I have performed as a solo singer at the Manship Theatre, Princeton University, the Memorial Hall at Stanford University, Collège du Léman in Geneva, and at Columbia University and Barnard College. In December 2020, I won the Musical Theatre category for the Southern Region of the National Association of Teachers of Singing competition (NATS) and placed third for Classical Voice. I have performed with the Columbia Pops Orchestra both as a cellist and solo singer, debuted chamber operas written by contemporary composers, and sang choral works with Columbia's Bach Society. From here, I plan to begin professionally auditioning on and off Broadway as I continue my full-time studies with Columbia. I have dreamed of performing at the Lincoln Center, as a part of the Metropolitan Opera, and within Broadway theatres, and of living a life surrounded by other performers. Music is not mechanical, it is not calculated, and there are no rigid steps to follow. Rather, it requires passion and asks young artists to reveal their most vulnerable selves. Now that I can make my dream a reality, I looked forward to exploring my musicality as a performer, and develop the intimate artistry that music yearns for.

When I consider the dream version of who my future self will be, I think of what matters to me most: to be loved, by those around me and those who I have not yet met, but have touched with my words, actions, and art.

My name is Maddy Manning-Bi and I'm a senior at Stanford University's Online High School. I plan to pursue a dual degree in Voice and Opera Performance and Creative Writing. Raised by a conservatory-trained pianist, from the moment I could move around, my mother placed my small hands against black and white keys, teaching me the difference between the treble and bass clef, what dynamics were, and how to use the pedal. Two years later, I bent fingers against coarse strings as I studied the violin, forcing my parents to endure a decade of screeching and out-of-tune notes as I learned to steady my bow hand and space my fingers properly. As a teenager entering high school, I later exchanged the violin for the weight of the cello, feeling a sense of safety as I embraced the instrument and dragged a denser bow across a crying C string. Growing up with a musician as a parent, I have always been drawn to music and taught to respect the arts. Music has been a constant part of my life and yet I have never needed to be convinced because music simply makes me feel joy. For the past fourteen years, when asked what I would like to pursue as my future career, my answer has not changed: sing. I began visiting conservatories and concert halls at a young age, mesmerized by the feeling of the life that filled the rooms as the sounds of musicians rang through. Even before I had begun studying voice, I felt as if I was at home amongst the faint sounds of students practicing and the clatter of instrument cases tapping against steel walls. When I began to study classical voice at the age of twelve, I was soon lulled by Italian art songs and French pronunciation, eager to learn as much as I could about classical singing. I realized that by studying music, my passion would be shared by others and and I would thrive under the tutelage of talented instructors. During the summer of 2019, I was invited to attend a two-week summer intensive with The Juilliard School in Geneva, Switzerland. This incredible experience solidified my decision to become a musician and pushed me to work as hard as I could to achieve that goal. There, I learned the legacy of opera, realizing that I am captivated by the relatability we can still find in stories from another century, the power of expression as performed through foreign languages, and the beauty of using your voice as an instrument. Moreover, I loved the way it felt to be surrounded by other artists, to know that I was truly understood by those around me. I felt an overwhelming sense of happiness whenever I was in a practice room with other friends, sight-reading sheet music, singing karaoke, and practicing German pieces with one another. I have found safety within the walls of practice rooms, with my fingers pressed against keys, and the sounds of voices ringing. By studying any form of art, we can inspire and be inspired by the artistry of those around us. Music is not mechanical, it is not calculated, and there are no rigid steps to follow. Rather, it requires passion and asks for young artists to reveal their most vulnerable selves. Art is the soul of our society and by exploring our musicality as performers, we not only continue to learn what it means to be a musician, but develop an intimate artistry that connects us to the people in our lives.

On May 17th, 2021, a flash flood in Baton Rouge, Louisiana suddenly flooded and destroyed my childhood home. Alone with my mother, we watched as the water gushed in from all directions and seeped through the walls. As I ran through the house, I saved sheet music, scrapbooks, and anything I could carry, stacking everything onto kitchen counters, our piano, and the dining table. I rescued my cat, Buddy, who was shivering and yowling as he paddled to stay afloat. Eventually, there was nothing more we could do. Over two feet of water had filled the house, destroying all of our furniture, belongings, and cherished memories. Traumatized by the ruin, my family was lost. I couldn’t sleep, becoming a regular insomniac where I spent the night lying awake or had violent nightmares that I couldn’t shake. I knew how tired I was but when the moment came to lay my head against a pillow, I found myself wide awake. I was so exhausted I became nauseous, unable to eat anything or to concentrate on anything. Even writing an email required an incredible amount of effort. Through the love and support of my community, I slowly overcame this devastating destruction. Although the flood proved that nothing in life is promised, I found strength through my mother, friends, coworkers, and classmates who came to the rescue. A family drove from Dallas to our home, staying to help us in any way possible. A colleague rushed to my aid, creating a GoFundMe to support the restoration. My friends stayed up with me, waiting for me to fall asleep. My mother and I held onto each other, reminding ourselves that we would build more memories. This challenge showed me not only the strength I have but the strength provided by those who love you.

To support equality and diversity, I work at the nonprofit Dear Asian Youth (DAY), a diverse global organization "For Asian Youth, By Asian Youth." I discovered DAY in August 2020, just months after the pandemic hit, anti-Asian hate crimes surged, and George Floyd was murdered. I was desperate to make a meaningful impact, but I doubted anyone would listen to what a fifteen-year-old would have to say. Growing up biracial in Louisiana, I've always battled between my white and Asian identity, feeling as if I had to leave one part behind in order to fit in. Searching for a community that would embrace my ethnicity, I applied for a position at DAY, which then had 7,000 Instagram followers. When I first joined, I was an editor for the Literature Department: I was given a voice to represent marginalized communities using literary activism and was accepted into a diverse community that celebrated my heritage. Less than a year later, I was promoted to Communications Deputy Editor-in-Chief (EIC), where I currently oversee a team of writers and editors. DAY's impact reminds me of my generation's power and our drive to change the world. With four other EICS, we each work to keep the literature side of DAY running. When I open our Discord chat––titled "deputy eic baddies" of course––I'm greeted by silly jokes and quippy arguments. Although we each live in vastly different areas of the world, our shared cultural heritage and passion for social justice tie us together. This bond reminds me that at DAY, I have a family. By creating and contributing to a diverse community that aims to create a safe space for anyone in need, we can all continue to learn the art of being kind to one another and in turn, ourselves.

On the evening of May 17th, 2021, a flash flood in Baton Rouge, Louisiana suddenly flooded and destroyed my childhood home. My mom and I were home alone, watching together as the house sank underwater. Water gushed in from all directions, seeping in from doors, walls, and eventually beginning to burst from the pipes of our downstairs bathroom's shower and toilet. The water had been so powerful, it had lifted up our garage door. I saved sheet music, scrapbooks, tax boxes, and several childhood journals from bottom shelves, stacking item after item onto our piano, our kitchen counters, and so high on our dining tables they floated like Jenga blocks. I found my cat Buddy shivering and yowling and I fought with him to let me carry him up the stairs where he hid on top of a plastic container. We stumbled around in the dark, afraid of walking in electrified water; the floorboards creaked and popped, springing from the floor. I felt as if I was on the sinking Titanic. One of the most vivid memories I have of that night is the last time I went downstairs: it was past one in the morning and I frantically searched for any last thing that I could save and carry back upstairs with me. I was dressed in an oversized t-shirt and the water had reached my knees. I was shivering from the freezing temperature of the water, and tripping every step as I attempted to walk through the water. Each step felt as if my feet had been glued to the floor and sandbags were tied around my ankles. Following the flood, I couldn’t sleep, becoming a regular insomniac where I either awoke every twenty minutes, spent the night lying awake, or had violent nightmares that I couldn’t shake even days later. I knew how tired I was but when the moment came to lay my head against a pillow, I found myself wide awake. I was so frustrated I wanted to cry and scream, but instead, I texted with friends who stayed up with me, distracting me with discussions on philosophy, poetry, cute cat pictures, and anything else. I was so exhausted I became nauseous, unable to eat anything or to concentrate on anything. Eating a bag of cheetos and writing an email became strenuous tasks that required an incredible amount of effort. However, through the help of the people around us, I have been able to work to overcome the emotional toll that the natural disaster took on me. It has been close to four months since the flood happened, and while we are still recovering our home, I have grown to appreciate everything in life. I learned that nothing in life is promised, how loving and supportive my community is, and how much strength I have. After the flood, a family friend we had never met before and only communicated with through the online community of my highschool drove from Dallas, Texas to Baton Rouge in the middle of the night, staying for the weekend in order to help us in any way possible. A colleague I worked with at the nonprofit organization Dear Asian Youth rushed to my aid, creating a GoFundMe for my family and I. I realize how extraordinary it is that people showcase their love in ways like this, and I hope to carry these lessons with me in the future. These moments have shaped me into a more compassionate, understanding, and grateful person and as I continue on in life, I hope to repay this kindness to anyone I can.

In a world where money has become more important than educational opportunities for all, millions of students struggle to pursue their dreams because of the financial burden that now comes with a college education. Although I come from a middle-class family, the ability to afford college has become a daily nightmare for me. I constantly worry if I will be able to afford my dream school or any of my options at all without heavy financial aid. I have worked incredibly hard in high school with the hopes of qualifying for scholarships. However, even with my own personal story, I know that this struggle is shared by countless students. Educational inequity is the biggest challenge standing in between prospective students and their dreams of higher education. This should not be the case: education is a tool that should be used to benefit and elevate an individual, not drag them into a pit of financial debt and crisis. Everyone deserves the chance to have an affordable education that allows them to pursue their career goals. If every individual helped to create a support system for those who are in need of assistance when financing their future education, we could promote a fairer and more just society that believes in education over tuition. Educational inequity has a history of targeting oppressed communities and individuals who come from struggling backgrounds. Together, we can work to overcome such a discriminatory practice and save the future of our education.