Arlington Career Center | 816 S. Walter Reed St. | Arlington, VA | 22204

ACC Chronicle

ACC Chronicle

Arlington Career Center | 816 S. Walter Reed St. | Arlington, VA | 22204

ACC Chronicle

Mystery Revealed: Techs Valedictorian
School News
Mystery Revealed: Tech's Valedictorian
Lydia Blackwell, Staff Reporter • April 26, 2024

With fewer than 50 days to graduation, everyone’s wondering who Arlington Tech’s valedictorian is, the person with the highest grade point...

The Artificial God
Creative Writing
The Artificial God
Hetty Fontaine, Guest Reporter • April 26, 2024

You have created a god Summoned by a ritual of your own design With bones of ancients And oils cracked It rises It shall remain...

24 with ‘24: Tadashi Dodge
24 with '24
24 with ‘24: Tadashi Dodge
Lydia Blackwell, Staff Reporter • April 24, 2024

24 with ’24 is a Chronicle series where we ask 24 questions to a member of the class of ’24. Between now and June, we’ll shine a spotlight...

The Equity Team
DEI at ACC
The Equity Team
Isabella Chavez, Guest Reporter • April 24, 2024

At Arlington Career Center, teachers and students are able to work with one another to create numerous clubs and programs in order to diversify...

Nature is a Puzzle
Creative Writing
Nature is a Puzzle
Marin McCormack, Guest Reporter • April 24, 2024

We tend to take nature for granted. We look at our phones, scrolling through social media like zombies. Entranced by the constant dopamine hits...

The Importance of Learning Black History

The+Importance+of+Learning+Black+History

I was born in New Orleans, in the Deep South, in the early 1960s, white. My generation learned nothing about Black History. We were told not to go in certain neighborhoods, or speak to people we did not know, if they were of a different color. I was fortunate – my father was a musician, so he was more open-minded. But the place, the time, the entire bubble I lived in, was not. As an adult, I found out there was a whole other history I had never learned or really known about. I took a trip to Mississippi and Alabama in 2020 and 2021 and I spent all of my time in “those neighborhoods.” My eyes opened to the reality that there were people who had few rights, few privileges, few opportunities, all things I took for granted. I looked at broken down buildings and collapsing structures not as blight, but as places that did not have the money or the civic support to continue. I went to towns that had almost nothing that I would consider necessary for a town to have, yet people lived there, and made their existences meaningful. I saw a lot of churches. I am not religious myself, because, in the course of my life, I have come to see things differently from how I was taught. But I looked in these churches and saw people singing, hoping for better times, enjoying the fact that they could be themselves, and I saw the draw for them. 

I saw sights and heard sounds that amazed me. The cotton gin fan that was tied to Emmett Till’s body. A woman in my father’s hometown who said that the History of Civil Rights Museum made her “skin crawl.” People who looked in my back seat and saw all the books on Mississippi and Alabama, but not from the point of view they had. I am not unusual or special. I am just a learner, and I learned that these stories need to be told, until everyone knows them. Every person of my generation needs to make the trip I did, if only in their mind. They need to see why the trajectory of events in our country has not happened in a vacuum. 

I love history and the lessons it teaches. Even if they are painful and sad.