Advanced Essay #1 [Religion & Growth]

By December, 2016, the discussion of my highschool experience had come up while talking to my parents and we realized we better get a jump on trying to find a highschool for me if I ended up choosing to leave my old school, which I did. We ended up looking at schools such as Central, Christopher Dock, The City School, and Science Leadership Academy. I had shadowed Dock and TCS, and had noted the complete differences in lifestyle from a suburban type area to a bustling urban scene at TCS. I had like most of the schools and I had eventually set up a visit for SLA. In early 2017 I went to 22nd and Arch to visit the school building in the middle of the city. When seeing some of the classrooms in action we had run into familiar faces such as Charles Velasquez, Micah Carrera, and Amaris Ortiz, who were all kids of family friends. Looking back over the last 3 years I see that what had drawn me to SLA is gone. I remember being embraced by the colorful and creative community when I visited the school but now we’re in a cramped new building that’s unfinished, unsafe, and a lot less accessible than the previous. Although SLA is a great school it definitely has changed me and I’m not sure if it’s for the worst. I was a strong Christian and followers of christ leaving my Christian middle school. Transitioning from chapel and prayer twice a week to a school that’s completely accepting about any and everything was especially frantic, and without being constantly reminded of the word of God, I began to find myself slipping in faith barely reading my bible, attending church less, and slowly starting to question God’s existence. I wasn’t sure how SLA would impact me but that’s hardly what I was expecting. Maybe it’s hard to say that I wouldn’t have ended up like this had I stayed in my previous school, but we’ll never know, and that’s okay. I’m excited to see how I grow from here and see my future transition into college. I’m not sure where I’d go, but I know that I’ll be ready for it. It scares me to see myself go from being an advent follower of Christ to a person that ended up liking not feeling the responsibility to uphold God’s image. After 2 years without a bond with Reflecting on my first year of SLA is quite funny. I came in from a school that was quite strict to a laid back environment where much was tolerated and I began to lose my head. WIthin the first month of school I was almost suspended for putting my hands on another student in a manner that I thought was funny at first. That moment taught me a lot and although I regret what I did, I am glad it happened as from there I grew from that experience. Entering my sophomore year I began to grow both physically and mentally and I began to get comfortable as I entered my second year of highschool. I don’t remember much of it as it was a blur since it wasn’t much of memorable transitioning rather than continued education. Starting a new year is quite exciting. You’re a year older and a year closer to graduating. Junior year instantly showed me how much of a difference it is between it and sophomore year. Just within the first week I found myself already being challenged by the workload that was being given out; and as of now I got a better understanding of the workload i’ll be receiving all year. Some days I find myself reminiscing on the past. I often think back to when I had little to responsibilities and my day consisted of snacks and TV. SLA constantly shows me that I’m at the point in my life where I need to step up and prepare for the next phase in my life, adulthood. Just 3 years ago I was in middle school enjoying myself of the yellow school bus. Eventually I’d like to see myself at a point where I’m content with my faith, academics, and maturity; but that takes time and a lot of effort.

Advanced Essay #1: My Life Through Music

Introduction: My goals for this essay were to show how music has affected me in my life. This was a very difficult piece for me to write because of how personal it is to me. I am proud of the details that I incorporated throughout my piece and how descriptive I think it is. I would like to improve on analysis and reflection because these were things that I struggled with while writing this.


My baby blue walls surround me I sit in my room, bored out of my mind. I just finished my kindergarten homework. It was rewriting letters and words. As I lay on my bed, I hear a faint sound coming from the room next door. It was smooth and blaring. I’m used to this noise. It’s the sound of my father practicing his trumpet. This usually bothers me, but today, it intrigues me. The music of the horn captivated me and drew me to my father’s studio.

I slithered into the room and stood near the entrance, admiring what seemed to be perfect technique. Soon, he spotted me from the corner of his eye.

“Do you want to try?” he asked me. I nodded enthusiastically and scurried over to his side. He guided my hand onto the cold yellow brass. The smell of pennies penetrated my nose as I got closer to the trumpet. He placed his lips onto the mouthpiece and started to blow. The same sound from before began to fill the small room. For a second, I stood there, still. I had no idea what to do. How could I even compare to the maestro that was my father? But, with a few encouraging looks, I lightly pressed on the first valve and the sound shifted to something higher. I was making that sound. That beautiful, rich sound.

I pressed a few more valves to change the pitch more. My dad’s blank wall seemed to fill with brightness and color with each note played.

I soon went through every note three times and decided to stop. My dad smiled kindly at me and went to face his music again. It was much too complicated for me to comprehend. I went back to my bed with wonder in my ears and mind.

I wish I could say that this was the moment that I decided that I wanted to be a musician. That ever since that day all I’ve dreamt about was performing on stage with only me and an instrument. But twelve years later, I haven’t a single musical bone in my body. I attempted to play the violin for several years, but I found it to be a liability rather than a creative outlet. The rest of my family, however, is completely different.

Both of my parents are professional musicians and my two brothers are pursuing careers in music. I am the odd one out in my family, the black sheep. I find algebra and solving equations much more stimulating and interesting than reading notes off a staff. My parents tried to console me that I’m still artistic and I’m just like them, but I’ve accepted that I’m different.

That doesn’t mean that music isn’t important to me. Even though I’m not as involved in it as the rest of my family, music is a huge part of my life. Music is the reason I’m alive. Both metaphorically and literally.

I’m a complicated human being. Most of the time, I don’t like talking to people about how I feel or the things that are going on in my life. There are a million reasons why I don’t open up: I don’t want to feel pitied, they wouldn’t understand, I don’t want to burden them, etc. But those don’t matter. Music is how I allow myself to release the emotions I so often engulf myself in. Music is the way I feel. It’s the way I speak to others. It’s how I listen to myself.

After finding out that my mom was sick, I didn’t know how to feel. I had only ever known my mom as healthy and athletic. She walked ten miles a day sometimes, and then she suddenly has cancer of the leg bone. I couldn’t look at her and see a person with cancer. It was my mother, not some frail bald woman you feel bad for in the supermarket line.

kept silent about the news I had just heard. If I couldn’t comprehend what I had just learned, how could anyone else? So, I layed on my bed and stared at the ceiling, in silence for a while. But my mind was blank. The information was in my mind, but I couldn’t process it or formulate any new thoughts. So I turned on my music. I don’t even remember what I was listening to, probably the Beatles or a random playlist I had made, but I immediately started to break down. The fear and sadness that had been building in me for days had finally been allowed out. Everything came rushing out and I couldn’t control myself. I layed there, with tears and snot streaming down my face.

Some people think emotion shows weakness and that crying is worrisome. I don’t think that’s true. Letting all of my emotions out was the most therapeutic thing I could do at that moment, and the music was the key to that. If I had held it in, who knows what would’ve happened. I would have erupted at some random, inappropriate time as if I was a volcano only instead of scalding hot lava it was misery and fear.

The singer’s soft, melodic voice was able to reach into my soul with a key and unlock where I was holding it all in. It’s difficult to explain why music is able to help me open up. It would be easy to say that the way the lyrics are written in a way that feels personal to me and my situation, but I think it’s more than that. Of course, words help. Lyrics are poetry and they mean much more to me than anything a friend or an adult could say. But, there’s something about the melody and instrumentation too. Music is like an entirely different language to me. At first, it’s hard to understand. But as you study it and start listening to it more and more, you discover the beauty of it and what it really means.

That moment wasn’t the first and definitely not the last of my adventures in exploring my emotions with music. Pretty often after a tough day, I just need to come home, put on my favorite Sufjan Stevens song and let it all out. If I didn’t have music, I’m not sure there would be a time where I was able to open up like I do.

Music is life. Music is my life. I was born because of music, and I’m still alive because of music.