Prompt: Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you. (250-500 words)
Word count here comes in at 488.
"Do You Hear What I Hear?" had always been my favorite song to hear my school's Chamber Singers sing before I made it into the group. I was enamored with the course the song took, beginning as a soft pitter patter of "brum bum bum"s, gently crescendoing into a healthy chorus of soaring women's voices akin to heraldic trumpets, and finally ending at a strong forte of homophonic glory. Now singing the solo for that song was more joy than my 15-year-old mind could manage.
After a number of songs at the usual holiday house party, our group's performance ended. Content with the evening's gig, we made our way out of the home in a fashion typical of teenagers dressed in equally unsightly holiday garb. I was halted by a tug on the sweater from a young boy hanging onto me, with glinting blue eyes as round as the quarters he probably got when he lost his first tooth. With the most poignant infusion of innocence and awe as only a child can have, he whispered to me "You were my favorite singer" and scurried back to the safe place behind his mother's knees.
He relayed so much more than those five words to me - I saw the true excitement and spirit of both youth and the holidays stirred up in him by our songs and performance. His expression showed a new interest and passion in his life that we had instilled. The ability to sing I had been born with by a stroke of luck; yet it actually sparked something in another person. I saw that music is, in its most pure form, a connection of expression between people.
What he will never know is that he instilled in me a great appreciation for that connection in my life. Music was already key in my existence, but he opened my eyes to the reason it affected me so deeply. His words inspired me to pursue the development of the force I had uncovered. Music now seemed to saturate all aspects of my days: reading a book for English class became an exercise in synthesizing ideas across disciplines as I identified the aspects that related to a certain song I was crafting; math began to impose itself on my sheet music, helping to point out patterns and explaining the physics behind the phenomenon of pitch relationships.
My new dedication had its cost, to be sure. Free time became scarce due to a high number of commitments. Many of my friends could not understand my perspective, and were confused by my choices. Yet every sacrifice I made was a contribution towards not only the advancement of my musical skill but towards the person I know I can be. The symbiotic relationship between performer, song, and audience has taught me more than I could have ever expected - more than I knew was possible until a child revealed it to me.
Word count here comes in at 488.
"Do You Hear What I Hear?" had always been my favorite song to hear my school's Chamber Singers sing before I made it into the group. I was enamored with the course the song took, beginning as a soft pitter patter of "brum bum bum"s, gently crescendoing into a healthy chorus of soaring women's voices akin to heraldic trumpets, and finally ending at a strong forte of homophonic glory. Now singing the solo for that song was more joy than my 15-year-old mind could manage.
After a number of songs at the usual holiday house party, our group's performance ended. Content with the evening's gig, we made our way out of the home in a fashion typical of teenagers dressed in equally unsightly holiday garb. I was halted by a tug on the sweater from a young boy hanging onto me, with glinting blue eyes as round as the quarters he probably got when he lost his first tooth. With the most poignant infusion of innocence and awe as only a child can have, he whispered to me "You were my favorite singer" and scurried back to the safe place behind his mother's knees.
He relayed so much more than those five words to me - I saw the true excitement and spirit of both youth and the holidays stirred up in him by our songs and performance. His expression showed a new interest and passion in his life that we had instilled. The ability to sing I had been born with by a stroke of luck; yet it actually sparked something in another person. I saw that music is, in its most pure form, a connection of expression between people.
What he will never know is that he instilled in me a great appreciation for that connection in my life. Music was already key in my existence, but he opened my eyes to the reason it affected me so deeply. His words inspired me to pursue the development of the force I had uncovered. Music now seemed to saturate all aspects of my days: reading a book for English class became an exercise in synthesizing ideas across disciplines as I identified the aspects that related to a certain song I was crafting; math began to impose itself on my sheet music, helping to point out patterns and explaining the physics behind the phenomenon of pitch relationships.
My new dedication had its cost, to be sure. Free time became scarce due to a high number of commitments. Many of my friends could not understand my perspective, and were confused by my choices. Yet every sacrifice I made was a contribution towards not only the advancement of my musical skill but towards the person I know I can be. The symbiotic relationship between performer, song, and audience has taught me more than I could have ever expected - more than I knew was possible until a child revealed it to me.
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