About a week ago, I watched a documentary about 9/11. It showed a collage of footage from that particular day as well as the days following. There were shots from the Lincoln Center candle vigil and I had to resist from pointing out to the rest of the theater where all our own Juilliard students were standing and could be seen in the shots. It was a reminder of all the images that so many of us experienced and witnessed last year. Walking away from that film made me realize that those images are actually not what stand in the forefront of my mind in regard to September 11. The reaction of the students and their desire to donate their time and talent is what remains so clear in my mind's eye.

On September 11, 2001, after everyone gathered in the Juilliard Theater, a few R.A.'s, myself included, made an announcement that we would be heading over to the Red Cross to try to volunteer. In less than five minutes, more than 70 people gathered and we walked over together. Once there, there was no immediate work that we could assist with, and we were turned away. People were disappointed and we all talked about how we wished we were doctors or other health professionals, so that just maybe we could be called to help right away. We all wanted to help out so much. Late that evening, I put up a sign in the residence hall to gather people to try to play music at hospitals and Red Cross centers. It was the one thing that we knew we could do, and hoped it could help. By the next morning all 100 of the sign-up slips had been filled out.

A few days later, I went down with a friend to the Armory, which was the central information spot for families that were missing loved ones. We waited for hours until finally one of the mayoral workers, who was effusively enthusiastic about having some music inside the stark Armory, said she would allow five people inside, but that I had to be back with them in 30 minutes. I still remember calling Rebecca Taylor and asking her how long it would take her to get ready to come over. Her response was, "As long as it takes me to throw on some shoes and run over there." A few of us headed over and played. We were so warmly greeted by volunteers, members of the police and fire departments, and most importantly, families. Some people just sat down and cried in front us, some stopped us to ask for requests, some talked to us for some length. There were five of us playing, and we had other Juilliard students come down to fill in whenever someone had to leave. It was constant music for the whole day. At one point, when there were just two of us left, realizing that I could hardly pick up my arms anymore, I looked up and saw violinist Maxine Kuo in the same state, because the two of us had been playing for more than nine hours straight. We finally packed up, but another student who had just arrived decided to stay and play solo music for the remainder of the evening. Over the following days, students continued to go to the Armory and play, other students were playing in the park to raise money, and other students were playing anywhere that they thought music would be appreciated.

Throughout the subsequent weeks, so many people offered so much time and talent. I was a part of a chamber group that practiced and prepared to perform at a benefit concert, and we were told at the last minute that the concert was canceled. Unhesitatingly, the group said, "Well we're all here, let's go play for the firefighters downstairs." And so we did. Experiencing all these ad hoc performances, many memorial services, and even some military services, it was always so striking how beautifully kind all these students—my colleagues—were. I think it's important to continue to uphold this kind of beauty because it shows the pureness of what we do here. It is true that memories fade over time, but remembrance doesn't, and we should always remember what good we can do with what little or much we have to offer.

I wanted to end by reading something that was given to me. But first I wanted to say thank you to everyone who gave so much and continue to give so much. There are those of you whom I played with at so many moving and painful services, and then there are those of you who went out and did your own incredible thing to donate yourself. Thank you.

The following is an excerpt from a piece written by Audrey Hepburn, and is somewhat facetiously titled "Beauty Tips":

For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.
For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.
For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.
For beautiful hair, let a child run his or her fingers through it once a day.
For poise, walk with the knowledge that you'll never walk alone.
Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you'll find one at the end of your arm.
As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself, the other for helping others.

— Sarah Koo, graduate student in cello