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In today’s anti-government, anti-union environment, it’s important to illustrate what happens when the powerful hold all the cards. The Triangle shirtwaist fire presents an opportunity to do just that.

My curls tickle my face. My fingers feverishly sort though papers. I make last-minute decisions for the day. A former student, who stops by every day, chats by my side. It’s 7:30 a.m., and I’m depending on Folgers to usher me into a coherent state when I hear this student say, “Mrs. Yahn, ever since your class last year, I just can’t stop talking. I used to say nothing in class, but now I talk all the time. You taught me that.”

This first-grade teacher invites Broadway stars to his classroom to build students’ literacy skills in a fun and exciting way.

My colleagues thought my teaching Lord of the Flies was “perfect.” My seventh-grade class is two-thirds male. The group contains several strong personalities and many “followers,” who often mimic bad behavior. Last year, teachers struggled with this group, several instances of bullying, and a developing culture of negativity. I saw the power struggles on the first day of school and knew I had to address them early.

Man, am I just a total killjoy? I struggled today with a decision whether or not to dress up for Spirit Week. Monday was Crazy Sock Day; Tuesday, crazy shoes. Yesterday was Crazy Tie Day. All of those I could absolutely get behind. But I wasn’t so excited by the plan for Thursday—“Nerd Day.”

Persepolis helped make the case for open discussion and books reflecting a variety of cultures.

The Women’s March on Washington Youth Ambassadors are sending a message: Young people’s voices must be heard.

Growing up, no one told me that people shouldn’t be gay. My parents didn’t tell me I shouldn’t talk to kids whose parents were lesbian. My neighbors didn’t rant against the horrors of gay rights. Instead, all the people in my life encouraged me to live openly, to take people’s personalities and see the beauty in them, to smile at the adorable young couple clutching each other’s hands, no matter their gender. Love was love. I lived in a world blissfully ignorant about the cruelties of the “real world.”