Search

With all the talk about Cam Newton’s celebrations—and less than a week to go before Super Bowl 50—educators can take advantage of this teachable moment.

The Teaching Tolerance team had a confab earlier this week to plan ahead. Looking at a 2011 calendar, Sean Price, Teaching Tolerance’s managing editor, reminded me that the 150th anniversary of the start of the Civil War was fast approaching. Did we want to do something? My first response? Frankly, no. As a former U.S. history teacher, I suspected that the next four years will present an unending opportunity mainly for military history buffs to strut their stuff. We would, I suggested to Sean, better serve teachers by focusing on the themes that spoke to racial justice.

We were encouraged to see that the school system in Durham, N.C., last week agreed to end discriminatory practices that prevent Latino students from receiving an adequate public education.

Recently, I was in a public place with a friend when I saw a woman wearing a very creative, flamboyant outfit. Knowing that my friend would be interested, I discreetly whispered to her to look at the woman in the

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.

Twenty-eight teachers in my master’s level class silently moved en masse to the right side of the room to signify that they would teach the civil rights movement to their elementary students. In fact, most considered it negligent to ignore this historic movement that brought about the end of segregation in our country.

Persepolis helped make the case for open discussion and books reflecting a variety of cultures.

ESOL program coordinator Ann Marie Batista is a “barrier breaker” for ELL students and their teachers.

I noticed a trend several years ago. A sixth-grader tagged along with me into the school. She wanted to use a computer. “My printer is broken,” she explained. “Can I come in with you and print my assignment?” A few days later, it happened again. Only this time, another student needed to edit an essay on a word-processor.

My curls tickle my face. My fingers feverishly sort though papers. I make last-minute decisions for the day. A former student, who stops by every day, chats by my side. It’s 7:30 a.m., and I’m depending on Folgers to usher me into a coherent state when I hear this student say, “Mrs. Yahn, ever since your class last year, I just can’t stop talking. I used to say nothing in class, but now I talk all the time. You taught me that.”