Music has always been the place I return to when everything else feels overwhelming. In high school, where my days are packed with schoolwork, leadership responsibilities, sports, and the pressure to constantly be “on,” music has been the one thing that consistently brings me back to myself. I remember auditioning for Chamber Choir for the first time. I didn’t get in, and even though I smiled through it, it hurt. But I knew I wasn’t done. I kept singing, kept showing up to rehearsals, and kept working on my voice. The second time I auditioned, I made it. That moment wasn’t just about being accepted into the group-it was about proving to myself that I could grow, that I was capable. Singing in Chamber Choir quickly became one of the most meaningful parts of my high school experience. There’s something powerful about standing in a room full of people, blending voices, trusting each other enough to create something beautiful together. Music helped me find confidence when I felt like I had none. At school, I’m outgoing and talkative, constantly balancing leadership roles and commitments. But at home, I’m quieter-more reflective. In the in-between, when I was overwhelmed or burnt out, music gave me space to just feel. Whether it was humming through a warm-up after practice, or quietly listening to a favorite song late at night, it was always there-steady, familiar, and healing. One moment I always come back to was scrolling through my phone late one night and finding a photo of a friend I lost. Grief isn’t always loud. Sometimes it hits you softly, in the middle of everything else. That night, I turned to music. Not to escape, but to sit with the emotion. Music held the feelings I couldn’t explain out loud. It reminded me that healing takes time and that I didn’t have to go through it alone. Even now, when I throw my track bag down after practice and catch myself humming quietly-a trait I caught from my Dad-I recognize how much music has woven itself into my everyday life. It’s in the big moments—performing at concerts, singing alongside people I admire-and in the small ones-humming in the hallway, letting lyrics say what I can’t. Music hasn’t just shaped my high school experience. It’s helped shape me. It’s taught me resilience, connection, and how to listen-both to others and to myself. I may not know exactly where life will take me after graduation, but I do know music will always be part of the way I process, connect, and move forward. Supporting a scholarship that honors a love for music feels deeply personal because that love is something I carry with me every single day.

My name is Ava Tavares, and I’m a senior at Newington High School. This fall, I will be attending the University of Rhode Island to pursue a Bachelor of Science in Communicative Disorders, intending to become a speech-language pathologist. My passion for working with individuals with special needs began when I started volunteering with Autism Families of Connecticut. Their goal is to provide recreational, social, and supportive programming for children, teens, and young adults on the autism spectrum, as well as their families. Their mission is to create a safe, inclusive, and understanding community where individuals with autism can connect, grow, and thrive while having fun and building meaningful relationships. Each week, I worked closely with kids on the autism spectrum through recreational and social programs. I quickly learned that every child communicates and connects in their unique way. I also learned how important it is to be patient, flexible, and encouraging—especially when progress looks different for every individual. The most rewarding part of volunteering has been seeing the kids I work with grow more confident and comfortable. Whether it was watching a child try a new activity, communicate in a new way, or simply make a new friend, every small moment felt meaningful. I’ve come to understand how powerful support and connection can be in helping a child reach their goals. These kids have taught me just as much as I’ve tried to offer them. Their resilience, joy, and individuality inspire me to keep showing up and doing better. Those experiences solidified my decision to pursue speech-language pathology. I want to help children who struggle with communication feel heard and understood. Whether it’s helping them form words, use assistive technology, or express themselves in nonverbal ways, I’m passionate about giving them the tools they need to thrive. I want to be the person who celebrates their progress, no matter how small and reminds them that their voice matters. As a first-generation college student, I’m also mindful of the financial challenges ahead. My family is incredibly supportive, but college expenses are significant. Receiving this scholarship would help ease that burden and allow me to stay focused on my education and my commitment to serving others. Volunteering with Autism Families of Connecticut has not only prepared me for my future career—it’s inspired it. I’ve seen firsthand the joy and growth that come from feeling supported and included, and I’m dedicated to providing that same experience to others. It would be an honor to carry on Wesley Beck’s legacy by working to improve the lives of individuals with special needs through compassion, connection, and communication.

My name is Ava Tavares, and I’m a senior at Newington High School. This fall, I will be attending the University of Rhode Island to pursue a Bachelor of Science in Communicative Disorders, with the goal of becoming a speech pathologist. About a year and a half ago, I lost a close friend to suicide. Her death left me with an overwhelming sense of grief and confusion that I struggled to process. At the time, I didn’t know how to express my emotions or talk about the pain I was feeling. I kept everything bottled up, thinking that if I didn’t talk about it, it wouldn’t hurt as much. It wasn’t until much later, after I had started therapy, that I realized how harmful that silence had been. Soon after that, I hit another low point. During a therapy session, I was asked to rate my feelings on a scale of one to ten. I answered “like a five,” not thinking much of it. But that simple, honest answer led to a risk assessment and a safety plan. I remember sitting in that room, unable to look my mom in the eyes, feeling the weight of everything I had tried so hard to hide. It was in that moment I realized how much I had been carrying inside, and how even a “five” on that scale could be serious. A few years prior, I had engaged in self-harm as a way to cope with my emotions. I thought I was in control, but looking back, I can see how much pain I was trying to numb. That day in therapy was the moment I realized asking for help wasn’t a sign of weakness—it was a step toward healing. Since that moment, I’ve worked hard to confront my mental health struggles. This upcoming May, I will have been free from self-harm for four years. I’ve learned healthier ways to cope, like journaling, listening to music, and seeking support from others. My experiences have also driven me to help others find their voice, especially those who feel like they don’t have one. As president of my school’s mental health club, I’ve worked to create a supportive community where students can discuss their mental health openly and without judgment. I’ve also presented to middle schoolers about emotional wellness, hoping to make a difference before they reach the point where silence becomes their coping mechanism. These experiences have shaped my decision to pursue a career in speech-language pathology. I want to help individuals who struggle to communicate, whether due to speech disorders, trauma, or emotional barriers. I know firsthand how difficult it can be to express yourself, and I believe in the transformative power of communication. I want to be the person who helps others find their voice, just as I’ve learned to find mine. The loss of my friend, coupled with my own mental health challenges, has taught me the importance of vulnerability, connection, and seeking help. As I take the next step in my education at the University of Rhode Island, I am committed to using my experiences to help others feel heard, understood, and supported in their own journeys.

My name is Ava Tavares, and I’m a senior at Newington High School. This fall, I’ll be attending the University of Rhode Island, where I plan to pursue a B.S. degree in Communicative Disorders to become a Speech Pathologist. One issue in my community that I’ve taken the initiative to address is the stigma surrounding mental health, particularly among teens. For many students, talking about anxiety, depression, or grief is still seen as taboo. I’ve not only experienced these struggles myself, but I also lost a close friend to suicide—something that completely changed the way I viewed mental health. That loss inspired me to take action, not just for myself, but for others who might be suffering in silence. At Newington High School, I am an active member and currently serve as president of our Stop the Stigma Club. Our goal is to create a safe space where students feel heard and supported. I’ve organized school-wide mental health awareness events, created wellness check-ins, and facilitated classroom presentations to educate students on coping tools and resources. I’ve also collaborated with the administration, holding mental health advocacy events at my school, and led conversations at local middle schools to reach students even earlier in their mental health journeys. So far, our club has reached hundreds of students, and I’ve been able to turn conversations into action. As I continue my education, I plan to continue the conversation about mental health, making it easier for others to talk about mental health. What motivates me most is knowing that small steps can have a ripple effect. My goal is to keep showing up, using my voice, and helping others find theirs too.

My name is Ava Tavares, and I’m a senior at Newington High School. In the fall, I’ll be attending the University of Rhode Island as a freshman, where I plan to pursue a Bachelor’s in Communicative Disorders, to become a Speech Pathologist. Education has always been important to me, but as a first-generation college student from a low-income household, it’s been a constant challenge to make this dream a reality. My family has faced financial struggles, especially since my dad has multiple sclerosis (MS) and the cost of treatments adds up quickly. Receiving this scholarship would significantly ease the financial burden on my family, allowing me to focus more on my studies and continue my work in mental health advocacy. If there’s one thing I’ve learned these past few years, it’s that showing up for others matters. Whether it’s through leading my school as student body president, running our Mental Health Club, or volunteering with Key Club, I’ve found my purpose in creating spaces where people feel heard, valued, and supported. My passion for mental health isn’t random—it’s personal. I’ve struggled with my own mental health and lost a close friend to suicide. That loss shifted everything for me. It made me realize how many people are silently hurting and how badly we need to talk about it. So I started doing just that—talking. Leading. Organizing events. Speaking to middle schoolers. Hosting wellness activities. Not because I had all the answers, but because I wanted to be the person I once needed. Outside of school, I’m someone who loves music, writing, and connecting with people in real, genuine ways. I’m more of an introverted extrovert—someone who enjoys being around others but also values quiet moments to reflect and recharge. I’ve always found comfort in creativity, whether it’s listening to music on repeat or daydreaming about hosting my own podcast one day. If I could start my own charity, it would be supporting those struggling with mental health. The idea behind it is simple: everyone deserves more chances—to grow, to mess up, to heal. Life isn’t linear, and sometimes we need to be reminded that it’s okay to start over. My charity would focus on mental health support for teens and college students, especially in communities that don’t have easy access to resources. There would be peer-led support groups, educational workshops, and free virtual therapy sessions. Volunteers would be trained to lead conversations in schools, check in with students, and help reduce the stigma around mental health. Most importantly, we’d create a network of support that reminds people: that you’re not alone, and your story isn’t over. Aserina Hill is the kind of woman I strive to be. Though she never finished school herself, she spent her life giving—sacrificing her limited income to help students achieve their dreams. Her legacy reminds me that change doesn’t always come from a stage or a spotlight—it often begins with quiet, consistent care. That’s the kind of impact I hope to make, too.