The Discovery
The sweet metallic tones of the brass clashed with the earthy warmth of the woodwinds. As the sound flowed through the middle-school halls, I discovered music. The beat pulsed through my veins, guiding my heartbeat, while shifting frequencies reshaped my thoughts into rhythm and melody. Ever since, my life has felt like a music album, where each song represents a unique connection and lasting impact. In fifth grade, I lifted my horn toward the ceiling and released my first true sound, eagerly claiming my place in music. It felt as though the spindle had met the turntable, setting my life into motion, endlessly playing the soundtrack of my growth. Through challenges, music has remained constant, teaching me resilience, expression, and confidence. Through music, I discovered more than sound—I discovered change.
The Habit
The initial commitment to practicing an instrument was far more challenging than I expected. In music, you may be able to skip measures, but in life, there is no fast-forward; there is only stop or play on. Before performing with a symphony, you must first learn how to create a single, steady sound. I struggled at first, only practicing during school. My life felt like a track stuck on repeat: struggle, improvement, and then new challenges all over again. Instead of giving up, I chose to listen closely and learn from every mistake. I decided to change my habits once and for all. That ‘once’ happened on a single afternoon when I stopped staring at the clock and started staring at the sheet music. I chose to listen. That one decision to stop avoiding the difficult passages and actually engage with them broke my cycle of avoidance. I began taking my instrument home so I could have more practice time and get better. I picked up my euphonium and developed strategies to strengthen my rhythm, tone, and confidence. Hours of focused practice slowly paid off. What once felt overwhelming became manageable. Learning new music grew easier, and my skills continued to improve. Eventually, I earned the role of section leader, requiring constant effort and growth. Each year, I recommitted myself to learning, leading, and improving. Music taught me that change begins with one moment of inner turmoil and dissatisfaction.
Change once, change a habit.
The Grind
Dedication to practice gave me purpose and although I valued each opportunity, I did not always crave growth. I wanted to exceed expectations, yet I sometimes lacked the motivation to push through latent plateaus. When I was younger, I took piano lessons. Each week, I was assigned a new piece to practice at home before performing it at my next lesson. One evening, with the fallboard lifted and the keys were exposed, I sat in our living room, surrounded by couches, a television, and the piano forming a perfect square. My mom in the connecting kitchen was too distracted to see the frustration filling my mind as I stared at the treble and bass clefs in front of me.
The black-and-white keys held me captive. The notes felt like lead under my fingers, forcing me to see the piano as a cage rather than an instrument.
Finally, I asked, “Do I have to practice today?” She gently replied, “Why should I take you to lessons if you don’t practice?” At that moment, I understood the power of small actions. I realized that piano was not something merely happening to me, but rather something I was building. I learned that consistent effort—no matter how small—shapes long-term success. Each repetition, corrected mistake, and extra minute of practice became another note in the rhythm of my growth.
Change consistently, change the experience.
The Perspective
This year, as a state officer, I find myself listening to music as I travel, reminding me of how I learn from lessons provided by past failed attempts. I recall one visit in particular: after pouring my heart into crafting a well-designed workshop, my delivery felt off-key. I walked out feeling defeated, trapped in the dissonance of my own high expectations. However, my mindset shifted when I stepped out of the “performer” role and into the students’ world. I toured the welding and mechanics shops and walked through the quiet, humid rows of the Buhler greenhouse. This shift in perspective helped me realize the workshop was not about my performance but about how they were receiving the content. By the time I visited the next chapter in Inman, I was not just reciting a script; I was conducting a conversation. The students were engaged and excited because I had changed the lens through which I saw them. That single shift in viewpoint transformed a potential failure into a blueprint for my entire year of service. When you change your perspective, you attempt to change the future.
Change perspective, change the future.
The Final Chord
The journey of music has profoundly shaped my life, teaching me three crucial lessons. These milestones transformed not just how I play, but how I live. They showed me how valuable changing a single habit is in pivoting your trajectory, how influential building the music piece by piece through a non-stop grind is, and how shifting my perspective from my performance to how others receive content is a much more powerful vision. Music gave me an understanding of change and looking back, I am incredibly grateful for that fifth-grade year. With the metallic and earthy tones flowing through the hallways, I discovered more than music.
I discovered how small actions make a big impact.
I discovered how consistent effort can transform an experience.
I discovered that by shifting your perspective you change your entire future.
I discovered change.
Bricen Benyshek
State Reporter ~ 2025-2026