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In the course of the day, sometimes, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of choices and decisions to be made, I miss the big moments. Take a day last fall. We were coming from lunch when I noticed that Brendan was crying. “Malia, why is Brendan crying?” I asked. “Oh, he’s sad that his caterpillars got let go,” she said.

This semester at Roger Williams University I asked my freshmen interdisciplinary students to reflect upon three important questions: Who am I? What can I know? What should I do?

A research-based approach for strategies of care that educators, parents and caregivers can practice when teaching honest history or engaging in difficult conversations.

Ava, an 8th-grade student in my after-school creative writing class came to me to discuss a story she was working on. She was writing a fictional story about a gay teenager who struggles with his sexuality and coming out. Even early on in the process, I was impressed with her ability to look at this story as a complex study in understanding—giving a voice to, and respectfully exploring, the conflicts of a gay teen.

By the 171st day of school, even a dedicated and enthusiastic teacher like me is pretty sure I am immune to being moved or motivated in any sort of way. I am mechanically and somewhat maniacally moving toward the soul nurturing, patience restoring and creativity refueling station we know as “summer vacation.” My fuse is short. I have an overwhelming need for order, structure and control in the classroom. Final exams, deadlines for grades and year-end papers are due.

Too often, lesson plans surrounding Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s legacy fail to move beyond “I Have a Dream.” These classroom suggestions acknowledge the depth and complexity of the movement he helped to lead.