Rachel Johnston

When I first decided to audition for Juilliard, I was in London finishing off my master's degree. I had applied successfully to other schools in the U.K., but was especially attracted to something about The Juilliard School. Of course, there was its reputation (though I'd heard plenty of sour grapes, of the "Oh, I hear it's really not as good as all that" variety), and there's the fact that the School is situated in one of the most exciting cities in the world, but mostly, I was drawn by something else: it seemed a little like some Arthurian ideal, a school that people come to from all over the world, to learn and share their passion for their art in a stimulating and challenging environment. (Any student here will confirm both the stimulation and the challenge!)

In any case, finding myself at Juilliard engendered a fairly even mixture of delight and apprehension—and not all of it was for my imminent academic immersion. For someone who grew up in a country like New Zealand, America (not to mention Americans) can be a bit of a shock. Upon discovering that my accommodations for the next nine months were the lower bunk and right half of a desk in a room that would, in New Zealand, only qualify as a broom closet, I almost called the embassy. I mean, who lives in a room they can't fit their instrument into? (Having been here for eight months now, I realize the answer to that question is: almost everybody.)

Also, why was everyone so nice? Were they about to ask me for money? (If so, after my trip to the registrar, they were straight out of luck.) It took several months for me to stop suspecting all Americans of gratuitous sarcasm and accept that they were just strangely positive people. (Of course, this rule of almost unnerving pleasantness has its exceptions, among which are the peculiar sub-species of the New York Ranter and the New York Moron—both of whom are usually quite entertaining.)

Within Juilliard itself, I found many things to amaze and mystify the clueless international student. Amazing was the array of resources on hand to help students with their studies and extracurricular activities. Mystifying was how you were supposed to find a practice room, get cell phone reception, or find chamber music partners when you had arrived on the continent only two weeks previously and didn't know a soul. (P.S: If anyone knows where locker number 6 is, please tell me. I never found it.)

The one thing that didn't surprise me at all was the level of excellence and number of totally committed students at Juilliard. Nothing is more motivating that being in a practice room next to someone playing the same piece as you, perfectly; I have found that my playing has improved as if by osmosis. Though there are times when I wish there were more hours in the day, I have never found having such a punishing schedule so rewarding (and, strangely enough, enjoyable). After hearing the usual warnings about conservatory snobbery, I was surprised to find the student body to be so down-to-earth and friendly, and the faculty are mostly human, too (ear-training/theory tutors excluded, of course).

Overall, Juilliard is turning out to have been a fairly good idea. The experiences I have had here and the things I have learned will benefit me anywhere I go after graduation. If there is one thing I will take from my time at Juilliard (aside from a large overdraft), it will be a deeper appreciation of what it means to be absolutely devoted to being the best you can be. Both the students and faculty here are significant and active parts of the artistic community; every day, the future of dance, drama, and music is growing inside these walls. But most importantly, it is spreading outside the walls, affecting the outside world. In a society that is now, more than ever, questioning what has value, Juilliard students are part of a community of artists who learn, love, and create with all their energy—and, in the end, provide things that no factory can manufacture and no politician can offer. Hope, perhaps. Peace, inspiration, solace, strength, wisdom. Art gives different things to different people, but in my eyes, each student here is a living gift to the world. I'm glad I'm here to be a part of it.

Rachel Johnston is an Artist Diploma candidate in cello.