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Watching a television program featuring deaf and hard of hearing characters changed this teacher’s perspective. She wants to pass it on to her students.

When LFJ’s manager for teaching and learning—then a fifth-grade teacher—shared his personal story about the 9/11 attacks with his students, a fascinating, in-depth conversation about narrative writing occurred.

I am intellectually aware of Paola’s poverty. Nine out of 10 students at our school come from families whose income level meets the federal poverty guidelines. Paola, an immigrant from El Salvador, is one of them. The first-grader lives in a small apartment with her grandma, mom, sister and uncle. Combined, the adults earn less than $26,170 a year.

This teacher used her writing class to help students become more aware of the advertising’s role in defining beauty.

Each year, as the anniversary of 9/11 approaches, I feel a twinge of trepidation. My students don’t remember that horrible day. It’s not on their radar. I struggle with balancing wanting to honor those who lost their lives and the heroes of that day with the need to respect the innocence and hope of my students. Reconciling these conflicting emotions is always tricky.

We all have a responsibility to educate, counsel, organize and demonstrate so that no LGBTQ youth feels life is not worth living.

More than half the students in my middle school receive special education services or some extra help for academics or behavior. We polled our student leadership to find out the biggest issues in school. They said, “Cliques.”

Something was different at the school cafeteria. The menu included a vegetarian meal of elbow macaroni with cheddar cheese and broccoli. There was also a choice of a 100-percent-beef burger (without pink slime!) on a whole-grain bun. And there was ginger-carrot soup, whole-grain breads, leafy green salads, black beans and shredded cheese.