Growing up, I never saw giving back as separate from pursuing my own dreams. I saw them as the same act and that belief has shaped both my music and my work in the community, specifically with The LuvMat Homeless Project. LuvMat is an initiative I founded when I was younger to collect blankets, toiletries, and food for people experiencing homelessness in my community. What started as a small effort to meet an immediate need has become something larger; a reminder that dignity and care are things everyone deserves access to, regardless of circumstance. Music taught me this lesson before I could articulate it. My high school band director Chris De Leon, never let us think of musicianship as a solitary pursuit. He pushed us to listen to each other, to support the people around us so the whole ensemble could rise together. I approached LuvMat in the same manner. I couldn't collect blankets and meals alone any more than I could play a symphony alone. It required trust, coordination, and a community willing to show up for people they might never meet. Sloane Stephens's story resonates with me for exactly this reason. She founded her foundation at while competing at the highest level of her sport. That’s the model I want to continue by not waiting until I've "arrived" as a musician to start giving back, but building service into my life now, alongside my training. Trumpeter Wynton Marsalis has shaped how I think about impact in a similar way. His idea that mastery is a process, not a destination, reminds me that giving back is never “finished”; it's ongoing, evolving, and most powerful when it's built into a life rather than treated as a single gesture. This fall, I'll begin studying Trumpet Performance at the Manhattan School of Music, and I already know my education won't be just for me. I'm the first of my siblings to attend college, and my three younger sisters are watching closely. I want them and other students to see that it's possible to pursue something as demanding and uncertain as a career in music while still building a life rooted in service. My vision for the future is to use music as a bridge into the communities that need it most by bringing performance, mentorship, and access to young people who might not otherwise have a safe space to learn and grow. Like Sloane, I want my impact to outlast any single moment on stage. The change I'm determined to create isn't a single achievement, it’s a pattern. I want my life to prove that a person can chase an extraordinary dream and still turn around to lift others as they go.

Music has never been a hobby for me, it has always been a direction. From the moment I picked up the trumpet in fifth grade, I knew I was not simply learning an instrument. I was finding a language. Over the years, that conviction has only deepened, and this fall I will take the most significant step of my musical life by beginning my Bachelor of Music in Trumpet Performance at the Manhattan School of Music. Choosing MSM was not a decision I made lightly. I researched programs across the country and kept coming back to one conclusion: there is no better place in the world to train as a classical brass performer. The faculty alone set the school apart. Studying under artists who perform with the country's leading orchestras and ensembles means I will be learning not just technique, but the lived reality of a professional career. The school's location in New York City adds another layer I cannot ignore as the most active classical music market in the nation will essentially be my extended classroom. I chose trumpet performance as my major because I want to be honest about what I am training for. A performance degree is not a fallback, it is a commitment. It signals to the professional world, and to myself, that I intend to compete at the highest level. The curriculum at MSM reflects that seriousness: rigorous private study, chamber music, orchestral repertoire, music theory, and ear training all combine to develop musicians who can function in demanding professional environments from the day they graduate. This is the foundation I need. My immediate educational goal is to become the strongest player I can be. That means showing up prepared for every lesson, taking advantage of master classes and auditioning for every ensemble opportunity available to me. Growth as a performer does not happen passively. I plan to seek out peer collaboration, participate in competitions, and record myself regularly to develop honest self-assessment, which is a skill that too many musicians overlook. Beyond graduation, I see two paths that I hope will run parallel rather than compete. The first is orchestral performance. Earning a position in a professional orchestra is one of the most competitive outcomes in classical music. The second path involves teaching, something I expect to be part of my career in a meaningful way. College will give me the training, the network, and the professional exposure to make any of those outcomes possible. I am facing roughly $86,000 per year in college expenses but I am ready to work for it. My confirmed funding is $35k scholarship + $20k parents gives me $55k, leaving a $31k annual gap. The goal of the plan is to attack that gap from multiple directions so I can graduate with little to no debt. The most important factor is seeking additional scholarships like this opportunity. I will also work on developing gig income. Year 1 will be slower as I am new to the city and still building a professional network. By Year 2–3, with a local union card and a reputation developing, NYC wedding and event work can realistically bring in $7,000–10,000 a year without interfering with my school schedule. The key is staying at or under 15 hours of work per week total so my playing doesn't suffer. By Year 4, by hitting my scholarship and gig targets, I could be down to a $3,000 annual gap which is the kind of number a good competition win or one solid semester of private teaching can close entirely. This is my attainable dream.

I grew up as a kid who needed somewhere to put a lot of energy, and music turned out to be that place. What started as picking up a trumpet in elementary school became, by the time I reached Dreyfoos School of the Arts, the center of how I understood myself. My education in both the arts and academics have pushed me in ways a general school schedule never could with daily rehearsals, ensemble work, performances that demanded real preparation, and constant exposure to students working just as hard in other art areas. That environment taught me that talent gets you in the door, but discipline is what keeps you in the room. That said, I believe that one of my biggest strengths is adaptability. I work well with other people; years of ensemble playing taught me how to listen as much as I perform, which has made me a dependable collaborator rather than someone who needs the spotlight to feel usand therefore many times, I will hold on to that missed or fumbled note for far too long instead of embracing the lesson that emerges from it. Last summer, I had the opportunity to play in the National Youth Orchestra (NYO-USA), where, initially, I compared myself to other musicians. In my strive for versatility, I felt out of place as a jazz musician in classical settings, yet also as a classical musician in jazz settings. Jazz bassist Russell Hall encourages musicians to have a personal relationship with every note and chord. By the conclusion of the program, I turned from having anxiety before every rehearsal, to finding euphoria in every note I shared with my peers in NYO-USA. As my conductor at NYO, Gianandrea Noseda, echoed to me: music should “create a state of ecstasy, not a point of excitement.” Harmony mirrors life. I know that I cannot live my life waiting for the perfect cadence or phrase. My experience taught me that I will need to differentiate anxious ambition (which stems from selfishness) from the peaceful ambition. Humility will keep me open to learning from teachers, being inspired by and collaborating with my peers, and most importantly, seeking to serve the music instead of seeking to prove myself. My hope for the future is to keep building a life around music, whether that ends up looking like performance, teaching, arranging, or some combination I haven't discovered yet. I truly hope to stay connected to the thing that made me who I am, and using it to give something back. I saw at Dreyfoos how much music can do for a community when it's shared generously, especially through events like the Multicultural Show at my school, where music became a way of honoring cultures and bringing very different people into the same room. I want to keep creating those moments, whether that's through teaching young musicians who don't have much access to arts education, performing in community spaces, or simply staying involved in programs that use music to bring people together. This scholarship would meet a pressing need for me as I move into college, where tuition, instrument maintenance, and the cost of being a full-time music student add up quickly. Financial assistance will help me focus on becoming the musician and the contributor to my community that I'm working toward, instead of constantly worrying about how to make the next semester work.

Choosing music can be attributed largely to the following aspects of my life: My environment, education, and resources. From a young age, my musical environment molded me into who I am today, and this is evident in countless ways: The sacred sounds of the church organ and gospel choir developed my musical ear; the standard of excellence that comes from the numerous singers and musicians in my family; and the poise and elegance of my late grandmother’s piano playing are just a few of the aspects that have shaped me into the musician I am today. I have also been inspired each day by my peers, so I owe my development in music to the high-level musicians who are close to me in age. The exceptional education I’ve received thus far in my musical journey has also propelled me forward. I took my first few trumpet lessons from my uncle at age 7 and in the 3rd grade began taking lessons with my current teacher, Veselin Bozhilov. In combination with my training at Bak Middle School of the Arts and Dreyfoos School of the Arts, my education and mentors have been invaluable to me. I realize the importance of having a mentor within the craft of music and one on one guidance is how I learn best. Having a mentor, and access to master classes, concerts, and workshops through the college mentorship program with the New World Symphony has further supplemented my thirst for knowledge. Additionally, I was very grateful for resources that my elementary music teacher encouraged me to apply for. In elementary school, I earned the Legacy Foundation scholarship from the Palm Beach Pops to buy my own trumpet. The remaining funds were used to begin my trumpet lessons, which have tremendously improved my technique. This helped me achieve my goal and aspiration to perform for many audiences. Over the years, I have learned that harmony mirrors life. I know that I cannot live my life waiting for the perfect cadence. My experiences thus far have taught me that I have to differentiate anxious ambition (which stems from selfishness) from peaceful ambition. Throughout each lesson and experience, I have gained the humility that will keep me open to learning from teachers, being inspired by and collaborating with my peers, and most importantly, seeking to serve the music instead of seeking to prove myself. Whether it is struggling with a challenging passage, finding difficulty balancing music in different performance ensembles, or reconciling with the mistakes I make along the way, music has provided me with the understanding that allows me to push past challenges by knowing that greatness is not marked by achievement, but by mastery over the process. I look forward to expanding this journey as I pursue further education in Classical Trumpet Performance at Manhattan School of Music this fall.

Wynton Marsalis’ idea that humility is a gateway to self-knowledge resonates with me. I have found humility by understanding that mastery is a process, not a destination. I have also discovered that collaboration is an important ingredient within the life process. My connection with humility and collaboration guided me during one of my most memorable musical experiences, my summer with NYO-USA. My self-knowledge did not come from a single performance or a musical event, but rather an understanding of my relationship with music and how it relates to the human experience. In western harmony, the I (one) chord symbolizes home. I’ve spent much of my time searching for this “arrival” and living with the discomfort of imperfection as I’ve grown. At one time, I never felt like I saw enough growth in my trumpet playing. Last summer, I had the opportunity to play in the National Youth Orchestra (NYO-USA), where, initially, I compared myself to other musicians. In my strive for versatility, I felt out of place as a jazz musician in classical settings, yet also as a classical musician in jazz settings. However, walking around Purchase College between rehearsals, I found a guiding comfort in listening to Michael Jackson’s “Human Nature,” and I wanted to know why: Jazz bassist Russell Hall encourages musicians to have a personal relationship with every note and chord, and it was through “Human Nature” that I truly uncovered this. “Human Nature” never truly resolves to its I chord. Rather than achieving its destination, the song remains at a saunter, with gentle harmonic motion centered around the IV chord. When the song feels like it's approaching a climax, Michael sings “I like living this way, I like loving this way,” hinting at an impending message about life; instead of a lyrical explanation, the track cuts to an instrumental break set to a ii-V cadence, which typically resolves with the I chord. Unexpectedly, the song returns to the IV chord and takes flight. The beauty of the song despite its lack of resolution led me to realize that music, nor life, is not about feeling complete. I learned that reaching my goals would not come from attempting to prove myself in one fell swoop, but from having the humility to recognize that prioritizing my growth matters more than rushing toward the “finish line.” Almost immediately, I turned from having anxiety before every rehearsal, to finding euphoria in every note I shared with my peers in NYO-USA. As my conductor at NYO, Gianandrea Noseda, echoed to me: music should “create a state of ecstasy, not a point of excitement.” Harmony mirrors life. I know that I cannot live my life waiting for the perfect cadence. My experience at NYO taught me that I will need to differentiate anxious ambition from the peaceful ambition that I discovered while in NYO-USA. Humility will keep me open to learning from teachers, being inspired by and collaborating with my peers, and most importantly, seeking to serve the music instead of seeking to prove myself. The beauty of the IV chord reminds me that mastery over your personal growth and education is a destination of its own. Whether it is struggling with a challenging passage, finding difficulty balancing music in different performance ensembles, or reconciling with the mistakes I make along the way, my new understanding will allow me to push past challenges by knowing that greatness is not marked by achievement, but by mastery over the process. I look forward to expanding this journey as I pursue further education in Classical Trumpet Performance.

Wynton Marsalis’ idea that humility is a gateway to self-knowledge resonates with me. I have found humility by understanding that mastery is a process, not a destination. My connection with humility guided me during one of my most memorable musical experiences, my summer with the National Youth Orchestra (NYO-USA). My self-knowledge did not come from a single performance or a musical event, but rather an understanding of my relationship with music and how it relates to human experience. In western harmony, the I (one) chord symbolizes home. I’ve spent much of my time searching for this “arrival” and living with the discomfort of imperfection as I’ve grown. In concerts, I’ve stepped onstage seeking to prove myself rather than serve the music, often causing anxiety and disappointment. Although my immense passion has led to big accomplishments, my constant reach for ‘completion’ has held me back many times. During my experience with the 2025 National Youth Orchestra, I initially compared myself to other musicians. In my strive for versatility, I felt out of place as a jazz musician in classical settings, yet also as a classical musician in jazz settings. However, walking around Purchase College between rehearsals, I found a guiding comfort in listening to Michael Jackson’s “Human Nature,” and I wanted to know why. Jazz bassist Russell Hall encourages musicians to have a personal relationship with every note and chord, and it was through “Human Nature” that I truly uncovered this. “Human Nature” never truly resolves to its I chord. Rather than achieving its destination, the song remains at a saunter, with gentle harmonic motion centered around the IV chord. When the song feels like it's approaching a climax, Michael sings “I like living this way, I like loving this way,” hinting at an impending message about life; instead of a lyrical explanation, the track cuts to an instrumental break set to a ii-V cadence, which typically resolves with the I chord. Unexpectedly, the song returns to the IV chord and takes flight. The beauty of the song despite its lack of resolution led me to realize that music, nor life, is not about feeling complete. I learned that reaching my goals won't come from attempting to prove myself, but from having the humility to recognize that prioritizing my growth matters more than rushing toward the “finish line.” Almost immediately, I turned from having anxiety before every rehearsal, to finding euphoria in every note I shared with my peers in NYO-USA. As my conductor at NYO, Gianandrea Noseda, echoed to me: music should “create a state of ecstasy, not a point of excitement.” “Human Nature” embodies that philosophy by highlighting the journey to excellence, not the arrival point. Harmony mirrors life. I know that I cannot live my life waiting for the perfect cadence. In a collegiate setting where I am surrounded by excellence, humility will keep me open to learning from teachers, being inspired by and collaborating with my peers, and most importantly, seeking to serve the music instead of seeking to prove myself. The beauty of the IV chord reminds me that mastery over your personal growth and education is a destination of its own. Whether it is struggling with a challenging passage, finding difficulty balancing music in different performance ensembles, or reconciling with the mistakes I make along the way, my new understanding will allow me to push past challenges by knowing that greatness is not marked by achievement, but by mastery over the process. I look forward to expanding this journey as I pursue further education in Trumpet Performance.

Wynton Marsalis’ idea that humility is a gateway to self-knowledge resonates with me. I have found humility by understanding that mastery is a process, not a destination. My connection with humility guided me during one of my most memorable musical experiences, my summer with the National Youth Orchestra (NYO-USA). My self-knowledge did not come from a single performance or a musical event, but rather an understanding of my relationship with music and how it relates to human experience. In western harmony, the I (one) chord symbolizes home. I’ve spent much of my time searching for this “arrival” and living with the discomfort of imperfection as I’ve grown. In concerts, I’ve stepped onstage seeking to prove myself rather than serve the music, often causing anxiety and disappointment. Although my immense passion has led to big accomplishments, my constant reach for ‘completion’ has held me back many times. During my experience with the 2025 National Youth Orchestra, I initially compared myself to other musicians. In my strive for versatility, I felt out of place as a jazz musician in classical settings, yet also as a classical musician in jazz settings. However, walking around Purchase College between rehearsals, I found a guiding comfort in listening to Michael Jackson’s “Human Nature,” and I wanted to know why. Jazz bassist Russell Hall encourages musicians to have a personal relationship with every note and chord, and it was through “Human Nature” that I truly uncovered this. “Human Nature” never truly resolves to its I chord. Rather than achieving its destination, the song remains at a saunter, with gentle harmonic motion centered around the IV chord. When the song feels like it's approaching a climax, Michael sings “I like living this way, I like loving this way,” hinting at an impending message about life; instead of a lyrical explanation, the track cuts to an instrumental break set to a ii-V cadence, which typically resolves with the I chord. Unexpectedly, the song returns to the IV chord and takes flight. The beauty of the song despite its lack of resolution led me to realize that music, nor life, is not about feeling complete. I learned that reaching my goals won't come from attempting to prove myself, but from having the humility to recognize that prioritizing my growth matters more than rushing toward the “finish line.” Almost immediately, I turned from having anxiety before every rehearsal, to finding euphoria in every note I shared with my peers in NYO-USA. As my conductor at NYO, Gianandrea Noseda, echoed to me: music should “create a state of ecstasy, not a point of excitement.” “Human Nature” embodies that philosophy by highlighting the journey to excellence, not the arrival point. Harmony mirrors life. I know that I cannot live my life waiting for the perfect cadence. In a collegiate setting where I am surrounded by excellence, humility will keep me open to learning from teachers, being inspired by and collaborating with my peers, and most importantly, seeking to serve the music instead of seeking to prove myself. The beauty of the IV chord reminds me that mastery over your personal growth and education is a destination of its own. Whether it is struggling with a challenging passage, finding difficulty balancing music in different performance ensembles, or reconciling with the mistakes I make along the way, my new understanding will allow me to push past challenges by knowing that greatness is not marked by achievement, but by mastery over the process. I look forward to expanding this journey as I pursue further education in Trumpet Performance.