Music is a significant part of everyone’s life, whether we realize it or not. It is an art with the potential to change or save the life of a person regardless of age, gender, ethnicity, or background. It affects all of us, aiding in our development, impacting our emotions, bringing us together, and so much more. The continuation and evolution of the art means the further progression of me and so many others as people. These are some reasons why I am tremendously thankful to have been given the gift of musical talent. Without the blessings of this talent and all that went into my realization and pursuit of it, I would not be the person I am today. From childhood, singing has given me a means for discovering new opportunities, accessing new ideas, expressing my identity and my story, and supporting myself and others emotionally. Singing has led me to places I never thought I would be, like Times Square, and working with a successful composer. It has allowed me to meet and spend time with amazing people who changed my life without even knowing. Singing is my support system; it connects me with my emotions and with people who are as passionate, or as emotional, as I am, and can disconnect me from the stress of reality for moments at a time. It presents to me new ideas that serve to make me a more open-minded, understanding and accepting person. The diversity and changeability of music allows me to make it my own so I can express myself through my craft. By singing for my classmates, the public, and my church, I grow continuously closer to the people around me, my community, and my God. I have absolutely no idea where I would be if I did not possess this talent, but because I do have it, I know where I want it to take me. Singing has done so much for me and will only continue to do so, and I know plenty of other people who would say the same. It could do the same for anyone. Therefore, the art must be passed on, and I want to help with that. Because of my talent, I have made singing my life’s goal, not only for me but for all the people it can touch. As an aspiring music teacher, my intention is to give to the next generations the joy, freedom, and opportunity that music has given me, and I intend to do so via the art of teaching. Music and singing are things I love so much. I want to keep them in my life as long as I can, but I refuse to keep them to myself. I want to use my talent to make other people’s lives better. I will not be satisfied until I can leave this life knowing I have used my talent to aid in making sure that the world and people I am leaving behind will be made continually better by music. Hopefully one day at least one person will think of me and decide they want the same thing.

I want to be the person that I needed when I was a kid. So many kids nowadays lack a mentor. They have no one to look up to and no one to nurture them, or they might have that person in their family or among their friends but not in an educational setting. As someone who grew up for a good while without a person to really look up to and receive support from, I know what this feels like. I know it makes you feel like you are alone in the world, like there is no help for you and no one who believes in you. It feels hopeless. Once I finally found my person, who happened to be my chorus teacher, my life was changed for the better. Her never ending support and constant belief in me fostered so much confidence, happiness, and overall growth within me. Without her I would have considerably less of a hope of achieving my musical goals, especially not as soon as I would like to. Since I found my person, more opportunities have opened up for me than ever before and I can tell that many of them are directly due to her influence. If I had had that person earlier, who knows where I would be? I would certainly be even further in my development, both musically and otherwise, and I would have been much happier growing up. Thus, since I will soon be in a position to be that person to any number of kids just like me, I want to make the most of it. I want to use what platform I have to make people’s lives brighter, easier, better in any way that I am able. All someone may need is one person to believe in them and offer them real support, and many people who need someone may never find them. This scholarship could help me pay for college expenses including musical equipment, books, etc. that will help me toward my music degree, and therefore toward my art and career goals. I refuse to stand by and watch someone I could possibly reach fall into the hole of discouragement that I and so many others have fallen into. I know what it feels like, so, as a teacher, I want to give to anyone I possibly can what I needed--what I wish I had--when I was like them. Maybe, just maybe, I can make someone else want to give back in the same way.

I want to be the person that I needed when I was a kid. So many kids nowadays lack a mentor. They have no one to look up to and no one to nurture them, or they might have that person in their family or among their friends but not in an educational setting. As someone who grew up for a good while without a person to really look up to and receive support from, I know what this feels like. I know it makes you feel like you are alone in the world, like there is no help for you and no one who believes in you. It feels hopeless. Once I finally found my person, who happened to be my chorus teacher, my life was changed for the better. Her never ending support and constant belief in me fostered so much confidence, happiness, and overall growth within me. Without her I would have considerably less of a hope of achieving my musical goals, especially not as soon as I would like to. Since I found my person, more opportunities have opened up for me than ever before and I can tell that many of them are directly due to her influence. If I had had that person earlier, who knows where I would be? I would certainly be even further in my development, both musically and otherwise, and I would have been much happier growing up. Thus, since I will soon be in a position to be that person to any number of kids just like me, I want to make the most of it. I want to use what platform I have to make people’s lives brighter, easier, better in any way that I am able. All someone may need is one person to believe in them and offer them real support, and many people who need someone may never find them. I refuse to stand by and watch someone I could possibly reach fall into the hole of discouragement that I and so many others have fallen into. I know what it feels like, so, as a teacher, I want to give to anyone I possibly can what I needed--what I wish I had--when I was like them. Maybe, just maybe, I can make someone else want to give back in the same way.

It was Wednesday afternoon in chorus class, and we did not sing. We were made to sit down and watch the new teacher click through dress styles, and then sent out of the classroom with sheets of essay questions. We filed out of the room, and instantly erupted into angry whispers. We never had to answer essay questions with the old teacher. Was she determined to change everything we had built for this program? She was a tyrant, we decided, and we were not going to stand for it. For the rest of the week, we made it known, everywhere, how we felt about her. We even lost a member in the process. I, especially, threw a fit; I told everyone I knew about how she made us get rid of our old dresses, and made us talk about our feelings, and made us sit through boring discussions, and all the other injustices she subjected us to without remorse and without apology. The school’s general negative opinion of her was enhanced through my words and those of others, and, eventually, she heard. She pulled me aside in class one day and asked me what she had done. She listened to me while I explained to her exactly what had made me angry. Then, she apologized: for making a wrong impression, for doing things to make me upset. She apologized for everything, after I had already told everyone how horrible and heartless she was. After I had decided in my heart that I would never accept her. I was conflicted; on one hand, she had proved herself to be a better person than I had judged her to be. On the other hand, though, I had already made up my mind, and what kind of person would I be if I did not keep my word about not liking her? I was confused, but I could not ignore the truth: I was wrong. I had assumed before I tried to know her, and I was wrong. I apologized to her, and she shooed me away with the assurance that there were no hard feelings. From then on, I tried my best to trust her and to play my part in achieving her plan for the program. Flash-forward and it is the last concert of the year. The audience holds more people than it ever has before. As I sing, holding hands with two of my best friends, I watch my favorite teacher conduct with joy and enthusiasm. All of her work, including our more-than-rough start, has led to this beautiful, tearful moment. She has built a community almost overnight; she has turned the program and its members around for the better, and to think we were ready to give up on her in the first week. Watching the person I once blamed for everything wrong in our program taught me how to grow from my mistakes rather than letting them define me. Learning from the person I once underestimated showed me how to take charge and take risks for the betterment of myself and others, regardless of others’ opinions. Working with the person I swore I would never think well of gifted me with a new friend and confidant, and a new understanding of why one must truly never judge a book by its cover.

When I was in fourth grade I moved to a new town, which meant going to a new school and, unfortunately for shy little me, making new friends. Thankfully, I was able to find a few friends outside of my classes, but inside my classes I was quite alone. Everyone already had their cliques; I was an outsider. So, besides the occasional bully, most people chose to ignore me. In this, at least, I was not alone. There was another kid who never seemed to be with a friend. He did not talk much besides to snap back at bullies, and I remember vividly how he would highlight his reading assignments with black marker. I quickly learned that his name was Ian, and that he was the only Muslim in our grade. I did not see why this was so important, but other people seemed to, and they made fun of him for it. I figured this kid and I were in a similar boat, so it might not hurt to talk to him. I offered for him to sit with me at lunch one day and we talked. I asked him about his religion, his family, whatever came to mind, and he answered most of the questions. When lunch was over I told my friend some things I had learned and she looked at me like I was crazy. "Why did you talk to him and not us?" Well, I thought he was important, too, and I told her so: "Doesn't anyone care about Ian's feelings?" She assured me she did not. From that point forward I decided that even if only I cared, I would make the best of it. I sat and talked with Ian at lunch whenever he would have me. I chose him as a partner in class when we had no one else, and our papers--now highlighted with green--were some of the best teamwork we had ever been able to put forward. We thought so, anyway. We were not the best of friends, but we had each other's backs. Spending time with him affirmed in my mind that no matter how different we all may seem, we are all quite the same; wanting and deserving of friendship. Looking back, I am thankful that Ian and I crossed paths, and I am glad it was he who taught me that lesson.

I want to be the person that I needed when I was a kid. So many kids nowadays lack a mentor. They have no one to look up to and no one to nurture them, or they might have that person in their family or among their friends but not in an educational setting. As someone who grew up for a good while without a person to really look up to and receive support from, I know what this feels like. I know it makes you feel like you are alone in the world, like there is no help for you and no one who believes in you. It feels hopeless. Once I finally found my person, who happened to be my chorus teacher, my life was changed for the better. Her never ending support and constant belief in me fostered so much confidence, happiness, and overall growth within me. Without her I would have considerably less of a hope of achieving my musical goals, especially not as soon as I would like to. Since I found my person, more opportunities have opened up for me than ever before and I can tell that many of them are directly due to her influence. If I had had that person earlier, who knows where I would be? I would certainly be even further in my development, both musically and otherwise, and I would have been much happier growing up. Thus, since I will soon be in a position to be that person to any number of kids just like me, I want to make the most of it. I want to use what platform I have to make people’s lives brighter, easier, better in any way that I am able. All someone may need is one person to believe in them and offer them real support, and many people who need someone may never find them. This scholarship could help me pay for college expenses including musical equipment, books, etc. that will help me toward my music degree, and therefore toward my art and career goals. I refuse to stand by and watch someone I could possibly reach fall into the hole of discouragement that I and so many others have fallen into. I know what it feels like, so, as a teacher, I want to give to anyone I possibly can what I needed--what I wish I had--when I was like them. Maybe, just maybe, I can make someone else want to give back in the same way.

I want to be the person that I needed when I was a kid. So many kids nowadays lack a mentor. They have no one to look up to and no one to nurture them, or they might have that person in their family or among their friends but not in an educational setting. As someone who grew up for a good while without a person to really look up to and receive support from, I know what this feels like. I know it makes you feel like you are alone in the world, like there is no help for you and no one who believes in you. It feels hopeless. Once I finally found my person, who happened to be my chorus teacher, my life was changed for the better. Her never ending support and constant belief in me fostered so much confidence, happiness, and overall growth within me. She changed my life in ways I never could have imagined and that she will never know. Without her I would have considerably less of a hope of achieving my musical goals, especially not as soon as I would like to. Since I found my person, more opportunities have opened up for me than ever before and I can tell that many of them are directly due to her influence. She led me to places I never thought I would be, like Times Square, and working with successful composer Michael John Trotta. I am now attending my dream college and pursuing my musical career halfway across the country from my hometown in which I met her, and I am thriving, and I could not have done it without her. If I had had that person earlier, who knows where I would be? I would certainly be even further in my development, both musically and otherwise, and I would have been much happier growing up. Because of her, I will soon be in a position to be that person to any number of kids just like me, and I want to make the most of it. I want to use what platform I have to make people’s lives brighter, easier, better in any way that I am able. All someone may need is one person to believe in them and offer them real support, and many people who need someone may never find them. I am so incredibly lucky to have found mine, and I want to help anyone and everyone I can to have that same experience. I refuse to stand by and watch someone I could possibly reach fall into the hole of discouragement that I and so many others have fallen into. I know what it feels like, so, as a teacher, I want to give to anyone I possibly can what I needed--what I wish I had--when I was like them. Maybe, just maybe, I can make someone else want to give back in the same way, just like my teacher did for me when I needed it most.

So many kids nowadays lack a mentor. They have no one to look up to and no one to nurture them, or they might have that person in their family or among their friends but not in an educational setting. As someone who grew up for a good while without a person to really look up to and receive support from, I know what this feels like. I know it makes you feel like you are alone in the world, like there is no help for you and no one who believes in you. It feels hopeless. Once I finally found my person, who happened to be my chorus teacher, my life was changed for the better. Her never ending support and constant belief in me fostered so much confidence, happiness, and overall growth within me. She changed my life in ways I never could have imagined and that she will never know. Without her I would have considerably less of a hope of achieving my musical goals, especially not as soon as I would like to. Since I found my person, more opportunities have opened up for me than ever before and I can tell that many of them are directly due to her influence. She led me to places I never thought I would be, like Times Square, and working with successful composer Michael John Trotta. I am now attending my dream college and pursuing my musical career halfway across the country from my hometown in which I met her, and I am thriving, and I could not have done it without her. If I had had that person earlier, who knows where I would be? I would certainly be even further in my development, both musically and otherwise, and I would have been much happier growing up.

I grew up as poor, brown, queer girl in the middle of one of the smallest, most redneck towns known to man. As a result, I have faced so much adversity in my life; I have faced judgement, ridicule, poverty, oppression, silencing, discrimination and so much more. I had to keep the fact of my queerness from my neighbors and church for years for fear of being shunned and told I was going to Hell, though my family did just that anyway. I have had friends who could not introduce me to their parents because of how they would react to the color of my skin. Even my own household silenced and slandered me for things I cannot control, such as my race and my sexuality. The one place I always felt like I belonged, where I did not feel as if I had to defend my right to exist on this Earth, was my choir. I was surrounded by hardworking people from all different backgrounds who accepted me for me and only asked for the same in return. It was an environment where I could be myself, ask for advice, and pursue my passion. Best of all, I had a choir director who was like the supportive mother I never had. Her never ending support and constant belief in me fostered so much confidence, happiness, and overall growth within me. Without her I would have considerably less of a hope of achieving my musical goals. Since meeting her, more opportunities have opened up for me than ever before and I can tell that many of them are directly due to her influence. She led me to places I never thought I would be, like Times Square, and working with successful composer Michael John Trotta. This group of people changed my life in ways I never imagined and that they will never know, If I had had a that kind of second family earlier, who knows where I would be? I would certainly be even further in my development, both musically and otherwise, and I would have been much happier growing up. That's what I want to give back to people. As an aspiring music teacher, my intention is to pass on to the next generations the joy, freedom, and opportunity that music has given me. My first step in reaching this goal was graduating from high school and moving on from my small, suffocating town to bigger and better things at Texas State University in San Marcos, Texas. I have now accomplished this and am working on my music education degree, while also working on becoming an even more passionate, compassionate, and open-minded person so that I pass on to my students and other people around me the joy, freedom, and opportunity that I found in my second family. My next step is to graduate and start my teaching career with a high school teaching job while I pursue my Master’s. I will then pursue my Doctorate so I can become a college choir director.

When I was a child, I was obsessed with the mirror. It was to the point where my parents would redirect me away from a mirror when I was meant to be performing a task because they knew I would get distracted just staring at myself. At some point, they began scolding me when I would look in the mirror at all. It did not deter me; they finally gave up. Fast forward a few years, my favorite phrase was "I love me." If I made a joke I liked, I would say it. If did something I thought was funny or cute or admirable, I would say it. If I just felt like it, I would say it. Whenever I would say it, I would be warned that people may think I was vain if I said that too much, just like they thought I was full of myself when I looked in the mirror. I have little doubt that these occurrences contributed to my self-hatred in my teenage years from which I am still recovering. Being told constantly to watch out for what other people will think about you, and not only never being told to love yourself first, but actually being discouraged from expressing love for yourself for the sake of other people, are all little ploys used by people who are so insecure themselves in order to pull you down into their unfortunate hole of self-loathing. It took me years to unlearn these "lessons" and replace them with the affirming messages I really need. To this day, I struggle with self-loathing and believing I am not enough for this world. The truth is, I am more than enough for this world. I am beautiful, I am smart, I am talented, I am deserving, and I love me, and I will not stop saying it for anyone else. I love me, and the only people who deserve my time are people who support and encourage my love of me. There are still people who see me looking in the mirror and tell me to "stop being so full of yourself!" To them, I am sorry. I am sorry that the people in your life who should foster your health and happiness have failed you. I pray for strength, and I pray for love for you. I hope that one day you will look in the mirror and see the love of your life like I do, because that is who you should be to yourself.

It was Wednesday afternoon in chorus class, and we did not sing. We were made to sit down and watch the new teacher click through dress styles, and then sent out of the classroom with sheets of essay questions. We filed out of the room, and instantly erupted into angry whispers. We never had to answer essay questions with the old teacher. Was she determined to change everything we had built for this program? She was a tyrant, we decided, and we were not going to stand for it. For the rest of the week, we made it known, everywhere, how we felt about her. We even lost a member in the process. I, especially, threw a fit; I told everyone I knew about how she made us get rid of our old dresses, and made us talk about our feelings, and made us sit through boring discussions, and all the other injustices she subjected us to without remorse and without apology. The school’s general negative opinion of her was enhanced through my words and those of others, and, eventually, she heard. She pulled me aside in class one day and asked me what she had done. She listened to me while I explained to her exactly what had made me angry. Then, she apologized: for making a wrong impression, for doing things to make me upset. She apologized for everything, after I had already told everyone how horrible and heartless she was. After I had decided in my heart that I would never accept her. I was conflicted; on one hand, she had proved herself to be a better person than I had judged her to be. On the other hand, though, I had already made up my mind, and what kind of person would I be if I did not keep my word about not liking her? I was confused, but I could not ignore the truth: I was wrong. I had assumed before I tried to know her, and I was wrong. I apologized to her, and she shooed me away with the assurance that there were no hard feelings. From then on, I tried my best to trust her and to play my part in achieving her plan for the program. Flash-forward and it is the last concert of the year. The audience holds more people than it ever has before. There is a call for any alumni in the audience to join us in singing our Alma Mater: the last song of the concert. The first to join us is no other than the boy who left the program in the first week. He happily climbs the stairs to the stage, followed by a flood of other alumni who crowd the risers and make it difficult to breathe. Together we sing the anthem of our school; one final performance before the roller coaster that has been this school year comes to a stop. As I sing, holding hands with two of my best friends, I watch my favorite teacher conduct with joy and enthusiasm. All of her work, including our more-than-rough start, has led to this beautiful, tearful moment. She has built a community almost overnight; she has turned the program and its members around for the better, and to think we were ready to give up on her in the first week. Watching the person I once blamed for everything wrong in our program taught me how to grow from my mistakes rather than letting them define me. Learning from the person I once underestimated showed me how to take charge and take risks for the betterment of myself and others, regardless of others’ opinions. Working with the person I swore I would never think well of gifted me with a new friend and confidant, and a new understanding of why one must truly never judge a book by its cover.

I grew up as poor, brown, queer girl in the middle of one of the smallest, most redneck towns known to man. As a result, I have faced so much adversity in my life; I have faced judgement, ridicule, poverty, oppression, silencing, discrimination and so much more. I had to keep the fact of my queerness from my neighbors and church for years for fear of being shunned and told I was going to Hell, though my family did just that anyway. I have had friends who could not introduce me to their parents because of how they would react to the color of my skin. Even my own household silenced and slandered me for things I cannot control, such as my race and my sexuality. The one place I always felt like I belonged, where I did not feel as if I had to defend my right to exist on this Earth, was my choir. I was surrounded by hardworking people from all different backgrounds who accepted me for me and only asked for the same in return. It was an environment where I could be myself, ask for advice, and pursue my passion. Best of all, I had a choir director who was like the supportive mother I never had. Her never ending support and constant belief in me fostered so much confidence, happiness, and overall growth within me. Without her I would have considerably less of a hope of achieving my musical goals. Since meeting her, more opportunities have opened up for me than ever before and I can tell that many of them are directly due to her influence. She led me to places I never thought I would be, like Times Square, and working with successful composer Michael John Trotta. This group of people changed my life in ways I never imagined and that they will never know, If I had had a that kind of second family earlier, who knows where I would be? I would certainly be even further in my development, both musically and otherwise, and I would have been much happier growing up. That's what I want to give back to people. As an aspiring music teacher, my intention is to pass on to the next generations the joy, freedom, and opportunity that music has given me. My first step in reaching this goal was graduating from high school and moving on from my small, suffocating town to bigger and better things at Texas State University in San Marcos, Texas. I have now accomplished this and am working on my music education degree, while also working on becoming an even more passionate, compassionate, and open-minded person so that I pass on to my students and other people around me the joy, freedom, and opportunity that I found in my second family. My next step is to graduate and start my teaching career with a high school teaching job while I pursue my Master’s. I will then pursue my Doctorate so I can become a college choir director.