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During the fourth week of school, the form came home, stuffed into my daughter’s backpack: Your student scored a XX on his/her DIBELS literacy test, administered this Fall/Summer. Based on this score, your child will be placed in Open Court Level XYZ [with] TEACHER A...

The trouble with Women’s History Month—with all these special months—is that they encourage people to think that problems have been solved.

A new Teaching Tolerance documentary points the way.

It was meet-the-teacher night at my elementary school. The room was ready for a new class of second-graders. The rubric for grading paragraphs and stories was on the wall around the writing center. A scientific method poster hung on the wall in the science corner. Essential questions for numbers and operations were on the chalkboard in the math area. And a picture commemorating the 50th anniversary of Brown v. Board of Education was on the social studies wall. I was ready to help my children become successful students.

A new third-grader arrives at your school. He is blind. He is autistic. He is developmentally delayed. How does your school deal with the special needs of this child?

This year is the 50th anniversary of Roald Dahl's classic children's book James and the Giant Peach. In the story, 7-year-old orphan James Henry Trotter escapes his two rotten, abusive aunts by crawling into a giant peach, which rolls, floats and flies him to a new life of wonder and love.

On a recent rainy afternoon, our 20 kindergarteners were kept indoors for playtime. I stood near a group of four children stringing beads for bracelets and necklaces. Levi explained he was making a bracelet for his daddy. The child next to him, Catherine, blurted out angrily, “I hate daddies!” Levi searched for words, looked at Catherine and asked, “Why do you hate daddies?” He repeated it a few times. “I don’t have a daddy,” Catherine replied. “I hate daddies.”

This week as the 10th anniversary of 9/11 approaches, I plan to gather my third-, fourth- and fifth-graders around me. I will tell them, "Our country is a beautiful place." I’ll keep this in mind as I think of the moments when we were clearly afraid.

I work as an instructional coach at a large, diverse and underperforming urban public elementary school. Our students are at-risk. Families are struggling with stress and trauma. Teachers work mightily to close the achievement gap. So as I left a third-grade classroom the other day after a check-in with the teacher, I wasn’t surprised when she said, “Wait, can I ask you one more thing?”