When Ebony Washington was born on November 7, 1979, she had less than 16 years to live.

No one knew at first, but in a few years it was clear trouble lay ahead.

Ebony was born with the HIV/AIDS virus. She didn’t use drugs, didn’t have unsafe sex: She inherited it from her mother, Michele.

Ebony was an outgoing, fun-loving girl, and everyone who knew her loved her. Normally, such a circle would be a shrinking one as the years pass. For Ebony, it’s an ever-widening one.

For the last seven years a lot of people who never knew Ebony have learned of her story, and the horror of her illness, at AIDS Day at the New York City Lab School, where she began high school.

“She was dynamic, with beautiful almond eyes, and the other kids loved her,” says Sam Affoumado, a seventh grade special education teacher and coordinator of the AIDS Day program.

Ebony knew she had the AIDS virus when she started at Lab, but there were no symptoms at first. Late in her freshman year, she began to get sick and often missed classes.

“When she came back for 10th grade she was in a wheelchair,” says Mr. Affoumado, known in the school simply as Mr. A. “She eventually had to leave school in 10th grade and take her lessons at home. She came back for big events; she even went to a junior dance and danced from the waist up.”

But the disease got the best of her – the inevitable outcome until a cure is found – and she died May 26, 1995, during her junior year.

Lab, an 800-student school in Chelsea, started its AIDS Day program before Ebony died; since, it has dedicated every one to her memory. A huge picture of her smiling face is put on the wall in the assembly hall and staffers share stories about her.

“It’s her legacy,” Mr. A. says.

Lab started its AIDS Day program in 1995, when the then-chancellor, Joseph Fernandez, required every city high school to have six AIDS lessons a year.

Unlike most schools, Lab decided to put the lessons all into one day, suspending regular classes and focusing on AIDS education and prevention.

“No one does to the extent we do,” Mr. A. says.

The day is divided into two assembly periods – one for the middle school and one for the high school – and a series of workshops run by 30 community-based groups that deal with issues like safe sex, peer pressure, abstinence, risky behavior, sexual identity, and AIDS education for women. This year, it takes place on December 3.

“We deal with all the issues: negotiating safe sex, using condoms, abstinence, gay sex, needles, tolerance, and hate crimes,” Mr. A. says. “We separate the boys and girls for the workshops because the girls, especially, won’t say the things they say if boys are in the room.”

He says they also focus on “dispelling the myths. … One year we had a boy who said he didn’t use condoms with his girlfriend. When we asked why, he said because she had blonde hair and blue eyes he figured she was safe. There’s still this notion that AIDS only happens to certain people. It can happen to anyone.”

The school brings in guest speakers, like state Senator Tom Duane; Bill Salzman, the principal of the all-gay Harvey Milk School, and Joe Norton, of Broadway Cares/Equity fights AIDS.

Students read from selected books or poems, give a performance called “Memories of Ebony,” and sing songs like “The Rose,” “Imagine,” and “Streets of Philadelphia,” the title tune from a movie about AIDS.

The highlight of the show is a rousing performance by the Sinikithemba Choir from Durban, South Africa. All of the choir members have HIV or AIDS and one tells a personal story.

There are also museum exhibits and a small, student-made AIDS quilt with a picture of Ebony in the middle.

It’s all done with no money other than an $800 grant from Be Active in Self-Education. Parents who don’t want their children taking part in certain parts of the program, like the condom education workshop, can sign an opt out letter. “It’s usually no more than a dozen, and some of those kids are the ones that need it most,” Mr. A. says.

By the end of the day, he says, the students know more about AIDS and the world around them and more about Ebony Washington, her legacy, and her outlook on life.

“She realized that every minute counted,” he says, “and she made every minute count.”