In January, a fire burned a lot of Los Angeles. One of our students—and five of her closest friends—lost their homes. First COVID. Now this.
I thought about donating, volunteering, or offering services. But what I saw out there made me sick. Adults with sad puppy eyes and try-hard energy, handing out wordy brochures with words like “nurturing” and “overwhelmed,” talking at students and families. Denying their strength through unrealized condescension. It wasn’t value—it was virtue signaling. Even if the intent was good, the adults-can-fix-you energy wasn’t vibing.
So I tried something different.
I booked the nicest conference room at NeueHouse Venice—and gave the six girls the keys so they could do online school at Pali together. No other programming. No fluorescent lighting. Not even me. Just croissants, sparkling water, exposed brick, north-facing light—and trust. Trust that the environment was aspirational and beautiful enough to do the babysitting, and that students would rise to the level of autonomy they were given. I only communicated with them through their Venmo requests for parking.
From January through April 2025, they made it theirs, on their own cadence, once or twice a week. They booked time with staff. Took ownership. Integrated into a space normally reserved for entrepreneurs closing seven-figure deals. Had near-perfect attendance weekly. And made it feel like it was built for them. Note: these were second semester seniors.
The room reminded me what education should actually feel like: Not programming. Not metrics. Just space. Autonomy. Community. Breathing room.
That moment reset Ashland.
We still tutor online, one-on-one. That’s not going anywhere. But this summer, we’re doing something that reflects what The Room did. My interactions with the group may have been limited to Venmos, but they inspired me, and inspired what we’ve become.