By Jason Chen
In the city of Urumqi, China, my grandparents spoiled me with everything my little heart desired. I was sent to a good pre-school, where I played with Legos, happily sang nursery rhymes, and ran around the playground.
Unbeknownst to me, my carefree life in China would soon be uprooted to join my parents who were busy establishing a life in America. One month after my fifth birthday, I would arrive in Elmhurst, New York, just in time to enroll in kindergarten. Intimidated by the new language and atmosphere, I would seek refuge in music, but it would be another decade before I found myself.
During my first two years in the states, my days were limited to going to school and going home. No more games, no more toys, no more fun. I was constantly reminded to study hard and get good grades in school. Unfortunately, school was far from my definition of fun. More often than not, I spent my school day daydreaming about being back with my grandparents in China. Although I was making friends in America, I felt a strong bond to my hometown in China and rejected forging a new life here. At the time, I was unable to understand my mom’s struggles to achieve the American dream and unwilling to accept the adversities of our low-income lifestyle. As a result, I fought learning English and my attitude towards America remained sour.
By my seventh birthday, I was finally speaking and reading English fluently after taking nonstop English as a Second Language classes. Content with this small step towards assimilation, my mom decided to enroll me in violin lessons. Surprisingly, I quickly grew fond of this hobby and looked forward to my weekly lessons. I loved the violin, both for a break from my math workbook and due to the praise I received from my teacher. In addition, picking up the violin occupied my attention and energy, distracting me from reminiscing on my earlier years. Finally, I had tapped into a reservoir of joy in my school-centric life. By the time I was in high school, I was training and playing at the Mannes School of Music in Manhattan on a scholarship and loving every minute of it. My memory of China was but a blip on my radar, and I saw a future for myself in America.
On the first day of high school, I auditioned for the school orchestra, hoping to be concertmaster, a highly regarded position. I shocked my mom when I instead made the decision to join the school choir. Up until this point, the violin was undoubtedly a shining beacon in my life, but when the chance to sing presented itself, I couldn’t help but jump at the opportunity. My seemingly impulsive decision was actually made with deep consideration and in full confidence. I knew I wouldn’t regret putting down the violin because I had long been curious to test my singing voice.
As a lifelong music enthusiast, I was perplexed when I started to feel an immense appreciation for academics in high school. My mom had accepted that I wouldn’t always be engrossed in my studies since my attention had been focused on performance music. But, soon after I joined the choir my first year, I began to frequently participate in class discussions, which I rarely had the confidence to do before. I started spending my time outside of choir studying harder for my courses. It took the increased confidence from finding close friends in choir and validating my passion for singing for me to realize that I was capable of making meaningful contributions in class.
Sophomore year, I unexpectedly took a liking to chemistry. During lessons, my teacher pulled back the curtains on unseen yet ubiquitous laws, and I was highly intrigued. Although I had been exposed to basic chemistry in middle school, something about my self-assuredness led me to view science in a new favorable light. After a semester of a Human Genetics course, I suddenly wanted to become a molecular biologist. The curious jargon and complex mechanisms within biology made my mind tingle. With each new learned piece of information, I was systematically discovering the molecular processes that govern human health. It was mind-boggling that new knowledge was constantly being uncovered, and yet there were so many unanswered questions. In the latter half of my high school career, my science-heavy coursework solidified my fascination with the discipline and heavily influenced my decision to pursue a degree in STEM.
If I had asked my middle school self what I wanted to be when I grow up, “musician” would have been my clear answer. Now here I am, a STEM major in an engineering college, a far cry from where I expected to be. My musically-inclined nature was not likely inherited, since both my parents are virtually tone-deaf. I think my personal childhood adversities compelled me to find comfort in music. While my parents struggled to make a life for us, I found my safe space in the melodies made from my violin and my own voice. It was the gateway for boosting my self-confidence and eventually being able to navigate my journey into science. Although music will always have a place in my heart, what inspires me to get me out of bed every morning is the drive to one day leave my mark in scientific history.
