Special. Unique. Magical.
These are some of the words use when I describe my child’s school to people who are unfamiliar with it. I agree with all of those words, especially when describing the graduation ceremony, which I had the joy of experiencing when my only child matriculated on June 12.
As with other ceremonies, there was a stage. And balloons. And a microphone. But there were no caps. No gowns. No pomp. No circumstance.
The stage, balloons and microphone were in the school’s gym, with its two-tone bright green walls and couches arranged in the shape of a C for the 106 students in the Class of 2024 to sit on, beside, or around, whatever teenagers do. Beach balls were available to volley around. There were inflatable palm trees. Teachers and some students wore Hawaiian shirts and floral dresses. There was a potluck going on upstairs.
There was no auditorium, arena or stadium seating like at graduation for the three traditional high schools in our district. For guests, 400 folding chairs were arranged behind the couches in the gym. Another 200 or so lawn and camping chairs filled in the gaps and spread to the edges of the space. This was not for the claustrophobic. People were encouraged to move around.
This was graduation at H-B Woodlawn Secondary Program in Arlington Public Schools in Virginia. H-B is sometimes referred to as Hippie High, though it is not structured like or even considered an official school. Born in 1971, H-B is small by Northern Virginia standards with about 1,000 middle- and high-school students who are admitted through a lottery system that draws sixth- through 12th-graders from across Arlington County.
At H-B, students call the teachers by their first names. Students get a vote equal to teachers and staff during weekly town meetings. The school’s motto is Verbum Sap Sat — a word to the wise is sufficient (your life is your responsibility). There is an assumption of good about students, meaning if someone is in the hallway during class, it is assumed they have a good reason to be there. The building is mostly open, allowing students to frequent the numerous nearby businesses, including a corner 7-Eleven that is practically on the urban campus.
Each student has a TA, a teacher-adviser who is also like a homeroom teacher and a school counselor in one. All full-time teachers — including the school’s principal and two assistant principals — serve as TAs to a mix of students across grades. Students rank their preferred TA each year. There is a period for the TA class, which looks different depending on the teacher.
During graduation, each TA calls their seniors to the stage to talk about them. Many of the educators have known these students since they were sixth-graders — that’s seven years! The familiarity makes a huge difference. The teachers can do more than just pronounce names correctly — an issue at some graduations that has been in the news – and teach students about a subject. They are mentors, supporters, guides and cheerleaders for each student — real relationships.
Positive relationships with teachers have been the secret sauce for my student, who has autism spectrum disorder, ADHD and anxiety. Early elementary school had been a nightmare for varied reasons, including punitive responses that only worsened my child’s obvious challenges. My student responds to positive behavioral supports and interventions, something that was lost as the elementary school’s leadership tried to assert its authority and control. The punishments, like denial of recess, caused my student to become depressed and suicidal in second grade. After a hard-fought move to another school, my child recovered from the trauma and thrived while building positive relationships with the adults there who were ready and willing to help. One of those teachers is now retired. He was invited and attended graduation to support my student.
Moving to H-B for sixth grade meant connecting with different teachers and staff. We all worried. What would they be like? Will they work with us? Will they get it? The short answers — awesome, yes and yes. H-B was built on positive relationships and mutual respect.
Mike, my senior’s TA, is a great example of what it was like, including endless patience with our lengthy examination and wordsmithing of the IEP prior to agreeing to sign. Mike is a special-education teacher who has worked with my child and served as the Individual Education Program case carrier throughout high school, including the COVID ninth-grade year that was spent learning online. Mike’s words during graduation make it clear that he sees and hears my student. Mike mentioned my 12th-grader’s love and care for others, passions for computers and music, and the yellow rain boots that were worn every single day for many years. He also noted the “Boots 2.0,” black combat-style boots.
Through my tears, I could barely see the principal deliver a folder and a handshake to my 17-year-old, who also received a dollar store-green and white lei around the neck.
This process repeated itself to include all 106 students in the H-B Class of 2024. After about three hours, the teachers and staff gathered on the small stage as two teachers played their acoustic guitars. They serenaded their students with “Time of Your Life” by Green Day.
Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test, and don’t ask why
It’s not a question, but a lesson learned in time
It’s something unpredictable, but in the end is right
I hope you had the time of your life
Then they sang “Feet of a Dancer” by Maura O’Connell.
I hope you find the feet of a dancer
I hope you can sing in the rain
I hope you find all the easy answers to your pain
And I hope you find love and affection
And someone who’ll care
I hope you find all the right directions everywhere
Everywhere
Everywhere
Always remember that we’re here
My teenager’s opinion of the event — “I thought it was more personal than a big ceremony in an arena like the other high schools. I liked not having to wear a cap and gown because that’s not my style. I could just be me instead of everyone looking the same at graduation. Looking the same isn’t really H-B.”
H-B is not perfect because there is no perfect school. But H-B was the perfect place for my 17-year-old, who will miss everything about it — except for the stairs. There are a lot of stairs. Seriously, I know how fortunate we are to have experienced this amazing place for the last seven years and this special, unique and magical graduation to launch my high-schooler into the future.
Thanks for everything, Hippie High. We’ll miss you.
Trigie Ealey is an editor for SmartBrief Education.