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At my school, we often call a student’s misbehavior a “poor choice.” A staff member suggested that the phrase unintentionally promotes a bias against the poor. I appreciated that insight. Wouldn’t it be much more accurate—and equally effective—to say, “That choice was disrespectful,” or “The choice you made disrupted our learning?”

A couple of years ago, I had a run-in with a parent. He had developed the habit of coming into school before the end of the day, standing outside the door of our classroom and motioning impatiently for his son, Victor, to hurry up. When I requested that he wait outside the building for his son to be dismissed, he became irate, yelled at me and angrily pulled his son out of class.

Ronjanae broke down recently. She said she felt like “the only overweight child at this school.”

Last year, our staff adopted the positive discipline approach to replace ineffective no-tolerance policies. Positive discipline is based on the practice of problem-solving instead of punishment. At its core are weekly class meetings, where students work through problems together. At the beginning of the year, teachers “train” students to present problems and offer solutions. Within this process, both teachers and students explore topics such as mutual respect, encouragement and recognizing mistaken goals. One of the biggest challenges is to shift our focus from punishment to solutions.

As a student, seventh grade was a really scary time for me. Even now, I distinctly remember the churning in my belly every morning when I arrived at school. I was crippled by insecurity when the teacher called my name in class and all eyes turned my way. School felt aggressive and frightening. Students struggled for power and to be seen as “popular.” I began to realize that my anxiety was something that made me different from the other kids.

Whenever I go into an unfamiliar school, I look closely to see what the walls tell me. I’m not just looking at signage—although that is important—but everything on the walls. A school’s “cultural ecology” is mirrored on its walls. Of course, some physical features of a school come with the territory, but the important question is, “what have they done with the place?” It starts with the halls. A building that is several decades old may feature clinical tile walls, harsh fluorescents and windowless hallways. Some buildings in that age range look like prisons, with bare, gleaming walls. Others of similar vintage shimmer with colorful student art, invite the viewer to explore ideas through posted classroom projects, or offer information for upcoming games, plays, elections, charity drives or concerts.

“I hate Jews.” That was the sentence, uttered coldly and dripping with vile undertones, from the mouth of a sixth-grader that nearly caused me to let a very powerful teachable moment slip through my fingers. Almost.