Search

Every morning at 7:15, the doors of our school open wide to a line of bus riders ready to come inside. "Hello, Jaheem. Hi, Kiara. Hey, Imani. Hope you're having a good day, Omar," I call out as the students walk past me to the cafeteria for breakfast. I stand at the doors for a moment and watch the big, yellow buses puff their diesel exhaust and chug their way to the garage until it's time for their afternoon run. Is there a more universal symbol for public schools than a big, yellow school bus?

Three weeks ago at lunch, the tenth-grade teachers met with the class "repeaters,” students who have repeated either their freshman or sophomore year. These students make us want to pull our hair out because of the many small (and not so small) ways they choose to self-destruct. One has completed two years of school and has a total of three credits. As a straight- A nerd during my own high school career, I don't fully understand how this could have happened in the first place. Regardless, the teachers called the meeting, ordered pizza, explained the purpose and discussed credits with the students in small groups. We were honest and open, explaining what their next steps are, how they can get it together and how to sign up for credit recovery.

One of the most powerful gifts we can give our children—for the future of our nation—is a college education. It may, in fact, be the most powerful gift. For so many of our country’s greatest success stories, the golden ticket that launched the inspiring life was the chance to go to college.

Leslie, a 38-year-old social worker who counsels children with stressful life situations, found her 4-year-old daughter, Sophia, engaged in animated play with her dolls. She watched incredulously as Sophia invited the four white dolls with blonde hair to a tea party while the dark-skinned doll with black hair lay alone across the room.

This toolkit for "The New Sex Ed" will help you assess the current state of sex education in your school and plan for ways to create a broader, more inclusive approach to teaching about sexuality.

A white educator shares her journey with understanding implicit racial bias in teaching.

The election is tomorrow! Are you discussing voter registration and turnout with your students?

Camilla was drawing a doll she was planning to get with her parents over the weekend. She was talking to herself in sing-song tones as she drew the doll, some of her clothes and her own house. Across the table sat Tommy; he heard Camilla talking about the doll she was about to get. He exclaimed, almost as joyfully, “Hey! I’m going to get a doll too!” The two began to chat about the types of dolls they were going to get. Across the room, another boy, busily building with blocks, said in a voice that reached across the room, “You are getting a doll?” A look of confusion spread across his face.

I recently confronted my prejudices. After teaching for many years in a low-income, high-violence area of Oakland, Calif., I decided to do some private tutoring. I sought to avoid the stress of politics in the district and the uncertainty of having a new principal every year for over eight years. Although I had outlasted all of the teachers I had started working with, I felt guilty because this was the population I wanted to serve.

My nana is laughing as she tells me one of her favorite childhood stories. As her cheeks lift into a smile, I can see the teenager who boldly told her teacher that threats to visit Nana’s parents about her behavior are ineffective. “You see,” she said, “they don’t speak any English.”