My “why” is simple: I want to tell stories that make people feel something—and I want to do it through sound. I’ve always been drawn to the emotional power of rhythm, texture, and tone. As a drummer and a student of sound design, I’ve seen how a single moment in music or a perfectly placed sound can shift the entire mood of a scene. That’s what keeps me going—the possibility of creating those moments for others. Growing up, I was always sketching out ideas for shows or movies in my head—characters, story arcs, visual themes—but sound was the part that stuck with me. I’d imagine how the opening theme would feel, or what kind of sonic atmosphere would bring the story to life. One of my long-term goals is to develop an animated series or a comic-based show with original sound design and scoring that pushes the boundary between music and narrative. I don’t just want to support the visuals—I want sound to drive the storytelling. With all the advancements in technology, it’s easy to see how tools like AI and digital automation could replace parts of the creative process. But I think the role of the artist becomes even more important in that space. Technology can generate content, but it can’t generate purpose. It can’t replicate the personal experiences, instincts, and connections that real creators bring to a project. That’s where I see my value—as someone who uses technology with intention, not in place of it. Person to person collaboration is the only way to bring the true vision to the forefront. In the future, I want to combine traditional percussion with digital sound design to create immersive, character-driven worlds. Whether that’s for TV, games, or multimedia performances, I want every project to carry a personal imprint—a rhythm that only I can bring. That’s my “why.” And I’m just getting started.

Arts education has shaped who I am—plain and simple. It gave me structure when I needed direction, challenged me when I got comfortable, and opened up a future I didn’t know was possible. Growing up, I didn’t see music as a career. I just liked the drums. But thanks to a few key people and opportunities, I started to see it as more than just a hobby. I started to see it as my path. It began with Gary Fiandra, my first drum instructor. He was the first person who took my interest seriously. He treated every lesson like it mattered, whether we were working on technique, trying out a new groove, or just talking about music. He never made things easy on me, but he always made it clear he believed in what I could do. His approach taught me discipline early on—not just how to play, but how to practice with purpose. He showed me that being a musician meant putting in the work when no one’s watching. I still hear his voice in my head sometimes when I sit down behind the kit. Another turning point came when I met Eli Yamin. He opened a completely new world for me—the world of jazz. Through his encouragement, I attended a jazz camp that completely shifted my thinking. For the first time, I saw people making a life out of music, not just doing it on the side. Watching how jazz musicians communicated with each other on stage, how much freedom and expression they had, made something click. That was the moment I stopped seeing music as just something I liked and started seeing it as something I could live. After that, I became involved with the Jazz Power Initiative and started performing in their monthly events. It was my first real experience being part of a regular performing group with high expectations. Every month meant new material, new collaborations, and a new opportunity to grow. It pushed me to stay sharp and stay open. It also gave me a community—people who understood what it meant to take music seriously, and who helped each other get better. Through all of this, arts education gave me more than technical skills. It gave me confidence. It taught me how to communicate, how to listen, and how to be part of something bigger than myself. It gave me mentors, peers, and goals. And it gave me a sense of identity that I carry with me today. I’m now a rising sophomore in the Music and Sound Design program at the University of New Haven, and every day I use the tools and lessons I picked up from those early experiences. Whether I’m collaborating with classmates, working on a new track, or performing live, I’m building on the foundation that was set by people like Gary Fiandra and Eli Yamin. Without them, I’m not sure I would’ve made it this far. But because of their influence, I’m not just playing music—I’m building a future with it.

In my experience, collaboration in music and sound design is both rewarding and unpredictable—kind of like herding cats, especially when the group involves high schoolers. As a rising sophomore in the Music and Sound Design program at the University of New Haven, I’ve already learned that collaboration isn’t always clean or smooth, but that’s often where the best creative outcomes come from. It means learning how to work with different personalities, adapting on the fly, and knowing when to lead and when to step back. Before coming to college, I played with several different bands—each one totally different in energy, skill level, and communication style. Rehearsals could be chaotic. People would show up late, forget parts, or change things last minute. But even with the frustration, those moments taught me the value of patience, compromise, and listening. One band in particular had a mix of older and younger students, and I often ended up being the middle person—translating ideas between people who weren’t always on the same page. It forced me to be more intentional with how I communicated and to really consider what each person was trying to contribute. At the University of New Haven, that early experience has helped me work more effectively in group settings. During my first year, I worked on projects that involved scoring short scenes, mixing for live events, and experimenting with sound textures alongside classmates. What stood out to me was how collaboration in this environment felt more focused—people were more invested, and there was a clear shared goal. But even then, no project came without challenges. There were disagreements on direction, or technical issues we hadn’t planned for. Still, we worked through them, and I always came out of those projects having learned something—not just about the technical side of things, but about people. What I’ve come to understand is that collaboration isn’t just about dividing up tasks. It’s about bringing together different perspectives and being open to change. In music and sound design, it’s rarely a straight path from idea to final product. You might think you have the perfect sound or arrangement, only to realize someone else’s suggestion makes it better. When it works, collaboration feels like a conversation where everyone is speaking the same language, even if they’re using different words. Looking ahead, I know collaboration will continue to be a huge part of my education and career. I’m excited about future projects that will push me to work with composers, filmmakers, engineers, and performers. I want to be part of teams that try new things, make mistakes, and figure it out together. I also hope to help create the kind of supportive environment I’ve come to appreciate—where people feel comfortable bringing their ideas to the table and challenging each other in productive ways. Pam Branchini’s connection to the arts through relationships really resonates with me. For me, the best performances and projects have always come from the time spent building trust—whether in a garage band full of high schoolers or a university sound lab. I’m grateful for what I’ve learned so far and excited to keep growing through every jam session, sound check, and late-night editing session to come.

From the first moment I picked up a pair of drumsticks, I knew music would shape my life. The rhythm and pulse of the beat became more than just sound—it became a way to express what words often cannot. Now, as a rising sophomore studying music and sound design engineering, I aim to use music as a tool for healing. I hope to become both a professional drummer and a music therapist, helping individuals—children facing trauma, veterans coping with PTSD, and others struggling with mental health—through therapeutic music programs. This scholarship would bring me one step closer to achieving my goal of graduating and making a meaningful impact. My path to this career has been shaped by service. Growing up in Bridgewater, I volunteered with the Bridgewater Volunteer Fire Department. That experience taught me discipline, teamwork, and the importance of supporting others in times of crisis. It deepened my commitment to community care and reinforced my belief in innovative, compassionate approaches to helping those in need. In high school, I spoke at an anti-bullying campaign, promoting resilience and kindness. I also led sewing workshops that taught students how to mend and repurpose clothing—small efforts aimed at empowering others and promoting sustainability. Despite the range of my interests, music has always been central to who I am. I see rhythm as a universal language that transcends barriers and brings people together. As a drummer, I’ve learned that percussion is more than keeping time—it’s about creating energy and connection. I want to channel this into music therapy, using structured sound and rhythm to support emotional and physical healing. Research shows that music therapy can reduce anxiety, aid in rehabilitation, and improve cognitive function. I plan to work in hospitals, rehab centers, and community spaces to offer therapeutic drumming sessions and sound-based interventions tailored to individual needs. To prepare for this, I’m pursuing a degree that blends sound design and music performance. Understanding both the technical and artistic sides of sound will help me build effective, immersive experiences for therapy. With advancements in virtual reality and biofeedback, I hope to develop custom soundscapes for healing—tools that support recovery through targeted, immersive engagement. This scholarship would help me focus on my studies and participate in training programs critical to my development. Music therapy demands not only musical skill, but also knowledge in psychology, neurology, and technology. Financial support would allow me to access workshops, internships, and instruments essential for my education and future practice. Beyond school, I hope to create a nonprofit offering free music therapy services to underserved communities. Many people, especially in marginalized groups, lack access to mental health resources. Through my organization, I’d offer group drumming, individual sound therapy, and community workshops. I also want to mentor young musicians—especially women and girls—who may face barriers entering the field. Ultimately, I aim to make music therapy a recognized and accessible part of healthcare and education. With support from this scholarship, I’ll gain the skills and experience needed to advocate for that vision and provide lasting, meaningful help to others.

Music has been more than a hobby for me—it’s been a source of strength, confidence, friendship, and purpose. From the first time I picked up a pair of drumsticks, I knew I had found something that would shape my life in more ways than I could have expected. Before I became a drummer, school was tough. I was bullied and felt like I had no outlet. Learning to play the drums changed that. It gave me a focus and a sense of power that I didn’t have before. As I got better, my confidence grew. I stopped feeling like I had to shrink myself to stay out of the way. I started to stand taller, speak louder, and feel proud of who I was and what I could do. I got interested in heavy metal and hard rock drums and when we all reconvened at school, my classmates didn't recognize me. I was transformed. When the pandemic hit, everything got quiet—schools shut down, events were canceled, and we were all stuck at home. But music kept going. I met a group of friends who shared my passion, and together we kept playing. The School of Rock in Ridgefield was a great place for me to meet them. That group gave me connection during a time when it was easy to feel isolated. It reminded me that even when the world feels uncertain, music can create something steady. Eventually, I wanted to do more than just play. I started organizing public performances in my towns of Brookfield and Bridgewater. Putting together events meant reaching out to local officials, securing permits, working out schedules, and making sure everything ran smoothly. These weren’t skills I expected to build through music, but I’m glad I did. They’ve helped me become more organized and more comfortable taking on leadership roles. It showed me that music can have a place in the community, not just on stage. One of the biggest things music has taught me is that it can be a form of giving back. The way it helped me through hard times made me start looking into music therapy. I’ve seen how music can calm anxiety, improve focus, and lift spirits. Now I’m exploring how I can use my love for music to help others the way it helped me. Whether that means working with children, people with disabilities, or patients in hospitals, I want to make music a tool for healing. Music changed the way I see myself and the world around me. It helped me find my voice, form real friendships, build practical skills, and discover a path where I can give back. I’m proud of how far I’ve come, and I’m excited to keep going—wherever music leads me next.

Classic literature has always offered more than just stories—it gives a deeper understanding of people, choices, and what it means to live with purpose. Two books that have stayed with me are To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee and The Odyssey by Homer. Though very different in time and place, both helped shape how I think about the world and the kind of person I want to become. To Kill a Mockingbird taught me the importance of standing up for what’s right, even when it’s difficult. Atticus Finch’s quiet strength and moral clarity had a big impact on me. He didn’t raise his voice or try to please everyone—he just did what he believed was fair, even when most of his town disagreed. As someone who’s dealt with bullying, I found his example especially powerful. It reminded me that doing the right thing isn’t always popular, but it’s still worth doing. That lesson gave me confidence to stay true to myself and to support others when they need it, even if I’m the only one doing it. I was asked to be a keynote speaker in an anti bullying program my senior year of high school, and after my talk, we opened the microphone up to anybody who had a story to tell. We were amazed when the line wrapped all around the auditorium. So many students had something to say about being bullied or feeling marginalized. The Odyssey showed me the value of perseverance and the importance of home. Odysseus’s journey is long and full of setbacks, but he never loses sight of where he’s trying to go. I’ve carried that mindset into my own life—especially during hard times like the COVID-19 pandemic, when everything felt uncertain. Music became my anchor, and my goals around it kept me moving forward, even when I felt isolated. Like Odysseus, I’ve learned that reaching a goal takes time, resilience, and a willingness to adapt. These books also helped me realize that everyone has a story worth understanding, and that empathy is a skill worth building. Whether it’s through literature or music, I’ve come to value the power of expression and connection. That’s one of the reasons I’ve become interested in music therapy. Just like classic stories can open people’s minds and hearts, I’ve seen how music can do the same. In short, the classics have shaped how I think about leadership, persistence, and purpose. They’ve made me more thoughtful about the kind of work I want to do—work that helps others and stays true to my values. I plan to keep learning from literature and using those lessons to guide me as I move forward.

Music has been more than a hobby for me—it’s been a source of strength, confidence, friendship, and purpose. From the first time I picked up a pair of drumsticks, I knew I had found something that would shape my life in more ways than I could have expected. Before I became a drummer, school was tough. I was bullied and felt like I had no outlet. Learning to play hard rock drums changed that. It gave me a focus and a sense of power that I didn’t have before. As I got better, my confidence grew. I stopped feeling like I had to shrink myself to stay out of the way. I started to stand taller, speak louder, and feel proud of who I was and what I could do. When the pandemic hit, everything got quiet—schools shut down, events were canceled, and we were all stuck at home. But music kept going. I met a group of friends who shared my passion, and together we kept playing, even if it was over Zoom or in someone’s backyard from six feet apart. That group gave me connection during a time when it was easy to feel isolated. It reminded me that even when the world feels uncertain, music can create something steady. Eventually, I wanted to do more than just play. I started organizing public performances in my towns of Brookfield and Bridgewater. Putting together events meant reaching out to local officials, securing permits, working out schedules, and making sure everything ran smoothly. These weren’t skills I expected to build through music, but I’m glad I did. They’ve helped me become more organized and more comfortable taking on leadership roles. It showed me that music can have a place in the community, not just on stage. One of the biggest things music has taught me is that it can be a form of giving back. The way it helped me through hard times made me start looking into music therapy. I’ve seen how music can calm anxiety, improve focus, and lift spirits. Now I’m exploring how I can use my love for music to help others the way it helped me. Whether that means working with children, people with disabilities, or patients in hospitals, I want to make music a tool for healing. Music changed the way I see myself and the world around me. It helped me find my voice, form real friendships, build practical skills, and discover a path where I can give back. I’m proud of how far I’ve come, and I’m excited to keep going—wherever music leads me next.

For as long as I can remember, my grandmother has been a central figure in my life. As she grew older and needed more support, my role shifted from simply spending time with her to becoming one of her primary caregivers. At first, that meant helping with daily tasks around the house—cleaning, cooking, and running small errands. As I got older and more capable, the responsibilities expanded. I started accompanying her to the grocery store and managing heavier chores that had become difficult for her to do on her own. Once I got my driver’s license, I was able to take her to doctor’s appointments, which gave me a new level of responsibility and insight into the realities of aging. Caregiving became part of my everyday life. It wasn’t something I planned for or thought of as unusual—it was just what needed to be done. Over time, though, I began to understand just how important this role was, not just for her well-being, but for mine as well. Spending this time with my grandmother gave me a deeper appreciation for how vital human connection is, especially in later years. No one should feel isolated or forgotten as they grow older, yet I saw firsthand how easy it is for that to happen. This experience has had a significant impact on the person I’m becoming. As a college freshman studying music, I originally focused on performing and composing. But caregiving opened my eyes to something more. I began exploring music therapy and discovered how powerful music can be as a tool for healing and connection. I’ve met people through my grandmother’s community—neighbors, aides, medical staff—and these interactions have deepened my understanding of how important it is to bridge gaps between generations. It has inspired me to consider not just a career in music, but a path that allows me to give back. I now plan to pursue music therapy as a way to use what I love to support others, especially those who might be alone or in need of comfort. Receiving this scholarship would make a significant difference in my life. Financially, college is a heavy burden on my family, and I also want to be present for my grandmother as she approaches the final years of her life. Right now, I’m balancing school, work, and caregiving, which can be overwhelming. This scholarship would ease that financial pressure and give me the ability to focus more on my education and on being there for her without sacrificing either. It would also help me continue my studies in music therapy, allowing me to prepare for a future where I can use my education and personal experiences to help others. Caregiving has taught me that support isn’t just about tasks—it’s about presence, empathy, and commitment. I want to carry those lessons with me throughout my life, both personally and professionally. This scholarship represents more than financial support—it represents the opportunity to honor the values I’ve learned through caregiving and to turn them into something meaningful for others.

From the first moment I picked up a pair of drumsticks, I knew music would shape my life. The rhythm, the vibrations, the pulse of the beat—it was more than just sound; it was a form of communication, a way to express emotions that words sometimes fail to convey. Now, as a rising sophomore pursuing a degree in music and sound design engineering, my dream is to use music as a tool for healing. I aspire to become a professional drummer and music therapist, using my skills to help those in need—whether it be children facing trauma, veterans coping with PTSD, or individuals struggling with mental health challenges. With this scholarship, I will be one step closer to achieving my goal of graduating and making a meaningful impact in the world. My journey to this career path has been shaped by my experiences and the values instilled in me through volunteer work. Growing up in Bridgewater, I spent much of my time serving my community as a volunteer with the Bridgewater Volunteer Fire Department. This experience taught me discipline, teamwork, and the importance of giving back. Responding to emergencies and supporting those in distress reinforced my belief in the power of community and the need for compassionate, innovative solutions to help others. This passion for service extended beyond the fire department. In high school, I was honored to be a keynote speaker at an anti-bullying campaign, advocating for kindness, understanding, and resilience. I also led sewing workshops for students, teaching them how to mend and repurpose their clothing to promote sustainability—a small yet impactful way to empower others to create change. Music, however, has always been at the core of my identity. I see rhythm as a universal language, one that transcends barriers and connects people on a fundamental level. As a drummer, I have learned that percussion is not just about keeping time; it is about creating energy, setting the mood, and bringing people together. I want to take this passion a step further by integrating music into therapy programs for those in need. Studies have shown that music therapy can reduce anxiety, improve cognitive function, and even aid in physical rehabilitation. My goal is to work in hospitals, rehabilitation centers, and community programs to provide therapeutic drumming sessions and sound design interventions that help individuals heal and reconnect with themselves. To achieve this, I am pursuing a degree that combines the technical aspects of sound design with the artistic expression of music performance. The field of sound engineering is vast, and by mastering audio technology, I can develop innovative therapeutic approaches that utilize sound frequencies and immersive music experiences to support mental and emotional well-being. With advancements in virtual reality and biofeedback, I envision creating soundscapes tailored to individual healing processes, allowing patients to engage in a fully immersive musical journey that promotes relaxation and recovery. This scholarship would play a crucial role in my academic and professional journey. Financial support would allow me to focus on my studies and participate in specialized training programs that are essential for my development. Music therapy requires not only musical proficiency but also extensive knowledge of psychology, neurology, and sound engineering. By receiving this scholarship, I would be able to access workshops, internships, and research opportunities that would enhance my ability to serve others effectively. Additionally, the financial relief would enable me to invest in quality instruments and technology necessary for my studies and future work. Beyond academics, this scholarship would empower me to continue giving back to the community. One of my long-term goals is to establish a nonprofit organization dedicated to providing free and accessible music therapy programs for underserved communities. Many individuals, especially those in marginalized groups, do not have access to the mental health support they need. Through my nonprofit, I want to create spaces where people can experience the healing power of music, whether through group drumming circles, personalized sound therapy sessions, or community music workshops. Additionally, I hope to mentor young musicians, especially women and girls, who aspire to enter the music industry but face barriers due to financial constraints or lack of representation. In the future, I also plan to advocate for music therapy as an integral part of healthcare and education. Too often, music is seen as an extracurricular activity rather than a legitimate tool for healing and learning. By collaborating with educators, therapists, and healthcare professionals, I aim to integrate music therapy programs into schools and hospitals, ensuring that more people benefit from its transformative effects. Receiving this scholarship would be more than just financial assistance—it would be a validation of my mission and a stepping stone toward achieving my aspirations. It would allow me to dedicate myself fully to my education and training, ensuring that I graduate with the knowledge, skills, and resources necessary to make a meaningful impact. The road ahead is challenging, but with this support, I am confident that I can turn my dreams into reality. In conclusion, my goal is to harness the power of music to heal, uplift, and transform lives. Whether through drumming, sound design, or therapeutic programs, I want to create a world where music is recognized not only as an art form but as a vital force for emotional and psychological well-being. This scholarship would be instrumental in helping me achieve my vision, allowing me to complete my education and embark on a career dedicated to making a difference. I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to apply and hope to use this support to bring music’s healing power to those who need it most.

My greatest achievement to date has been overcoming the challenges I faced with inclusion, bullying, and my own identity struggles during middle school. These experiences taught me invaluable lessons about resilience, self-advocacy, and the importance of accepting who I am. Throughout middle school, I was often excluded due to my speech impediment, which led to teasing and bullying. To make matters more difficult, I was also coming to terms with my bisexuality, which I knew would be another hurdle for some of my peers. The combination of these challenges made me feel isolated, and I began to question whether I belonged anywhere. After a particularly rough year, I made the decision to leave traditional schooling and become a homeschooled student. I wanted to break free from the social constraints and focus more on what I loved: music. During this time, I explored various educational avenues, particularly those related to music, which became a source of solace and growth. I developed a deeper connection to my craft, and it helped me regain confidence and clarity. A year and a half later, when I returned to high school, I was a completely different person—someone who had grown, healed, and found a sense of self. In recognition of my personal journey, I was invited to be a keynote speaker at our school’s anti-bullying program. I shared my experiences of being excluded and bullied, and how I learned to embrace my true self. After I spoke, we opened the microphones up to the student body, and a line of students wrapped around the auditorium, each sharing their own stories of struggle and resilience. It was an incredibly moving moment, and it reinforced the importance of creating a space where everyone’s voice is heard and valued. I then became an advocate for other students who struggled with fitting in, offering support to those who were being excluded, just as I had been. I helped them find their voice and encouraged them to embrace who they are, without fear of judgment. This experience taught me how important it is to support others and stand up for those who need it. It also taught me that I am incredibly resilient and capable of overcoming adversity when I stay true to myself. Looking toward the future, I plan to pursue a career in music, with a minor in music therapy. I’ve seen firsthand how music can be a healing force, and I want to use my skills to help others, especially those who are facing emotional or social challenges like I once did. Music has been my source of strength, and I hope to be able to offer that same strength to others.

The first time I visited Harlem with my mother, it was an assault on the senses. The air smelled of food carts and city life, and the streets hummed with energy. Our destination was the National Jazz Museum, where I would be playing alongside seasoned musicians as part of the Jazz Power Initiative's Intergenerational Jazz Power Jam. At just 14, I was given the chance to choose a Charlie Parker song to learn and perform with the group. I picked “Now’s the Time.” As I sat behind the drum kit, I had to tamp down the butterflies in my stomach so I could lock in with the band members. Those were the longest three minutes and fourteen seconds of my life. It went well—maybe with a hiccup or two—but I got through it. The director of the program, Eli Yamin, couldn't have been more encouraging and helpful. That experience made me realize that my dream of becoming a professional drummer could—and will—become a reality. I started playing drums when I was 10, taking private lessons for years to build my foundation. Eventually, I joined School of Rock in Ridgefield, CT, where I earned a spot in their elite traveling band. Playing with musicians of different backgrounds and styles challenged me to adapt and grow. Jazz, rock, funk, hard rock, and heavy metal—each genre taught me something new about rhythm, dynamics, and collaboration. In high school, I competed in several "Battle of the Bands," sharpening my skills each time. I quickly learned that being a good musician was only half the battle—the real challenge was surviving band dynamics. It took every ounce of emotional intelligence in my brain to keep things together. Getting four or five musicians to agree on a setlist felt like negotiating a peace treaty. Syncing schedules? Nearly impossible. And actually getting everyone to show up for practice? A miracle. Honestly, the fact that we ever made it to the stage was the real victory! After graduation, I plan to pursue a career in music production while also leading a band of my own. Producing music will allow me to shape soundscapes and help other artists bring their visions to life. At the same time, I want to continue performing, bringing together like-minded musicians to create something meaningful. Music has given me direction, discipline, and a deep appreciation for storytelling through sound. No matter where this path takes me, I know I’ll always be behind the kit—driving the beat forward.