My Star Student

Annie’s “star” on Grad Nite.

Tonight I’m going to head to Annie’s old high school and sit in an auditorium I haven’t sat in for over 20 years and watch this year’s graduates accept the scholarships they’ve won. I don’t know any of the students anymore. I used to, when I taught in the computer lab in one of two elementary schools in the district, I saw all the K-5 kids during the school year. So, for many years, I knew most of the kids in middle or high school. Which my kids loved, of course—I knew all their friends. This year, the only name I’ll recognize is the one on the scholarship I’ll be handing out to one of this year’s graduates: The Annie Willis Musso Citizenship Scholarship award.

The coordinator told me all I had to do was walk up to the stage when her scholarship was announced, take the envelope, hand it to the student, shake their hand, and walk back to my seat. Sounds simple, right? However, for some reason I keep rehearsing what I’m going to say, even though it’s barely a sentence and I’ll probably mess it up anyway. Like, all I have to say is “Congratulations!” or “Well done!” and I keep turning phrases over in my mind so this student knows what a huge gift this is. Not monetarily—it’s a modest amount. But to be the first person to be a participant in Annie’s vision of the world as interpreted by me when I wrote up the criteria for the application is a big deal. I hope I got it right.

After a recent local fundraiser (during which we did unbelievably well!) the board of Annie’s nonprofit met to map out the path we’re going to take and decide what to do with the really generous contributions we received. The first decision was to endow the scholarship so it can be given annually. I personally can’t believe that in a little over a year, we’ve managed to pull together a whole scholarship! And we have a nonprofit—with a board. And a strategic plan! On the other hand, it’s easy to believe if I consider all the work done by all the people involved. If it had been up to me, I’d probably still be Googling “how to start a nonprofit.”

Of course, awarding a scholarship means there’s a scholarship to award—meaning in memory of. In the email I sent thanking the donors after the fundraiser, I wrote “As happy as I am for the success of this experience, I never forget that the only reason we're doing it is because Annie isn't here to do it herself. She'd probably be doing a much better job and definitely be more organized. But, with your help, I feel strongly that we will be able to continue her work with the commitment and love with which she did pretty much everything.”

Since she’s not here, I am grateful we can do these things for her. She would love that a student is receiving money for college because of her. She’d love that we are working towards helping others, being a voice for cancer patients and encouraging folks to be kind to one another. She’d rather be here herself, too, but I know—even if I don’t always get it right—she’d be okay with my trying to do it for her.

I think that’s why I feel like I have to say something…so this student knows a little bit about the person whose name is on the award. It’s not required--they don’t have to know anything about her. And I actually won’t have any time to convey adequate info anyway, so all this ruminating about a speech may just be a way of settling my nerves so I don’t do anything awkward. I have this unfortunate image in my head of handing the envelope to the student but not letting go when they try to take it from me. Hopefully, that won’t happen. Annie would not be okay with that.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Grandma, Annie and Papa at Annie’s graduation.

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