Watching Sabrina Carpenter rise from a young Disney star to a global pop phenomenon is my Roman Empire. There are a million reasons to be a fan, but her work ethic is definitely at the top of my list. I feel like it was just yesterday I was watching her and Rowan Blanchard climbing through windows in Girl Meets World. Then, in what felt like the blink of an eye, "Espresso" came out and became the song of the summer. The music video (directed by Dave Meyers, whose work I hugely admire, especially on "Jump") perfectly captured the rebrand. It felt like a true breakthrough moment, a declaration of who she was as an artist. Though the rebrand started with "Emails I Can't Send," I believe Espresso was the moment it was solidified. The thing is, even though it seemed to happen overnight, if you'd been following along from the beginning, you'd know Sabrina has been releasing music since 2009. It's been over 15 years since her debut single "Can't Blame a Girl for Trying," isn't that wild? The reason this matters so much to me, and impacts my career, is that I'm also an actor and musician in the making, currently attending Berklee College of Music in pursuit of my dream of becoming an artist. While I don't share Sabrina's background of growing up on Disney, watching her success makes me genuinely believe I could do it too. What's most inspiring isn't just the fame, it's that she had to actively break the stereotypes her acting roles pushed her into. It was her own spark, her own talent, and her tireless work as a lyricist that carried her to where she is now. That's the part that sticks with me. My goal is to be a smart businesswoman like Sabrina, but even sharper and more driven. She's proven that longevity in this industry isn't just about talent; it's about strategy, reinvention, and owning your artistry. She's collaborated with icons like Madonna, showing that when you put in the work and stay true to your vision, the doors that open can be extraordinary. Because I don't have the same foundation she started with, opportunities like this scholarship mean everything. I plan to use this award to help cover the remainder of my tuition because I take my education seriously, and I know that what I learn at Berklee will make me a wittier songwriter and a stronger musician overall. Sabrina spent 15 years building toward her breakthrough, and I'm willing to put in every bit of that same time and effort. And hey, maybe someday I'll get to work with her too. You never know.

I was not a part of the foster care system. From a very young age, I’ve felt a deep connection to the arts. My parents love to tell the story of how, even before I could speak, I would crawl toward the source of any music playing in the house. They recognized early on how much joy music brought me and supported me wholeheartedly as I explored dance, music, and theater. Their encouragement helped shape my identity, and it’s through their belief in me that I’ve been able to pursue my passions with confidence. Over the years, I’ve studied a wide range of dance styles—jazz, ballet, hip hop, contemporary, musical theater, and tap—which have each offered their own unique way of telling stories and expressing emotion. I was also fortunate to study voice under incredibly patient, knowledgeable, and passionate teachers who taught me not just technique, but how to convey emotion through music. These experiences gave me more than just artistic skills—they taught me about discipline, empathy, communication, and the power of community. The impact the arts had on me during my formative years is something I carry with me every day, especially in my work with students. This past year, I’ve had the incredible opportunity to choreograph for my local community theater. I work with middle and high school students at the Shedd Institute for the Arts, teaching them basic choreography in the style of musical theater and offering guidance in vocals and acting as well. Working with kids has always brought me joy, and being able to share my passion for the arts with them is deeply fulfilling. I strive to create a supportive and inclusive environment where they feel safe to express themselves, take creative risks, and grow both artistically and personally. Pursuing a college degree will help me deepen my understanding of the arts and enhance my ability to teach and mentor others. I believe that higher education will equip me with not only advanced technical skills but also leadership tools that will allow me to build programs and initiatives that bring the arts to underserved communities. I want to continue creating spaces where young people can discover the transformative power of music and theater—just as I did. My goal is to give back to my community by using what I learn through higher education to expand access to arts education, foster connection, and spark a lifelong love of creativity in others. I hope to help make the arts more accessible, inclusive, and valued in all corners of my community.

I grew up to a soundtrack of warm melodies embracing me as they floated from my CD player. At all hours, the mixtapes Papa made for me—classical, jazz, and rock—spun through its speakers. Many nights, Mama would quietly enter my room to turn off the music or audiobooks I had left playing. I’d pretend to be asleep, waiting until I could press play again and drift back into the comforting world of stories and song. My little brother and I would visit the library together, searching for audiobooks to listen to. When my sister and I took dance lessons, I loved watching her perform. I’d create playlists of songs from her routines so that when I closed my eyes and listened, I could see her floating gracefully across the stage. Being homeschooled allowed me the freedom to explore passions at my own pace, and music was always at the center of it all. I still remember violin lessons with Miss Lily, who would smile kindly and remind me for the hundredth time that my nails were too long. Later, I studied with Isabelle, who would sing and play along with me. One summer, I attended a fiddle camp in Ashland, Oregon. I stood ankle-deep in a cool creek, playing “Canon in D” as the notes floated through the trees and over the rushing water. With Miss Krista, I learned to glide my fingers over piano keys, breathing life into the solemn notes on the page. She taught me to play “Watermark” by Enya, and every December, she brought her students house to house singing carols. That magical mix of music, learning, and community became a part of me. Then, I discovered a new love: the guitar. I began lessons with an incredible teacher who could make me laugh even when I felt discouraged. He made up lyrics when he forgot the real ones, showed me how to play the drums when I needed a break, and made our lessons the highlight of my week. But suddenly, the music skipped. My CD scratched. My teacher took his own life, and the joy I once found in playing was swallowed by grief. My guitar sat untouched in the corner, a painful reminder of our lessons that would never happen again. I couldn’t play without crying. I couldn’t remember his laugh without guilt rising in my chest. Why didn’t I try harder? Why was I fussy when he gave me challenging songs? I couldn’t stop asking “why.” But deep down, I knew he wouldn’t want my pursuit of music to stop. The love of learning and expression he shared with me is something I still carry. Slowly, I picked up the guitar again. I sang through the tears. I rediscovered that the beauty of music is its ability to connect—to others, memories, and healing. When I transitioned to public high school, music helped me find my footing. I joined choir and met people who shared my love of singing. I kept playing guitar, now with more purpose. Music became my bridge to others and a way to keep the memory of my teacher alive. His spirit echoes in every note I play. Music has shaped every part of my high school experience. It helped me grieve, grow, and connect. I want to continue growing, creating, and using my art to connect with others. Because of music, I’ve found my passion and my path. I recently committed to Berklee College of Music because music, and the connections I've made because of it, has taught me who I am and want to be.

My favorite Nintendo game to play is definitely Super Smash Bros. The main reason for that is because it's the game that my siblings and I would play together. Growing up homeschooled I have a very close bond with my siblings. When my sister, who is 7 years older than me, moved out for college I didn't get to see her much anymore because she was always busy with either work or classes, or just hanging out with friends her age. My brother and I are still very close, but we both recently switched over to being a part of the public school system. While we still get to see each other it's a lot less than we used to. Because my brother is really into games there aren't many games I feel competent enough to play with him anymore. But whenever were all home together we play Smash Bros together. My favorite memories are of all of us piling on to the couch together and trying to figure out how to not get pushed off the edge of whatever random map we selected. My favorite character to play is Kirby (mainly because he flies, and is super cute!) I remember my brother would always play meta knight because I didn't like him. My sister would pout because we were both better than her, and in the end my brother would win most of the time.