Hello, I’m Jena Heath, the person who had the unenviable challenge of following in Michele’s very large shoes as faculty adviser to Hilltop Views and coordinator of the university’s journalism program.

Back then, in the fall of 2008, I seemed unable to turn a corner without meeting someone who looked at me pitifully before telling me all about the transformation of Hilltop Views under Michele’s guidance. The feel-good newsletter became a vibrant, thoroughly reported and well-written campus newspaper thanks to my petite friend’s very large ambitions for her students and her unerring faith in what they could accomplish.

Needless to say, I was thrilled about starting this new chapter in my life after 17 years as a newspaper reporter and editor. I was also daunted.

The one person who encouraged me most during those early days was Michele herself. We met in her office at home, where she shared her syllabi, her grading philosophy, her insights about her colleagues (positive, but unvarnished, as I’m sure you can all imagine) and lots of very keen advice about the transition from the newsroom to the classroom. Most of all, she shared the absolute joy she took in getting to know her students.

And know them she did. She told me not just about one editor’s design talent, but about her outsized loved of cats, her extreme shyness and the potential Michele saw in this serious young woman, both professionally and personally. Michele made it her business to help bring that potential forth and, as important, to help her young friend have some fun.

She told me about the romances on the Hilltop Views staff. No new couple was subtle enough to elude her hawk eye and though she tried to stay more or less neutral, she couldn’t help musing about whether or not they were a good match and wondering about what the future held for them.

She knew all about her editors’ families, their academic challenges and triumphs, their hopes and their disappointments. She loved them and they loved her in return.

In one of the many tributes to Michele published since her death, I read this quote:

“I wasn’t really a teacher,” Michele said of her love of interacting with the students. “I was somebody with a passion for something who wanted to share it with them.”

In this, I will beg to differ with my dear friend.  She was the epitome of what a teacher should be. I know because I learned so much from her. When we first met, in the summer of 1999, I had joined the Austin American-Statesman as its Washington correspondent. I spent my first two weeks in Austin trying to meet everyone I could. Everyone I encountered, from reporters, to public officials to lobbyists, said there was one person I couldn’t leave Texas without knowing – her name was Michele Kay.

So, I called her. She invited me over to the Greystone house, where she and Robert, who were still newlyweds, lived then. She sat me down at a table in the back yard, got me a Perrier and disappeared. When she came back, she handed me a large box. Inside were more rolodex cards than I’d ever seen. It was Michele’s source list – a who’s who of powerbrokers and notables. She then ordered me to take notes while she explained how Texas worked.

That was my first lesson from Michele. There were many others. Over the years, over more dinners and glasses of wine than I can count, she taught me to, among other things, cook a roast, correctly baste a Thanksgiving turkey, shop for clothes at lightning speed (a visit to Ann Taylor with Michele was always a dizzying sprint) and, most important, not to sweat the small stuff when it comes to being a mom. She taught me to see the humor and pathos in people’s mistakes and foibles – and in my own. She took great delight in gossip, but never in a malicious way. Indeed, her enormous interest in others, her curiosity about people and embrace of their differences, helped me, I hope, to become more patient and accepting, to see that we all make mistakes and that the vast majority of these mistakes should be forgiven.

In the final weeks of her life, Michele taught me her greatest lesson. I was fortunate to be able to help Robert during the week. Together, we spent many quiet mornings rousing Michele, helping her with breakfast and, often, sitting by the fireplace and just relaxing. I watched the friend who had so tenaciously fought to hold on to her amazing life slowly decide – and I believe it was her decision – to let it go. In those weeks, though she stopped expressing herself verbally, Michele’s eyes said it all. She was at peace.

Michele told me more than once that what she feared most was being forgotten. She wanted to know that she had left a legacy. I assured her that she had – and that we would never forget her. Today, it is my great honor to announce the creation of the Michele Kay Outstanding Student Journalist Award, which will be given this year at Honor’s Night to a graduating senior who has minored in journalism, worked consistently for Hilltop Views and intends to pursue a career in the field.  Along with the Michele Kay Outstanding Portfolio Award, I know that this honor will underline, each year, this remarkable woman’s contributions to our university and to the profession she loved so much.

Thank you.