Articles

Every time a new study is released showing black students are suspended at far higher rates than any of their peers, the public seems shocked. Words like “race” and “school to prison pipeline” and “discrimination” find their way into headlines—and then the issue fades away yet again.

We know little about the motives of the gunman who opened fire yesterday in a Sikh temple in Oak Creek, Wisconsin. Many of us will monitor the news during the day, hoping to learn more about what the shooter thought he was doing, sure to hear more about the heroism and horror inside the building.

The e-mail message was direct and devastating. One of our fourth-graders had been killed in a gun accident. “Davius had gone to a friend's house to play and apparently a gun was discharged and the bullet struck him,” my principal wrote. “He died at the scene." I sat in stunned silence. A memory of a story Davius wrote for me in November flashed across my mind.

Students who don’t see well don’t learn well. There may be a place to buy eyeglasses in every mall, but for many children, a visit to the eye doctor is a rare event. These children struggle with undiagnosed or untreated vision problems because they don’t have access to screenings or treatment.

At my school, we often call a student’s misbehavior a “poor choice.” A staff member suggested that the phrase unintentionally promotes a bias against the poor. I appreciated that insight. Wouldn’t it be much more accurate—and equally effective—to say, “That choice was disrespectful,” or “The choice you made disrupted our learning?”

Sonia is a quiet girl with a shy smile who never raises her hand in my class. Recently, she told me that she is bisexual. Sonia shared this during a conflict resolution meeting conducted for her and another girl in the class, Katie. She had a crush on Katie and had been pursuing her through frequent text messages. Sonia had persisted even though Katie had made it clear she only wanted to be friends. At the end of our meeting, Sonia agreed to stop texting Katie. By the end of the day they appeared to be friends again.

This week reminded us of two pioneering women in aviation. The nation mourned the death of Sally Ride, the first American woman in space. At the same time, many of us celebrated the 115th birthday of Amelia Earhart.

As teachers, we hear almost daily that we “must meet the students where they are.” It is a core tenant, a sacred truth offered as a key to successfully unlocking the hearts and minds of even the most reluctant learners.

My ninth-grade Spanish students resisted my assignment to write about their cultures. “My family doesn’t have any cultural traditions,” one said. “My culture is that I’m just normal,” added another. “I don’t have a culture,” said another.

Ms. Simmons had two first-grade boys by the arms. “Fighting in the bathroom,” she said. “Send them home.” It’s the second week of day camp hosted at our school. The policy is strict: Two strikes and you’re out. On the one hand, it makes sense. It’s summer camp. Camp should be safe and enjoyable for all children. It’s hard to feel comfortable when you’re worried there might be a fight. There’s no mandate for children to be here. It’s optional and a privilege.