It is always at this time of year that I think about that moment almost five years ago where I stood amidst a raging crowd with sweaty palms, shaky hands occupied by notecards, and cameras flashing vigorously around me. I was a junior in high school when I found out that my high schools arts programs, including my beloved dance program, were at risk of being cut. I remember the teary eyes of teachers wandering down the hall with the dreaded news looming over them that their job was at disposal. I needed to do something. My way of combatting this issue was going to a school board meeting and delivering a speech in hopes that I wouldn't get cut off, like those who spoke before me. It was disheartening and frightening to think that a program I worked tirelessly to get accepted into could easily be locked in a closet and shoved away for no one else to experience the growth, the friendships, and the life lessons I left in my high school dance room. I distinctly remember being young and going to all the dance shows and being enthralled with the beauty of dance. I would tug on my mom's pant leg, look up at her and whisper, "That's going to be me one day." And then it was.
As negative of a situation that it was, it shaped me into the person I am today and taught me a pivotal lesson about myself. The arts develop creative thinking and analytical skills, which sets children apart from their peers in a competitive workplace. We live in a society that emphasizes assessment and test scores over creativity and collaboration. Students go into class, memorize facts, and regurgitate them on a Scantron test in order to achieve high scores, yet employers value the 21st century skills of critical thinking, communication, and innovation that you often don't find in a typical classroom. Students immersed in arts education have higher GPAs and standardized test scores, lower drop out rates, and better attitudes about community service regardless of socio-economic status. I could sit here and spit facts all day about what arts education does logistically for youth, especially at-risk and low-income youth, but that's not what moves people. Personal narratives, I've found, are the most enticing way to make change, so here's my story. I never envisioned myself as a leader. I never imagined I would be standing in a room full of people, spilling my guts out. It could've been someone else who was courageous, but something inside me stirred. After the Board of Education meeting where I stood up and spoke in favor of the arts programs, namely the dance program, I felt so empowered. I felt like I had a voice. I felt like my voice was valuable and the ideas that I kept bundled up inside for so long were important. People wanted to hear what I had to say. People agreed with what I had to say. The arts were so much more than just a program. If you asked me what was the largest turning point in my life, this was it. I knew from that moment on that I had this incredible gift of leadership masked with passion that I needed to share. It was then that I knew I wanted all the young people I come in contact with to know that their voice could make a difference, even if it was the tiniest whisper.
What would a public high school look like without the arts? Would it be eclectic, diverse, and full of life? Would the walls ooze with the creative work of meticulous hands? Would culture and individuality bounce off the walls? I often ponder what my life would look like if I had never been exposed to the arts. Bland and void of energy are the two immediate descriptions that come to mind. More and more I've been beginning to see that when you're invested in something so wholeheartedly, it makes you jump out of the bed in the morning and want to share it with others. That's how the arts makes me feel. There's this goodness in my soul that makes me realize I could spend the rest of my life ensuring that other young children can wake up and feel the same way about something, whether it be the arts or not. I've found that as long as you have that one thing, whatever it may be, that makes you come alive and empowers you to have a voice, literally or figuratively, that is when life is truly lived.
Dance has always given me something to work towards. When I first started (you can ask my mom) I was God awful. I was in the back of all the dances, at least two steps behind everyone else and during class you could often find me in the corner dancing around aimlessly and not paying attention. I was overweight, inches taller than everyone else my age, and all I wanted to do was fit in. I was told multiple times that I was too fat to be a dancer, even though my sole aspiration was to be a ballerina. I worked through it and took that same work ethic and determination with me and applied to other facets of my life. Dance has given me an escape from the everyday ills of life. Life is constantly changing, with it's complex peaks and troughs, but the arts was where I found something concrete and solid that no matter what happened, it would always be there. There are days when I hate dance because it gives you nothing back, just that fleeting moment of being out of yourself. Dancing brings out the strongest emotions in me, from rage to excitement and back through the spectrum. There have been times that I wanted to quit and throw in my dancer towel, but it would be those moments that I would start choreographing to a beat I conjured up in my head. When I got my heart broken for the first time, when I had anxiety about leaving home and starting college, when I felt like I didn't fit in, I danced. In being an overachiever with the ultimate Type A complex, I've always put so much pressure on myself to be perfect in everything I do. So many people see my exterior and think that I'm this superwoman, when in reality, I battle with myself on a daily basis. When I dance, that's the one place where I feel like I don't have to be perfect. Someone wise once told me that if what you're doing doesn't evoke some type of emotion in you, it's no longer worth doing. I will continue to fight for it until it no longer serves or grows me.
When I was a senior in high school, I had this crazy idea to hold free arts lessons for kids who otherwise would not have the opportunity to be exposed to the arts and use the lessons as a means of encouraging all students, despite adversity, to achieve their artistic and educational goals. Now, almost four years later, this crazy dream has turned into a reality and expanded in ways that I never even imagined. My platform work, even before it was my platform, started out as just wanting to promote arts education, but since then it has transformed into a story of empowerment. I remember one time during a mock interview I was asked, "What does the empowerment part of your platform name mean?" At the time, I wasn't too sure. I guess I just liked the sound of it.
I fell in love with all the kids I came in contact with during the program, and watching them grow over just a few short weeks gave me a fulfillment to last a lifetime. Seeing the same shy children who clung to their parents' pant leg later get up in front of a group of people and perform was just as life-changing for me as I hope it was for them. It's a beautiful thing when you walk into a room and kids swarm you to hug you or when you're leaving a one-day workshop and kids line up to hug you as their way of showing gratitude. It wasn't until I partnered with the Girl Scouts that my platform work gained it's true substance and I began to relate my own experience to what I was actually doing. In leadership studies we often talk about the path to leadership as being a continuum, rather than just having that "click" moment where everything made sense in an instant. For me, it was a combination of the two; however, I will never forget my "ah-ha" moment when one of my Girl Scouts pulled me aside after one of our meetings and told me her mom couldn't afford dance lessons so she went home everyday after school and learned a few new moves off YouTube each night. That is when I realized the empowerment component. It's about going after what you want, even if you don't have the resources, because you feel entitled to. It's about finding that one thing that gives you a sense of agency and using that to fuel you to make your mark on the world.
I wholeheartedly believe a student's voice can be heard through the way they express themselves in their art form. Just like presenting an argument to a crowd in a debate, artists are on the verge of getting their point across to be heard loud and clear. Dancers communicate with their bodies, thespians reveal their emotions through their face and the way they interpret their monologues, singers belt out their song to display their emotional energy, and artists place their thoughts on a vast canvas. When students can effectively present and portray their ideas and emotions, they acquire an inner self-confidence that leads to success.
So what does an arts education mean to me? It means having a stronger capacity of self-assessment, securing a sense of your own abilities to plan for positive futures for yourself and your community, and capturing an imagination where creativity is so strong in the 21st century, where our country desperately needs innovation. It means questioning authority, questioning yourself and where you stand, and using the quest for the answers as a stepping stone to societal change. It evokes an awareness of yourself and your surroundings. It means being honest with yourself and learning the value of hard work that equates to a yielded product. It means challenging yourself to think critically, analytically, and outside of the box. I credit my success to the confidence dance has instilled in me and the life lessons that I learned in the dance room. If you want to improve something, you knock at that door until someone opens it. Most importantly, it means finding a voice and using that voice to change your own life, and the lives of everyone else you meet.
I also had the honor of decorating jeans with the children at Children's Specialized Hospital for Children's Miracle Network Hospitals annual Miracle Jeans Day fundraiser. At a time where I felt overwhelmed and frantic, and overcome with anxiety because of the commencement of a new school year, being at the hospital put everything into perspective. The children there are so full of life and energy, despite whatever they may be overcoming. It seemed selfish of me to even remotely feel sorry for myself and my woes, when there were so many other larger issues at hand. All the kids wanted to come in and "see the princesses," which gave fulfillment to my day(not to mention help me live out my lifelong dream of being a princess!) I made a great friend with one of the girls, who celebrated her birthday just the day before, and we spent the entire time cracking jokes, decorating jeans, and getting to know each other. We also got to talk about one of my favorite things, jewelry, as she complimented me on my collection of bracelets. It was at this point that I was reminded of my grandfather, and heard his words, "Everyday I give something to a child because they're the ones who are going to give back in the future." My new friend asked me if I thought she could be Miss America one day and I slipped my bracelet onto her wrist, as a belated birthday gift, in hopes that she would always remember that she could. 