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I held up the front page of our college newspaper and asked my first-year journalism students if any questions came to mind as they looked at the photographs of candidates running for president and vice president of our student government. It’s a multimedia storytelling class and the assignments for the week were about analyzing and taking photographs.

We each have a part to play, a role uniquely ours each day. I’d raised my hand often enough and spoke about equity and LGBT rights during my years in Minnesota’s Anoka-Hennepin School District to convince myself I was accomplishing the role I’d chosen when I decided to teach.

When students express outrage over the “rape culture” in another country, the teacher brings the discussion closer to home for further exploration.

A pair of news stories this week reported that students were being silenced and punished when they attempted to speak up for others. This is disappointing.

After the Southern Poverty Law Center responded to a plea for help from students in Savannah, Tenn., we’re happy to report that students successfully wore pro-LGBT slogans at school last week without resistance and with mostly positive responses from classmates.

In 1967 the Supreme Court ruling on Loving v. Virginia went a long way toward making marriage a right that more Americans could exercise. In Loving, the court decided that laws prohibiting African Americans and white Americans from marrying violated the Constitution. The Loving ruling said, among other things, “Marriage is one of the ‘basic civil rights of man,’ fundamental to our very existence and survival.”

In the years since they graduated from middle school, several of my former students earned the prestigious rank of Eagle Scout. I was proud of them. I read their stories in the local paper and was inspired by the various ways in which these young men improved our community. Each time, their accomplishments and selflessness impressed me. Earning the highest rank in Boy Scouts of America is an admirable achievement.

A family of four came to speak to my high school juniors and seniors. Two dads and their 16-year-old daughter and 17-year-old son talked about their family, the adoption process and their experiences with discrimination and prejudice.

After teaching a particularly grueling class, I looked forward to the solace of my 55-minute planning period. I started to organize the black hole that is my desk and found a folded piece of notebook paper with my name, Ms. Samsa, hastily scrawled onto it.