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As I head back to the classroom, I think about the last school year. In the second-to-last week of school, my fifth-grade classroom was 90 degrees, with no air conditioning. My students were sitting together, helping each other, laughing, struggling and having fun. At the beginning of the year, they were unsure of each other. They smiled politely but kept to themselves or the friends they knew and never asked for help. So what had changed?

Walter Sherrill made chemistry cool. He was the sort of refined man who seemed to glide across a room. His voice never rose above a quiet tone, and he wore a mostly stern expression on a peaceful countenance as he explained scientific equations. I cherished the rare times he smiled—or on occasion—chuckled at the ludicrous conclusions of his high school students.

I asked a small group of second-graders what they would like to find inside their mailboxes. That was after we read a story about a goose who opened her mailbox and found a kite. I expected to hear answers of things: video games, toys or basketballs. But the first student who raised her hand looked at me with sincere, big brown eyes and said, "I'd like to find a letter from my dad." In my classroom, my kids say the profoundest things.

Longest river The Nile River of Africa is 4,160 miles, or 6656 km, long -- the longest river in the world. Its waters drain 1/10 of the area of Africa, including parts of present day Egypt, Sudan, Ethiopia, Uganda and

The events of this week have made it clear: It’s time to bring genocide and Holocaust awareness lessons back into the spotlight.

Teachers can increase student engagement by consulting with small groups of students about their classroom experience. When students see their ideas being put into action, they become more invested in their education.

From now on, when we talk about women’s history, the Women’s March should be part of those lessons. Here’s why.

In this fourth-grade teacher’s classroom, a long lineup of U.S. presidential faces is tacked on the wall. She reflects on how a new president will soon gaze down on her students.

It was Black History Month. I was working with children and youth in an after-school program in the Clarksdale housing projects in Louisville, Ky. Spike Lee's film Malcolm X had just been released. I sat around a table with a group of teenagers discussing Alex Haley’s Autobiography of Malcolm X and James Cone’s Martin & Malcolm & America.

An LGBT student’s gratitude reminded this instructor to include diverse voices in her teaching all year.