Plan A

The only concrete plan I ever had for my future fell through when I was sixteen. It was the fall of my junior year, and I realized, as I stood in an empty dorm room, that my biggest dream had been lost.

When I was eleven, I decided that I wanted to attend an art high school. My cousin studied music and graduated from a school for Minnesota juniors and seniors who have a passion for the arts. After watching him grow and flourish artistically, I decided that was what I wanted to do.

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I spent the next four years preparing. I practiced singing and playing guitar every day in hopes that I would be accepted into that school. I had never wanted anything as much in my life.

The big day of my admissions audition finally arrived my sophomore year. I performed for a panel of judges made up of school faculty and local musicians.

I was shaking and sweating, but when I left, I had a good feeling about how it had gone.

Every day for a month I checked the mailbox, nervously awaiting an envelope with my name on it. The moment I saw the word “Congratulations” on paper, the feeling of achieving my biggest goal rushed through me like a wave. I had been accepted. All of my hard work had paid off.

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When fall rolled around, I was filled with excitement and fear. I was eager to meet my new teachers and classmates and begin my study of music, but part of me was afraid. I was starting a new life in an unfamiliar place where I wouldn’t know anyone. Going to art school meant moving out of my home and into a dormitory, living on my own for the first time. I had to leave my school, activities, friends, and family, but I believed it was worth it.

I knew within the first few weeks that I was wrong. Studying music so intensely was causing me to lose my passion for it. I wasn’t being academically challenged, and I missed the extracurricular activities that I had loved at my old school. I was meeting interesting people and learning new things, but I didn’t love it the way I thought I would. After ten weeks, I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t in the right place.

As I packed, I looked around the dorm room where I had lived for two and a half months. I thought about all I had accomplished to get there. Was I making the wrong decision? Was I selling myself short? Had I failed?

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No. Although I was full of doubts at the time, I realize now that I did the right thing. Taking a risk and following my dream at the age of sixteen taught me many things about the world and myself. I met people I hope to know for the rest of my life and gained priceless knowledge about music, but most of all, I learned that your first plan isn’t always the right plan.

With hindsight now, I have no regrets. Taking a chance and attending art school showed me how much courage I have, and making the decision to leave showed me how much strength is inside me. Although it wasn’t easy, the things I experienced and the decisions I made have helped me to grow into the person I am today, and they will continue to help me in the future.

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