Search

They blaze into Room 309 at 8:16, sporting new t-shirts and vintage ones, silver watches and Silly Bandz, first-day-of-school garb. I hand them a yellow index card. "Write for me," I say, "Begin with, 'I am...' or 'I am not..."' Off they go, scribbling first words with their newly sharpened pencils. They despise school. They adore school. They'd like school, if only, if only, if only... Their summer? They've gone swimming with sea turtles in Hawaii. Their parents have divorced. They've been diagnosed. Or, trapped in summer school. Their beloved grandmother has died. They are 13 years old.

At the start of my career as an eighth-grade language arts teacher, it never bothered me when students were described by teachers as “low,” “middle,” or “high” as a way to label their abilities. No disrespect was meant toward our learners; it was just a fast and easy way to describe our kids and get to know them when we had so little time with them.

It’s widely understood that African-American kids—and other children of color—get fewer opportunities in life than white kids. But still, it is jarring to find that perception overwhelmingly confirmed in a survey of adults whose jobs involve helping children.

This toolkit for “Smart Tech Use for Equity” provides a template you and your colleagues can use to support all students’ learning and development with technology.

Students struggle to find a way forward after their classroom’s election.

Cyberbullying happens in code. Break it.

A high school teacher helps his students challenge their own racist beliefs.

A stunning revelation about one of his students led this educator to rethink his teaching practice.

John was in my eighth-grade class. He was a rascal and my favorite kind of student. He was rambunctious and smart as a whip. And he and his family lived in poverty. His favorite memory of middle school is when I gave him detention time after school. “Why’d I get this?” he exclaimed. “Because you’ve racked up four deductions for talking and disrupting class,” I calmly said. He looked down at the detention slip, “Well, OK then.” It’s one of our favorite stories.

During spring break, I was reminded of what a huge impact a small decision can make. I caught up on information about two former students: Richard and Patrick. They were quite similar when I had them as eighth-graders nearly four years ago. Both were over-age (16 years old) and received special education services. Both got into trouble regularly and were suspended multiple times. However, due mostly to a couple of seemingly small decisions, their lives changed in vastly different ways.