The first thing I discovered was that my predecessor (who had moved to another state months earlier) left mountains of paper, organized in a system that may have fit her heuristic map but definitely did not fit mine. Since her field was art history and mine political science/government, that could account for some of the difference. I found duplicate and triplicate copies of countless documents, filed in binders, folders and on the C drive, H drive, and I drives—hmm.

What I did not find was any record of scholarship activity that took place earlier than the 2003-2004 academic year. I had an office full of information about the past two years and nothing older…Hmmm. I found that to be emblematic of the way many things go at the university; so much excitement about the current initiative, and so little knowledge about anything that came before. When your university was founded in 1967, is it asking that much to have a sense of history? After all, I personally remember when this campus was built, so it has not been all that long…

Plunging in, my first scholarship mission was to support a student applying for the Udall Scholarship. She was a reluctant applicant, who had been advised to apply by the faculty committee that rejected her application for Goldwater. Competition for our four Goldwater slots is fierce because we have such a strong science focus, heavy in biology and biochemistry, but we are also growing strong in engineering. So our Goldwater applicant who was an environmental science major applied for Udall. She had a fine GPA and had a lot of good research experience, but her heart was not in it; that probably came through between the lines of her essays. She was not selected. It was a strange first experience, working with that type of applicant.

My next big mission was to plan and execute a major event—the Scholarship Awareness Event for high-GPA students. This was the second annual such event, so there was not a lot of history to fall back on. (That will be a recurring theme.) And since it happened during my second month on the job, it was definitely a trial by fire experience. The invitation was issued by our ebullient President, who was a speaker—the kind of speaker who ignores the podium and strides up and down the aisles giving a revival-style pitch to the students. “You need to be able to present yourself and your story in less than one minute—the time it takes to ride the elevator from the lobby to the 10th floor. Speak up, look people in the eye, and do not giggle!” To illustrate his point, he called on random semi-terrified students to demonstrate their elevator-introduction skills.

We invited almost 800 students to the event and about 150 actually attended (200 had sent a positive RSVP), and that was pretty amazing. One of my lessons learned: students have no idea how to respond to an RSVP. Here are some choice examples:

Hello. I will try to make it to the event if I can, but no promises.” (no name given)

“To whom it may concern: Julia Suzanne Grinnell-Smith is pleased to accept the invitation to the President’s dinner.” (There was no dinner!)

Finally, there was the excruciatingly succinct RSVP message:

“William P. O’Donnell, III” (just the name, no “I will attend” or “I regret that I will be unable to attend”)

I discovered that students have vivid imaginations and that being summoned to an event by the President conjured up a wide variety of scenes—anything from a formal ball with tuxes to something more akin to a firing squad. They wanted to bring friends (not OK because we invited students with high GPAs only), to bring parents (because they thought it was an awards ceremony), to come only if they were guaranteed a scholarship by UMBC. Some assumed they would have to make a speech! Some had no idea where the University Center was located! (Hint: it is near the center of the university.)

Well, after that event, the rest of the semester was all downhill. Instead of dealing with students “en masse,” I had more opportunities to meet with individual students, some of whom were fascinating, impressive, articulate, and mature well beyond their years. Our Marshall finalist, who was also our 2005 Valedictorian, went off to Cambridge to study Old Norse mythology or some such thing. His senior thesis was about Yeats, and he was well-versed in Far Eastern philosophy. His commencement speech was a work of art.

In the fall, my first season with Fulbright was wild! When I took my own daughter back to college at Carnegie Mellon, I saw a large sign advertising a Fulbright workshop (Judy Zang’s sign!) and I resolved to have such a workshop. I was aware of 2-3 students working on applications, but I thought the early September workshop might bring out a few more. In fact the workshop developed quite a “buzz” and there were more than 20 students there, about 15 of whom were serious about applying! My next month was sheer chaos, but we did send forward nine applications in October, of which four were recommended for funding. As of this writing, all four have received final approval–T.A.’s for Germany and Malaysia and full grants for France and Morocco. My Fulbright lesson learned: some of the best applicants show up at the last minute!! Note for the record: none of the early birds who spent six months on their applications were funded.

I am tempted to tell about other wonderful students I have met over this year, but readers of this article know already from your own experiences that the opportunity to work with these academic stars is what makes the fellowship advisor job so rewarding. Last week the biochem major who won the Fulbright to Malaysia came by (I was meeting with a Jack Kent Cooke applicant at the time) to tell me about his approval letter and he was beaming from ear to ear. I gave him a hug and he thanked me—there are no sweeter words than “I could not have done it without you, Mrs. Miller!” And it’s true—he needed the encouragement and editorial support he got from me and I was happy to be there to give it. My second year promises to be even better. And more organized…maybe?