It was an ordinary day in second grade: the usual morning busy work, reading circle before noon, laugher at lunch. Everything was as it should have been... Clickity-clack-clack. The heels of my principal entered the classroom cooly. She smiled sweetly, but the cold clipboard in her hand indicated that she was here to critique, not to commend. Instantly, my heart rate increased. I was evidently under review, and I needed to make a good impression. Warily, I grabbed the tray with the cups of water (for the science experiment we were working on at the time) and brought them back to my table group. However, before I was able to set the tray down, my classmates lunged for the cups, their flimsy fingers flying forward- "Ehh!-" the cold rebuke escaped my lips before I even had the time to process my own transition from a friendly seven-year-old into an inpatient dog owner, ordering the dog to drop a piece of trash. The room went silent, as the hurtfulness of my hypocrisy hung in the air. In my rush to make my classmates patient so that I could exude perfection, I had ironically become impatient myself. My teacher was not impressed. My principal was not impressed. My classmates were disappointed, and I was ashamed. I had let my impatience with my friend's behavior take control over my own behavior, and my impatience caused me to become the very thing that I was despised in them. Since then, I value patience. My friends hadn't done anything wrong by reaching for the cups- it was my impatience with their actions, which differed from my expectations, that made me mad. Now, I value being patient, because it makes us kind. Patience is grace, it's love, and it's the decency that we owe each other.

I composed the song "Learn" at the beginning of quarantine when the world felt chaotic. I felt discouraged. I sat in the living room, wondering how I could get through this turbulent time and still achieve all I had planned for high school. A glance around the living room showed me that my family was feeling the same way. They were discouraged, lost, and feeling weak. I wrote the song as a conversation to them, a reminder that they were capable of more than they thought at the current moment. Music is an art form that inspires. It serves as a bridge between troubled souls, connecting people regardless of their situation or inability to communicate otherwise. I aspire to be a person who uses multiple art forms, including music, to encourage people around me. The other day, I offered a friend a piece of advice and a kind word, and he praised me for it. I responded, "No, I'm not great. I'm just reminding your busy brain of what it has forgotten." So often in life, we become too busy to remember how strong, capable, and loved we are. We need the reminder, and I want to be that reminder for those closest to me, and ultimately the world through my art. With this song, I hope to remind people that they can achieve infinitely more than they perceive because everyone deserves the ability to see their potential and break themselves from the bondage of their self-doubt.