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Finding Family: What Keys 2 Success Really Means

When I asked our students and volunteers what would happen if Keys disappeared tomorrow, I expected to hear about missed piano lessons or canceled concerts. Instead, I heard something that stopped me in my tracks: "I'd lose my family."

These weren't isolated kids struggling to connect. These were popular, accomplished students—the kind you'd assume had it all figured out. Yet again and again, they told me that Keys gave them something they'd been searching for: a place where people genuinely cheer you on, where you have the psychological safety to be truly yourself, to attempt hard things, to fail, and then to try again.

I asked a few of them to write down what they shared with me. In this newsletter, you'll read three essays from young people who come from vastly different backgrounds and experiences. Yet they found family in each other. This is what draws them back to Keys week after week, even when they have a dozen other places they could be.

I hope these stories give you a taste of what you've helped build here. I hope you feel proud, motivated, and encouraged.

Because there's so much more work to be done.

Last November, we received an invitation from the city of Newark to bring Keys to every single rec center in the city. Obalaji Baraka saw with his own eyes children growing up in public housing—standing tall, accomplished, well-spoken, ambitious—and he knew that Keys needed to be a program for all children in Newark.

So now we begin the scaling.

Keys is designed for the 99%. Now, we have been invited to serve the 99%.

With your help, this year we've hired Shikera Usher, a long-time Newark resident, to help Keys with this expansion. Shaughnessy is back and planning our 10th anniversary celebration at Baltusrol. Stay tuned for more teaching artists, new Urban Fellows joining our teaching staff, expanded programming, more locations, more performances, and more partners.

We push onward and upward. Spreading light and hope wherever we go.



The Story of a Student

"It's pronounced Ty-ra, not Tia-RAT."

The class laughed. I didn't.

That was my first interaction at an American school, and that one syllable turned my name into a joke. Let me officially introduce myself: my name is Tairat (Ty-rah), and I live in Newark, New Jersey. But I moved here from Nigeria at the age of eight.

No typical eight-year-old would want to leave their friends and family to come to a whole new country and start over again. But not me. I was looking forward to leaving the hard life in Nigeria to start a new one. I was excited to make new friends and finally live in the United States of America.

When I introduced myself, I said my name was Tairat.

"Terat?" they questioned.

"No, Tairat."

"Oh, Tara," my teacher responded.

Deep down I knew that wasn't how you pronounce my name, but my response was, "Yeah, that's my name."

"Why is your name Tara? That's not how it's spelled. It's more like Tiarat. And why is there a rat in your name?" one kid questioned.

Echoes of laughter followed. I felt like a rat in the middle of a circle filled with dinosaurs. I felt embarrassed. I felt ashamed. I was angry. I didn't like my name.

Why did I have to have a rat in my name? Why did my parents have to name me such a name like that? I questioned myself and I questioned my name because it made me the odd one. Why didn't I have a simple name—an American name, an easy American name—something like Sara, Lily, Annabelle? Why did my name have to be different?

I dreaded having to type my name and seeing the red line under it that indicated it was a wrong spelling, even though it was spelled correctly.

From third grade to seventh grade, my name became Tara because it was easier. It was easier for them to pronounce, and it was easier for me because I didn't have to correct people on how to pronounce my name. I didn't have to do the back-and-forth of explaining that the T in my name was silent.

Every time a substitute teacher paused while taking attendance, I braced myself for the laughter that was about to fill the room. I started to hate my name even more. I spent five years having people butcher my name, and I was fine with it.

That was until I met Ms. Masco, my eighth-grade math and homeroom teacher.

I remember the first day of school—I said hi to my friends and prepared for class. And then attendance began. I braced myself to correct Ms. Masco on my name, but deep down, I was ready to tell her the wrong name because that was easier.

"Amor? Here. Essence? Here. Ti—T—"

There it was.

"Umm, it's pronounced Tara," I immediately cut her off, not wanting her to finish. But I still heard snickers. I sighed to myself, realizing this would always be my life.

At the end of the day, Ms. Masco pulled me aside and asked how my first day was. Before I knew it, I started crying and opening up to her. I told her I like my name and I like the spelling of my name, but I hate the way I become when it comes to my name. I hate that every time someone tries to say my name, I become embarrassed and scared because I know they are going to mess it up.

Ms. Masco said only one sentence: "How do you correctly pronounce your name?"

"My name is Tairat."

For the first time, someone didn't question the spelling or ask why it was spelled that way.

The next day, I walked in and Ms. Masco said, "Good morning, Tairat."

I froze. I realized how beautiful my name sounded.

Throughout the day, Ms. Masco called me my real name, and soon enough everyone did.

"Why didn't you correct me when I was pronouncing your name wrong?" people asked. But the only answer I had for them was, "I don't know." I truly didn't know why for years I had people call me the wrong name. I guess I just felt tired of correcting people.

But now, I correct people if they mispronounce my name. Not to embarrass them—but to honor myself. My name made me unique and different, and it took me a while to accept that being different is a good thing. My name became my pride, and I find joy in explaining to people why my name is spelled that way and why the T is silent at the end.

Around ninth grade, I found Keys 2 Success. At first, I only joined because my best friend asked me to. But it has been more than three years since then, and I still find myself coming every day. Not because I became a teacher (not trying to brag), but because the people there became my second family.

Ms. Krska, my teacher, is my second mother. She pushed me out of my bubble so I could reach leadership levels. Keys 2 Success has given me opportunities to find what I truly like and to introduce my name and my culture to multiple people. Keys inserted itself into my daily life, and I refuse to let it leave because it is impossible to leave your family.

It became the reason I found confidence in myself and my name after having to introduce myself to many people through Keys. And I have had people who ask to learn more about my name. I have never been more excited to explain something that represents and honors me.

Tairat Komolafe is a senior at North Star Chartered School and a youth leader at Keys 2 Success. 

The Story of a Volunteer

When I joined Keys 2 Success three years ago, I was unaware of the vibrant communities that thrived right outside my doorstep. Coming from a competitive school district and an affluent suburban environment, I always felt a looming sense of isolation. Keys 2 Success saved me. Ms. Krska welcomed me with open arms to join the diverse community of students, volunteers, urban fellows, and donors— literally and figuratively. I’ll never forget the warm, genuine hugs I share with the volunteers and junior/urban fellows. Soon, Keys became my safe space where I was encouraged to share my ideas, express myself, and grow. I then began to realize the beauty of a true community, something I had never experienced and probably would not have experienced if I had not joined Keys. 

Keys taught me to really listen to and celebrate each voice. Here, we encourage each other to let our voices soar. I remember demonstrating Bach’s Prelude in C for AJ. Immediately, she reciprocated my playing with her own interpretation. As I began to work with more students and junior/urban fellows, I found myself becoming their student. I observed and absorbed their tight-knit community, rapport, and unwavering dedication to learning the piano. I was touched by their astuteness. When Mrs. Krska wasn’t feeling well one day, they immediately asked her “are you okay?” When one student is struggling at the piano, other students will play together with the student to encourage them. For the first time, I was truly awed by the power of a chorus. When students played together, their musical voices uplifted each other. At our Practice-A-Thon fundraiser, I listened closely. Our music breathed the vibrance and strength of a community that celebrates life for braving through its ups and downs together, as a community.  

I am forever grateful to the community Keys built. It creates a safe, vibrant space where people of all backgrounds and ages can grow together. It shows me that we learn and lead better together than we ever can alone. It made me realize how unknowingly isolated people are when they walk alone, but how easily we connect. That gives me hope for the future of our communities.

Vivian Zhang is a senior at Millburn High School and a volunteer at Keys 2 Success. She plays both the violin and piano, and loves exploring other instruments through Keys. 

The Story of a Youth Leader

[Baylena recently gave the following speech at a Keys event.]

When I first joined Keys, I had no idea how much this program would change my life in the way that it did. Keys has shown me that leadership isn’t just about titles or recognition — it’s about service and recognizing the need. Taking an action and making sure that you use what you learned and the mistakes you’ve made to improve and make it better.

Through Keys, I met various mentors, like Ms. Krska, and a lot of my peers whom you saw here today. Because of them, I’ve been inspired to look deeper — not just at the world around me, but within myself, and within my own groups – at my own roots. Through my time here at Keys, I began to ask myself: “How can I use what I learned at Keys to make a difference in my own community at home? Not just here in lessons, but at home, at church, and at school.”

Good evening everyone, my name is Baylena Augustin, and I’m a Senior at the Union County Vocational Technical High Schools, and I'm a youth leader here at Keys 2 Success. On top of that, I'm the first-born daughter of two Haitian immigrants. And because of that, my Haitian descent is a huge part of who I am. Outside of Keys, I am a ministry leader at my church, where I lead praise dance for our Children’s Church ministry, help with the summer camps, and help plan events at my church. 

It was through working with Keys that I realized the issues – that we work so tirelessly to solve here at Keys – were also a major problem that existed for the children in my church and in my Haitian community. I’m not sure if you know, but Irvington is where my church is located and it is a city next to Newark. It suffers from a lot of similar problems that exists there in Newark. A lot of the youth, you could say, is abandoned in a sense. There is support that is needed for them, but there aren’t resources to help with a lot of these problems. Problems such as a lack of access to opportunities, mentorship, and resources are extremely prevalent. 

One day, I was bringing it up to Ms. Krska, just as I am to you today, and we realized that the solution that was needed was something we were already doing here at Keys. It was Keys! It was music. Like others has said before me, music is not just about the lessons, learning how to play the piano, or the djembe. It’s more than just lessons. It’s community. It’s support. It’s literally like our life.

And because of Keys, I’ve been equipped with tools that I need and the confidence necessary, to do what I do here at Keys and take it home to serve my own community. I’m using what I’ve learned from Keys to give back.

And that’s what we do with every student here. Every student that takes a lesson, they are not just learning music, they are learning how to become a spark, a light that they can shine in their own world. 

And so that’s why I’m here to remind you that, you don’t have to be a musician to make an impact at Keys. The work we do at Keys, is not just for Keys, it’s for each and every single individual that interacts with it.

And that’s the beauty of Keys — its impact doesn’t end when the program does. Every person who grows here carries a spark that lights something new in their world. My project is just one ripple from the wave that Keys started — proof that when you invest in young leaders, they go on to invest in others. So every donation, every contribution, you guys being here today truly does make a difference.

So, to Keys — to Ms. Krska and to everyone in the program–thank you for inspiring me to take action. I really feel as if I've been equipped with the mentors and the examples of leadership that I need to become a leader myself.

And to everyone listening — remember, when you use what you’ve learned to lift others, your impact multiplies. What starts as one key can unlock change in an entire community.

Thank you for your attention and for being a part of our amazing Keys community!

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Questions? Contact us today (908) 883-0887, or through our website