I am a musician. I'm 17 years old and in 11th grade. My school, Walt Whitman High School [http://www.waltwhitman.edu/], is named after the great American poet of the U.S. Civil War and the era of immigration that followed it—when America experienced its greatest pains of division, then the growing pains of diversity, and became a "melting pot" of nationalities.

Walt Whitman is considered to be the greatest American poet, and the greatest poet of democracy. Perhaps because he saw the wounds the Civil War caused (he was a medic for a time), Whitman espoused brotherhood, the common man, and an inclusive vision:

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear ...

Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else ...

("I Hear America Singing," by Walt Whitman, stanzas 1 and 7)

He is best remembered for his book-length poem Leaves of Grass, also known as the Song of Myself.

I mention this for more than historical interest. As I said,
I am a musician. But the musical instrument I play is me: I am a singer. And as a singer, I have experienced what Whitman meant—the power of the voice to break down boundaries and open doors. When I sing, I open a doorway for the audience to pass through and share the beauty of the music. This sharing can happen between peoples, too. Music is the only universal language, and musicians can open doors between cultures, bringing nations together.

Whitman's poems celebrate immediacy and physicality: "I sing the body electric," he wrote, "the present now and here, / America's busy, teeming, intricate whirl." ("I Sing the Body Electric" stanza 1, and "Eidolons," stanzas 25 and 26). In this spirit, I will describe the "now and here" in the "whirl" of this particular American teenage singer's life.

My day begins at 5:45 a.m., when I wake and shower. For me, singing in the shower is a necessity! I need to warm up my voice at the very start of a long vocal day. My vocalization has been known to awaken my parents and our four housecats. "I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world," Whitman wrote. My goal is not to yawp, actually, but to sing beautifully. I may not be a big guy, but I have big dreams. I dream of singing "Nessun Dorma" from Puccini's Turandot on the Metropolitan Opera stage one day. I dream of being a great opera singer.

I also sing and act in musical theater—in the summer of 2004 I sang in Sweeney Todd, produced by Wildwood Summer Theatre, an all-youth theater company, and in the fall I played Marius in my school's production of Les Misérables. I sing rock 'n roll, too. I am lead singer for a band made up of friends from school, Big Black Cat. We compose original songs (I write the lyrics) and maintain a Web site (http://www.purevolume.com/BigBlackCat). Walt Whitman would relate, I think: "If he were alive today, old Walt would be playing rock and roll." (David Haven Blake, cited in Peter Carlson, "Walt Whitman, Taking Poetic License"). We have played at nightclubs in Washington, D.C., to raise money for Parkinson's disease research and for victims of the 2004 Asian tsunami.

Back to everyday life. After a quick breakfast (with my daily cup of tea with honey), I head for school, which is only a couple of miles from my house. Classes begin at 7:25 a.m. This semester I study Latin, pre-calculus, English, psychology, men's chorus, and chamber choir, and for one class period I work as student aide to the master of choirs. I begin my day singing, sing with the men's chorus before lunch, practice singing during my lunch period, and end my school day singing with the chamber choir. More often than not, I stay after school ends at 2:10 p.m. to practice singing or to rehearse for a school play, concert, arts festival, talent show, or "battle of the bands."

Then it is home again, where I listen to rock and opera recordings and prepare music for performance. Right now I am perfecting songs in French, Italian, and English: "Lydia" by Gabriel Fauré, "Amarilli, mia bella" by Giulio Caccini, and "The Roadside Fire" and "Loch Lomond" as arranged by Ralph Vaughan Williams. With the first three of these, I placed first among high school advanced male singers in the 2005 Mid-Atlantic Regional Student Auditions of the National Association of Teachers of Singing. I was soloist in the last song in Orlando, Florida, during my school's 2005 music field trip.

After these private hours with my music, I often go for a run in the neighborhood to clear my mind. Next, I do homework until my parents return home from work and we have dinner. Then I finish my homework and, before bed, watch television or a DVD (often an opera) or download songs from the Internet. On weekends I have a lesson with my voice teacher, Dr. Myra Tate, catch up on sleep and school assignments, and go out with my friends.

It is a demanding life, much like that of an athlete, but worth it. My goal is to study vocal performance at a university or conservatory next year and, someday, to sing at the great opera houses of the world. As Dr. Tate tells me, "Opera singers are the Olympic athletes of vocalism." So far, music has opened the way for me to perform on the high school and community stage, at university and arts center recital halls, and at major rock venues in my area. This summer, I will perform my first operatic role, as Borsa in Verdi's Rigoletto, in a production of the Bethesda Summer Music Festival—the same role played by Placido Domingo, the great tenor and General Director of the Washington National Opera, in his own operatic debut.

So, I live each day fully, energized by my passion for music and my growth as a singer. For me, again Walt Whitman's words ring true:

If thou wast not granted to sing thou would'st surely die. ("When Lilacs Last in the Door-yard Bloom'd," stanza 4)

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