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One Sunday morning around 6:30 a.m., I boarded the 7 train in New York City to go to Queens. Scattered throughout the car were about seven weary workers, their clothes covered in dirt. They were trying to sleep after what I imagine had been a long night of hard physical labor. I thought many were probably immigrants who had collected a day’s pay. Before the train started its journey, two very alert guys boarded wearing hoods. One stood at one end of the subway, keeping watch outside and the other immediately started going through the pockets of one of the sleeping workers. I looked around for others to step in. Most averted their eyes from the crime.

As my 10th-grade students came back from lunch, it was clear that a few of my more squirrely young men needed time to readjust to the ways of a classroom after being away all summer. “It’s just a joke between us, Mr. Greenslate,” said Aaron. “We all know Jason from outside of school, and so that’s just how we mess around. Once you know us better you’ll understand.”

I arrived to school ready for our morning staff meeting and took a seat among my colleagues. But today was different. There were about 30 student leaders joining us. As a newer staff member at the school, I had little idea of what to expect for our planned Culture Day, which was based on Teaching Tolerance’s “Mix It Up at Lunch Day.” The students were there because they were instrumental in planning and pulling it off.

I do a lot of things in my classroom to teach, manage and assess my students. Countless assignments, procedures and projects are designed to keep the academic machinery of my classroom running smoothly. But when I want to know what my students really think about the world, I ask them to write a play.

I wish I could introduce Santos to many residents in my state. Santos is a fifth-grader at my school. I want to keep him safe. He was in my classroom for the first half of second grade. His parents are migrant workers, so when the spring, summer and fall work on South Carolina farms slows and stops for the winter, they take their family to other places and look for life-sustaining employment. Over the past three years, Santos has spent part of the school years here and part away.

My student Belinda got into a fight last year. It wasn’t a prissy, slappy, name-calling fight, either. It was a reality television-worthy, punch- throwing, eye-bruising fight that didn’t end until Belinda’s opponent had ripped the weave out of her hair and waved it around in front of the student spectators.

New evidence of the bullying crisis in our schools appears daily in news reports and blogs. For some students, verbal harassment, cyber-ostracism and physical abuse are as routine as turning in homework. That’s particularly true for students who are—or simply perceived to be—gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender (LGBT).

The Anoka-Hennepin school district, Minnesota’s largest, has been in the national spotlight since last year. That’s when several students who were gay or perceived to be gay committed suicide. According to friends and family, the students had one thing in common: They had been bullied at school.

A special part of gardening with youth is not only teaching them where their food comes from but also allowing cultural exchanges to happen.

Yesterday’s U.S. Supreme Court decision could transform the lives of millions of children with disabilities. So why aren’t we talking about it?