This essay focuses on the tension between being forced to participate in music, early in life, and participating freely and joyfully later on. It probably is better to focus first on your early experiences and then on the later ones. It still makes good sense to start with the high point of conducting, and after telling your story you then can return, in the conclusion, to a comment about conducting and how it feels.
I think that the essay focuses too much on the past and not enough on your present passions. It is disappointing to think that after all this time and all the passion you feel for music (singing, playing flute, conducting), you do not really have an account of why it is so important to you. You feel a deep sense of identity with the flute versus the clarinet, but what is so exhilarating about these different pursuits? In the conducting paragraph it seems to have something to do with bringing order and beauty out of chaos. A similar expression comes in your statement about the power to make the music beautiful or ugly. Also, do you prefer to sing alone or with a group? Think about the high points and why they seem so wonderful while other experiences are not quite as good.
Further comments are given below. Please make sure you understand and agree with all revisions that you accept. My suggested revision follows below and in a separate attachment.
--- your essay ---
There I am, sitting, hidden by a black tenderly loved and cared for music stand,
- maybe, but it seems unusual and melodramatic to love one's music stand, even if it has been your own
- the conductor does not sit in the middle; this makes the reader think you are one of the musicians instead of the conductor
by clamorous and obnoxious noises. Sitting and waiting for what seems like an eternity. To my left I hear skweaks and high pitched screeches. To my right I hear blasts of loud blats and low eruptions that shake the stage completely.
- why start with so many negative feelings? Also, it is confusing about why you are waiting. Is this an elementary school concert? Of course it becomes clear later.
In a far away distance I hear low beats and ear-piercing crashes with the occasional drum roll or bass hit. Moments later I stand, move my chair, and put the podium where the chair once stood. I step onto the "podium of truth,"
- this term seems a bit odd
and raise my right hand. Every eye is on me, and silence overcomes the facility. The ensemble sit in silence watching and anticipating my next move. A flick of the wrist and a beautiful B flat tuning note was [is] played. I tap my baton three times and the tuning is stopped and everyone is ready to play.
- I like the details here. It seems like important details are missing, though, between the tuning note and everyone being tuned.
I raise the baton and gently flick it giving tempo. My heart is racing, a drop of sweat drips from the tip of my nose.
- Really, or is this just an embellishment?
I raise both hands and give the down beat. On my left I hear long perfectly unison runs and high pitched heavens. On my right I hear the sycopated rhythms, redundant but beautiful. Heaven is upon me, surrounding me in angelic music.
- Nice conclusion to the paragraph. Good use of detail.
"Hark hear the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say, throw cares away." Voice is my natural instrument,
- This is a surprising turn in that before, you were the conductor, and now you are the singer.
which allow[s] me to produce beautiful harmony and melody or clashing and dissonant music. Singing and music have followed mr throughout my life starting when I was five. I was placed in a music performance group called Sunshine Generation. We performed in many community events as well as our own concerts and shows.
- Was this a singing group?
Why music, you might ask?
- Well, at age five, it was not really your choice. So far there are already too many different points in this paragraph. Keep to one main point per paragraph.
The funny idea about this question is that I really don't know the answer. Music is something I feel, something that is deep inside of me.
- Since it is so important to you, you should at least come up with some explanation or some tentative places to look for the answer.
When I was five my mom forced me to join this performance group. I hated the thought that when I got older I would become a "band geek" or a musician.
- At age five, you probably did not know what a band geek was.
I was a tomboy and preferred to be playing football or soccer with the boys then wearing a bright yellow dress and singing in front of hundreds of people. Forced, but now I voluntarily embark on the journey of music and love every part of it.
- The point of this paragraph is that at first you were forced, but now music is something you love.
I am a musician and I am consumed by music. Music runs throughout every vein and artery in the complex maze of my body. When I was starting middle school I had taken Summer Band with the school, which automatically put band on your schedule. I hated band and everything that had to do with music. I begged and pleaded with my mother to take me out but she refused, and the principal said that it would be a good experience to try new things. So my mother rented a clarinet and told me to try and play it. I looked at her and gave a "yeah...right" look and stomped off to school.
- This is the same story about being forced again.
Little did I know, I can not play the clarinet, so my mom went and rented a flute. I once again stomped off angrily to school but this time it was different. When I put the flute to my lips it was like I knew that this was me.
- good idea
This is what I am meant to do. Yes, I know I was in sixth grade and it was likely that thoguhts that profound never crossed my mind,
- feeling identity in a pursuit like flute playing is reasonable for that age
but that was the feeling that overcame me. Middle school created and ignited that spark that burns deep within my soul. A fire that will forever remain au courant
- awkward to use this term in this context
throughout my life.
--- my revision ---
How Music Became Mine
I sit hidden behind a black music stand, buffeted by clamorous and obnoxious noises. I wait for what seems like an eternity. To my left I hear squeaks and high-pitched screeches. To my right and farther back, I hear blasting blats and loud, low eruptions that shake the whole stage. At a distance I hear low beats and ear-piercing crashes, with occasional drum rolls and peals of bass. Finally it is time to stand. I move my chair and place the podium in its place. When I step onto the "podium of truth" and raise my right hand, every eye turns to me, and silence overwhelms the facility. The whole ensemble sits in silence, watching and anticipating. A flick of the wrist produces a beautiful B-flat tuning note and then a bit of chaos again until order restores itself. I tap my baton three times, the tuning stops, and everyone readies to play. I raise the baton and gently flick it as I give the tempo. My heart races, a drop of sweat aims for the tip of my nose, I raise both hands, and I give the down beat. On my left I hear long, perfectly unison runs and the high-pitched heavens. On my right I hear the syncopated rhythms, redundant yet beautiful. Heaven is upon me, covering me in angelic music.
"Hark, hear the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say, throw cares away." Music has been an important part of life since I was five, although it was far from my passion at first. At age five I was placed in a music performance group called Sunshine Generation, which performed at many community events and in our own concerts and shows. My mother forced me to join this group, but I hated the thought that I might become a musician. I was a tomboy who preferred to be playing football or soccer with the boys to wearing a bright yellow dress and singing in front of hundreds of people.
I was forced into music again in middle school. I had taken "Summer Band," which automatically put the band class on my fall schedule. I learned to fear becoming a "band geek." I hated Band and everything that had to do with music. I pleaded with my mother to get me out, but she refused, and the principal supported her, saying that it would be a good experience for me to try new things. My mother then rented a clarinet for me, and I remember giving her a mean look and stomping off to school.
I quickly decided that I could not play the clarinet, so my mom rented a flute. I stomped off angrily again, but this time something was different. When I put the flute to my lips, I knew somehow that it was for me. Soon I began to voluntarily embark on journeys in music. Today, I love every part of it. Voice is my natural instrument. I can choose to produce beautiful harmony and melody or clashing and dissonant tones. Singing, playing, or conducting, I am a musician consumed by music. Music now runs through every vein and artery in the complex harmony of my body.
Music has become an essential part of my identity. I know that I was in sixth grade when I found my calling, but the feeling that overcame me has remained as I have matured. Playing the flute in middle school created and ignited that spark burning deep within my soul. Music is the constant fire I feel deep inside me, and I expect it to burn brightly throughout my life.