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A hateful message found in a Maine classroom inspires a lesson in tolerance.

Jeanette Winterson, author and poet, once said, “Books communicate ideas and make bridges between people.” As a middle school language arts teacher, I believed in this theory but wanted to see it in action. When I suggested to my principal that I would like to organize a book club with my students and local senior citizens, he was cautiously intrigued by the idea.

When I was growing up, most of my friends’ families had a mom and a dad. A few parents were divorced and that meant stepdads and stepmoms were also in the picture. That was about the extent of family diversity in my experience. During my teaching credential program, I learned about children having two moms or two dads. I made a mental note to remember this. I have discovered that family configurations are limitless and I now work to be inclusive, aware and respectful.

Many students are constantly tied to their phones. As educators, we can tap into that interest—and students’ curiosity and desire for entertainment—to show them gateways to a wider worldview.

Adults often marvel as they watch children frolic on the playground centers. Children’s interactions appear effortless. There seem to be no barriers, no ego or self-doubt. If you want to play with someone, you simply ask him or her. It looks so uncomplicated. If a child is willing and able to partake in the fun, then there are bad guys to vanquish, princesses to be rescued and treasures to be found. A child’s imagination is the only thing placing limits on the exploration.

After rejecting an offer of prayer from a student, this teacher reflects about the power of religious freedom that she teaches in class.

Last spring, our high school performed The Crucible, Arthur Miller’s play about the Salem witch trials (also an allegory of the witch hunts of McCarthyism). It’s one of my favorite plays. Watching the performance, I was struck by the character of Reverend Hale.

The class was silent as we waited for Samuel to collect himself. It was a respectful silence that happens when everyone knows something powerful is taking place. Samuel’s elbows were on his knees, his head was down. A few tears had fallen. Our chairs were placed in a circle. A sign posted on our classroom wall read, “Every person in this community is as important as every other person.” We were in the middle of our weekly class meeting, a time when we acknowledge conflicts and work to resolve them as a group. The current topic: name-calling and disrespectful speech.