Why We’re Graduating from “Graduation”

Every day, we hear message after message telling us how to be, and who to be; what to be, and by when. We get clear (and often clearly conflicting) messages about what success looks like. It can be easy to align ourselves with these ideas without realizing that we’re doing it. Before we know it, we can find ourselves on someone else’s timetable pursuing someone else’s definition of success. 

The truth is that there is no universal definition of success. Like the ways in which we learn, the ways in which we succeed are as diverse, specific, and distinct as we are. 

Success isn’t standardized—it’s individualized. 

True success begins with understanding ourselves. Who we are today, and who we want to become tomorrow. How we live, and how we give back. From interests to impact, support needs to skill sets, the answers to these questions will be different for everyone—and that’s a good thing. 

Of everything we teach our students, self-knowledge—including identity, self-understanding, self-determination, and self-esteem—is arguably the most important subject of all. That’s why as part of IEP planning sessions, we ask all of our students about their goals, interests, and strengths. We ask about passions they want to pursue, and directions they’d like to explore. We consider which opportunities might help them to get to know themselves better. And we think together about potential careers that fit the people they are, and the futures they envision. 

By teaching our students to understand themselves—where they shine and struggle, where and how they need support, and, most importantly, what they love to do—we’re teaching them to search for the answers to these questions within themselves: to live their lives from the inside, out. 

In contrast, positioning one kind of success as better, more desirable, or more prestigious than another suggests that we are measuring ourselves—and our successes—against someone else’s progress, goals, or performance. It also suggests that the complex, evolving truth of any one of us can be plotted against a one-size-fit-all timeline.

In reality, each of our lives—each of our journeys—is individual. We’re a community, not competitors. And we believe that there are as many sizes as there are people—and as many versions of success. By surfacing and examining these unconscious beliefs, we can open up a new space that allows for things like curiosity, self-discovery, and playful exploration. We can question the constructs that support and surround external expectations and consider whether they are actually what is best for us. We become free to ask why. And we become empowered to say no. 

To celebrate different definitions of success is to celebrate different kinds of people. To validate the truth that all of our lives don’t need to look the same. And to honor the courage it takes to chart your own course—not attempt to navigate someone else’s. In a world that continually tells us that there is a right way to be, being true to yourself can feel like an act of defiance. 

Redefining what it means to succeed can be as simple as rethinking the language, framing, and actions we use to signify success. 

At OFS, we’re choosing to expand how we think about, talk about, and celebrate “graduation” to ensure both accuracy and inclusivity. In discussing the paths students take after Orchard, I realized that there was no term for students who did not graduate from OFS in the traditional sense—for example, for students who reentered public school after their time with us. Even as we taught—and fought for—every student’s right to succeed on their own terms, the way used “graduation” still unintentionally perpetuated the idea that graduating had to look a certain way—historically, completing four years of high school. Like so many words that we’ve used so long we’ve stopped examining them, “graduate” carried with it an implicit message: there is only one right way to do this. 

But the thing is, there’s not. Completing four years of high school isn’t the goal, nor is pursuing higher education or vocational training afterwards. It’s also not not the goal. The goal is, as it’s always been, is to help our students discover the path that’s right for them as individuals. The goal is to help them to ask the next right question. To rebuild their self-confidence so that they can dare to believe that what they wish for might just be possible. To support them in focused, targeted ways that help make that goal a reality. To ask, “What skills will they need? What experience? What barriers exist, and how can we overcome them?” 

We’re ecstatic when our students graduate directly to a four-year university. We’re ecstatic when they graduate to further vocational training. And we’re ecstatic when they reach a point with us that prepares them to successfully transition back to a public school. 

We’re also ecstatic when they make close friends, find the right level of independence for them, or land their first part-time job. We’re ecstatic when we graduate kind, compassionate, and engaged community members. 

To drive this message home, we’re changing the ways that we talk–and think–about graduation.

We’re expanding our definition of “graduate” to include all of the ways our students transition to the right next step for them. And we’re adding a new segment to our graduation ceremony to recognize—and share updates about—OFS students who have graduated to another school, trade program, or life milestone. 

Because life is about so much more than chasing someone else’s milestones and metrics. Building a fulfilling, sustainable, and joyful life that reflects the truth and beauty of who you are—that’s the real success. And it’s one worth celebrating.