Clara Waddington wants you to talk about it

For her senior project, Clara Waddington hopes to cement the Tlingit language and culture at the forefront of the Wrangell educational experience.

She is engraving metal signs with the Tlingit translations for different English-language signs across the school. The Tlingit language signs will be hung beside the other signs, similar to the style of the Tlingit words in Wrangell IGA displayed beneath the English tags.

So far, Waddington has found direct translations for "Wrangell High School," "math" and "art." She hopes to identify more direct translations, but some of the linguistic differences between Tlingit and English make that difficult.

"It's a little bit harder," she said. "It's not like (translating to) Spanish."

To establish and identify the translations, Waddington teamed up with Tlingit language teacher Mike Aak'wtaatseen Hoyt and several local elders. Winston Davies, the school's shop teacher, is helping her make and engrave the metal signs.

In addition to the signs, she illustrated a formline design that will grace the cover of the school yearbook later this year.

Waddington's project was inspired in part by her Tahltan identity but also in part by something important to her: direct communication. She spent her high school career bouncing all over the place. Freshman year in Florida, sophomore year in Wrangell, junior year in Hawaii, senior year back in Wrangell.

"It probably wasn't what people expected," she said about the year in Hawaii. "I had to work two jobs. My sister and I had to pay rent inside a shared home. It was definitely pretty hard."

Then in November 2023, a landslide prompted by heavy rains ripped down the Wrangell hillside at 11.2-Mile. The slide claimed the lives of six people: Otto Florschutz and all five members of the Heller family. Mara Heller, 16, was Clara Waddington's very best friend.

"People texted me a lot when it happened, but when I came back to Wrangell, people started isolating me," she said. "When people are grieving, and someone passes away, it's hard. People don't want to talk about it, and people don't want to say the wrong thing."

But Waddington just wanted - and still wants - a chance to talk about Mara.

"That's probably the hardest part," she confessed. "I feel like I never get a chance to talk about the person I love."

Waddington was in Hawaii when the slide hit, but when she moved back to Wrangell, things didn't exactly go as she hoped.

"I was expecting a lot more grace," she said. "I grew up here with all these people. I can tell a lot of people avoid me and don't want to talk to me."

Her speech is direct; her clothing and style choices bold. She's decorated her skin with tattoos. The one at the base of her left wrist is a tribute to Mara. And she even admitted that she "doesn't seem very approachable."

"I'm very anti-social. But this has been very difficult," she said. "I really wish - I really wish it was different."

After graduation, Waddington is keeping her options open.

"I'm not somebody that looks that far ahead," she said.

She sees the skilled trades as a logical next step, something she said she'll probably start with. But she's embracing the uncertainty, an effort to try and balance passion with practicality.

She's obsessed with Greek mythology and fascinated by the study of psychology. A career in journalism or writing of some kind speaks to her, too. She's writing a children's book for a school project. As long as it's not math or science, odds are Waddington has at least a mild interest in it.

Where she goes after she walks across the graduation stage this May is an unknown. Either way, that little piece of Mara - inked infallibly on her left wrist - will remain beside her throughout it all.