"Mira. Look."

“Mira. Look,” Maribelle* exclaimed as she tugged on her classmate’s shirtsleeve. Antonio glanced at the illustration in the book Maribelle was reading, smiled, whispered something into Maribelle’s ear, and then returned to his own book.

Their whisperings were indecipherable to me, both because of the soft tone of their voices and because they were speaking mostly in Spanish.

Yet, watching them in that moment – so engrossed in their 7-year-oldness and the new worlds they were discovering through their reading – I couldn’t help but smile. There was a lot of learning happening in Ms. Kramer’s classroom that day.

It started when the students returned to the classroom from specials (specials are the one-hour-a-day time during which students rotate through all their “elective” courses. They attend music, art, physical education, and extra academic support in math and reading one hour a week, respectively).

And it continued as students sat in eager anticipation for Ms. Kramer to tell them where they were all going to be for the next hour or so of reading lessons. She began to call out their names, one by one, letting them know what station each of them was going to be in that day. Students quietly and quickly started moving about the room, and within a few minutes the room became a buzz of reading, and cooperating, and questioning, and, well, learning.

Some students sat on a rug working on a word map, while another group of students worked with a reading specialist on a story at the front of the room with an interactive white board. A few students worked independently on lessons on the computers, while others worked with headphones and cassette players. And still others, like Maribelle and Antonio, read independently at their desks.

I had the privilege to witness all of this because Ms. Kramer invited me to come visit her classroom after a conversation about education we had had over a cup of coffee a few weeks earlier. She said, while looking down at my business card, “my school needs social justice.” She then shared that at a recent staff meeting, administration told the teachers that they must value compliance above all else – even right or wrong.

At the time she was telling me this, I wondered how Ms. Kramer could have sat through that meeting without walking out. And yet after spending an hour or two in Ms. Kramer’s classroom, it was so obvious why she hadn’t walked out of that meeting, her classroom, or the teaching profession. I think she realized that her kids need her there. Every day. To teach them. And understand them. And let them know they matter.

I think the students at this school, and schools everywhere, need teachers like Ms. Kramer – smart, and fair, and passionate about the work she does every day with the kids she is privileged enough to teach.

Because at the end of the day, teaching is a privilege. Gaining the trust and love of children, helping them to see the world in new ways, and knowing that you might have had some small part of altering a child’s life in a positive way, is a privilege.

The unfortunate reality, however, is that not all teachers take this privilege seriously. Ms. Kramer shared with me that she feels about 25 percent of the teachers at her school site are not only not helping the children learn, but are actually doing the children harm through their own apathy and lack of competence. And hearing this makes me feel a little sad for the future of education in this country.

But then I think about Arturo, the little boy in Ms. Kramer’s class, who – when I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up – looked over at Ms. Kramer on the other side of the room helping another student with a grammar lesson, then looked back at me with wonder and a smile and, without hesitation, said “A teacher. When I grow up I want to be a teacher.”

Mira. Look. There is hope.

* All names and some of the details in this post have been changed to protect confidentiality.

Three Simple Ways To Manifest Justice and Peace Everyday

If you want to be a writer, write things that matter.

If you want to be a musician, make beautiful music.

If you want to be an agent of change, manifest justice and peace.

So simple to say. So simple to do?

I think that depends on how you choose to define your life. It’s so easy to get caught up in the minutiae, the seemingly endless list of things-that-we-think-should-have-been-done-yesterday.

Yet, I believe it is just as easy to spend our days doing important work that makes a difference.

Don’t know where to start? Here’s a few (simple) things you can do today to start manifesting justice and peace:

1. Be kind to as many people as you can, every day, without question. Although there’s a fine line between being kind and being (perceived as) weak, I think it makes sense, most of the time, to err on the side of kindness. Smile more. Take the time to listen to someone else’s side of the story. Ask more questions. Be present.

2. Take a stand for what you believe in. Act now. Often times, we get caught up in the theory and rhetoric. Theory is important, but change does not come without conscious action. If you believe that literacy empowers people, then volunteer to be a reading tutor at your local elementary school or community center. Simple? Yes, of course. That’s the point, isn’t it? Sometimes change happens in leaps and bounds, but often times it starts with a simple action. Done today.

3. Listen to, believe in, and advocate for children. Children need to be listened to, honored, and advocated for. If we want a more peaceful and just tomorrow, we need to understand what our children are saying about what justice and peace look like in their worlds and in their minds. I think if we listen carefully, we will learn a lot about the future direction of our world. Is it heading in a more positive direction? If so, how can we make sure we stay the course. If not, what can we do to change things?

In what ways do you manifest justice and peace in your own daily life? Please share in the comments section below or join the conversation on Facebook. Thanks for reading.

The Changing Face of Poverty

Stop for a minute and conjure up a mental image of extreme poverty. Form the image in great detail, imagining what the people living in poverty might look like, where they live and what their lives are likely to look like from day to day.

Now, think about that mental picture.

Did your picture feature people in a particularly rundown neighborhood within an inner city somewhere – maybe in Washington, D.C., New York, Los Angeles or Chicago?

If so, you are not alone. When many of us think of poverty, we envision it being a particularly severe problem in inner cities.

And yet, the reality is that the centers of poverty appear to be shifting in America, with more low-income individuals and families now living in suburban and rural areas.

A recent study by the Brookings Institution, a public policy group based in Washington, D.C., shows that since 2008 poverty rates have increased at a faster pace in suburbs and rural communities.

And in many of those outlying areas, resources including food banks, homeless shelters and organizations that provide financial assistance such as emergency utility bill payments are difficult or impossible to find.

The social service agencies that do serve rural and suburban areas often are overwhelmed, struggling to meet the needs of people, including single mothers, grandparents caring for their grandchildren and families with children.

Their work was often difficult even before this upswing in the number of people living in poverty. And now, these agencies are finding that it is difficult to keep up with demand.

The challenge is even greater than it may appear on the surface because staff members who might be helping clients are now pushed to go out and raise money -- often asking for it from people who have seen their own financial fortunes tumble during the recession.

As advocates of educational and social justice, we need to be mindful of societal shifts. How can we ensure that individuals and families who are struggling in suburban and rural areas are better served? What challenges are unique to these areas? Who are the leaders that are effectively addressing these issues?

All these questions need to be asked – and answered. Any ideas?

"You are too smart to be a teacher."

“You are too smart to be a teacher.”

It is a comment that I repeatedly heard myself as a junior high and high school student, and it is a message that many of the students enrolled in the teacher certification courses I teach tell me they also have heard.

And often, students say they are told they are too smart for the field of education by the very people who you would expect to most fiercely encourage their pursuits – other teachers and school administrators.

Having heard so frequently about this frustrating and bewildering experience, I was not surprised to read a recently released study, which showed that the U.S. has a tough time attracting top tier students to education.

In contrast, many countries with particularly high-performing schools recruit teachers from the top 35 percent of high school graduates.

Teacher quality matters, so it makes sense that high-achieving schools would also have high-achieving teachers.

There are a few theories on why the U.S. fails to successfully draw high-performing high school students into education. Some maintain the problem is low salaries. Others say that Americans do not view the field of teaching as sufficiently prestigious. And others say that low admissions standards into education programs send the message that anyone can, indeed, be a teacher.

But beyond these reasons, it also seems clear that teachers themselves need to take the lead in advocating for their profession.

If the people who devote their days to educating and nurturing our students cannot recommend the field to other bright people, we cannot be surprised when the students with the most options shy away from teaching.

The message should not be that some students may be too bright to be teachers. The message, instead, should be that teaching is the sort of profession where our best and brightest are most needed.

Waiting for Superman: The Good News and the Bad

The recently released film Waiting for Superman will arguably be one of the most important and widely viewed education documentaries of our time.

But did director David Guggenheim get it right?

In many ways, the answer is yes – and no.

On one hand, Guggenheim does a mesmerizingly good job of reminding us why public education matters.

The movie is powerful primarily because it forces us to go beyond sweeping statistics on school failure and to look into the eyes of five children and to recognize their hopes and dreams – and how we as a society have failed them.

Guggenheim makes us care deeply about the children profiled in the film, as they and their families anxiously maneuver a complex system, desperately trying to find a way out of their failing neighborhood schools.

During a time when our national attention span is particularly short and so much of our focus is on the economy, this is certainly no small victory.

Our hope is that as people are reminded of the stories of real children trapped in failing schools, there will be a brutally honest, far-reaching public discussion on how we can work together to make all schools – not just charter or magnet schools – better.

But where Waiting for Superman falls short, unfortunately, is in the suggestion that educational kryptonite exists and fixing public education is easy – that it is simply a matter of finding good, hard-working teachers and giving them the freedom that comes with teaching in a successful charter or magnet school.

The film goes so far, in one segment, as to propose that it is not our communities that are troubled, but that our schools are actually generating the violence, poverty and other ills generally found in high-poverty neighborhoods.

This, of course, ignores the reality that many of the problems in our schools are systemic. Addressing ways to fix our schools is certainly important. But if we meet the needs of our schools without also reaching out to families and neighborhood in crisis, little long-term change is likely to happen.

The truth is that when it comes to our public schools there is no kryptonite – no magic force or formula that will instantly turn around troubled schools and communities. But working together and looking at things honestly and systemically, change can come.

And that’s not kryptonite – it’s just common sense.

"We need to come back here tomorrow. And the next day. And the next."

My five-year-old son hurled himself onto his twin-sized cot, smiling as the springs creaked under the weight of his 55-pound body.

“This has been the best night ever,” he said, recalling highlights of our evening, spent visiting with two homeless families staying the week at our church as part of a program that provides short-term shelter to families who are homeless. “I had so much fun playing with everyone.”

I tussled his brown hair and told him how proud I was of him. “You were great out there, Buddy. So patient and kind. And you really helped everyone to have a lot of fun. You should be happy to know you made them smile. We’ll have more fun with everyone in the morning.”

He looked at me, his brown-green eyes wide.

“But Mommy? I thought you said there were going to be some homeless kids here. There weren’t even any homeless kids here. Just my new friends, Matthew and Rob and Katie.” (Names have been changed for the purpose of anonymity.)

My son’s comment was unexpected, since, of course, the children we’d spent the evening enjoying were, indeed, homeless.

“Why do you say they weren’t homeless, Buddy?”

“Because they are just like me. Just kids -- kids who want to have fun and laugh and go to school and play soccer. They weren’t any different at all.”

My son’s understanding – although simplistic – hints at what many of us believe, deep down, about the homeless.

There is this sense that, perhaps, homeless people are starkly different from us. We tend to envision them as mentally ill. Or anti-social. Or perhaps just so eclectic that they prefer to spend their days bouncing from place to place, taking the handouts they can get along the way.

Dehumanizing people who go through life without basic necessities like housing, clothing and food, makes it easier for us to accept, somehow.

Of course, the real face of homelessness is the very people that we had spent the evening with - often women and their children or couples with children.

Last month, the Census Bureau released data showing that poverty in the U.S. is at an all-time high, with more Americans living in poverty than during any of the 51 years in which poverty has been measured. We also know that more than one in five American children live in poverty and one in three African-American children live below the poverty line.

It stands to reason that many of these families have been or will be homeless at some point because of their precarious financial situations.

Once my young son understood that his new friends were like him – but also without homes – his smile turned to grim determination.

“We need to come back here tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. And the next. And we need to do something.”

What, exactly, we need to do is a complex question. But understanding homeless children and families – viewing them the same way we view ourselves and our friends – is surely an important start.

Looking Beyond the Surface

Stories of cyber-bullying, sexual harassment and general cruelty between students have dominated the news these past few weeks, leaving many to question the character and empathy of today’s teens.

That is one reason that this story from Tupelo High School in Northeast Mississippi is such an encouraging one.

The students of Tupelo High School, arguably one of the most respected public high schools in the state, were able to look beyond the usual trappings of popularity and social status to elect an easy-going, soft-spoken young lady with Down’s Syndrome to be their Homecoming Queen.

The gift that Tupelo High’s students have given their community – and the world beyond – is one that we will not soon forget.

Thank you, students of Tupelo High School, for your commitment to looking beyond the surface and recognizing true beauty, integrity and grace. We all stand to learn from your example.

Focusing on the Bigger Picture: A Look at Suicide and Cyberbullying

When tragedy strikes, we often feel a driving need to explain it away. And the simpler the explanation, the more comforted we often are inclined to feel.

This appeared to be the case this past week, when online bullying made regional and national headlines after several high profile suicides, including the death of a Rutgers student whose sexual encounter was broadcast online without his knowledge.

The recent focus on cyberbullying – cruel, aggressive behavior that takes place through social media, texting and other electronic communications tools – has both advantages and disadvantages, as this Houston Chronicle article does a good job of explaining.

On one hand, it is, indeed, true that cyberbullying is a serious problem. Kids, particularly those in middle school and junior high who are struggling to maneuver a complex social landscape, have long been known for their cruelty.

And increasingly, social networking, texting and other tools, which allow bullying to occur without being face-to-face, seem to be fueling increasingly aggressive, cruel behavior.

At the same time, we also know that suicide is by no means a new problem. About 85 Americans take their lives each day. Their reasons are generally complex, often tied to a deadly mix of ills, including loneliness and isolation, family problems, strife in peer relationships and, most prevalent, mental health issues including depression.

When we hyper-focus on one potential cause of suicide, we run the risk of ignoring the bigger picture. And when we do that, some young people who are crying out for help might not see their needs addressed.

As advocates of educational and social justice, we certainly need to be aware of the latest statistical trends and current events. But we also need to remember that most social woes are systemic and cannot usually be attributed to one simple cause.

By keeping the bigger picture in mind, we are more likely to meet real needs – both now and in the future.

A Picture of Simple Beauty

Teaching was my grandma Helen's life's work. I think she developed a calling for teaching long before she went back to school at the age of 43 to earn her Associate's degree, then her Bachelor's degree, and finally her Master's degree in Education at the age of 53. And I know she remained a teacher long after she retired from thirteen years of teaching in the Special Education classroom.

My grandma taught me how to read when I was three years old. She taught me the importance of knowing where your family comes from and the value in seeing something familiar through a different lens. She taught me to never accept that the way things are in the world is the way things have to be - except in nature. Her thousands of slides - mostly taken during her and my grandpa's years of traveling the country in their little Chinook camper - illustrated her belief that nature was perfect just as she found it.

In the last ten months of her life, she had the opportunity to live with my parents and my other grandmother. She taught my grandma Shirley how to play scrabble, assemble jigsaw puzzles, and do yoga. She taught all of us that dementia might take away your memory, but it doesn't take away your will to live, to be curious, to question the status quo.

The dementia crept into her life slowly over the last decade of her life. Yet, at 86 years old, she would sit there on the edge of her chair, studying the ticker at the bottom of the TV screen, asking questions about the latest news stories - especially the ones about human suffering in other parts of the world. She would look over at me and say, again and again, "We need to DO something about this!"

I remember one phone call I received from her years ago. I think I was still in high school. She was so fired up about some political decision somewhere. I don't remember the topic. All I remember was the passion in her voice when she said, "If I was younger, I'd be out there protesting this injustice. I'd probably get myself thrown in jail." I heard that same urgency in her voice just last month - reading that ticker on t.v., wondering why we weren't getting up to DO something to change the world.

That was my grandma, intensely passionate about teaching, life, and - most of all - her family. I know that there is a lot of her in me. I think other people have long seen in me what I am just beginning to discover myself - that passion can be passed down through generations.

This work of educational and social justice is complicated stuff. And there are days when I want to give up and pretend that I don't care so much about what's happening in the world around me.

And then I hear my grandma's voice - challenging me to keep asking the difficult questions. Or I see her with her camera stooped over the smallest wildflower on the side of some narrow backroad, trying to capture a picture of simple beauty.

And I remember that as hard as this journey can seem sometimes, it's an important one - full of signs of beauty everywhere.

Finding "Your People"

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it's the only thing that ever does.” -Margaret Mead

We often talk to people who care deeply about the problems they see around them. Often, they have powerful ideas about how to improve the lives of individuals, families and communities.

But at times, these same people become overwhelmed by all the work that remains. And more than that, they become frustrated by all the people they encounter who do not share their vision.

There are people who refuse to see the social justice issues around them. Or, maybe they see them but refuse to see that they have any responsibility in being part of the solution.

What is the best response to people who are resistant to the vision of educational and social justice?

Do you invest energy arguing with them? Presenting them with evidence? Using logic to try to win them over to your way of seeing things?

There are certainly times when such strategies are important. We should use all the tools at our disposal to educate people who are within our sphere of influence.

But at other times, it seems wise to remember these words from Margaret Mead.

And instead of trying to convert those who resist, it may be wiser to effectively seek out like-minded people – that small group of thoughtful, committed citizens interested in coming together to change the world in some way, big or small.

So today, be intentional in efforts to find “your people” – individuals and groups that share your ideas and your concerns – people who speak your language. And when you find them, don’t let them go. Because together, we really can change the world.

Big Money Doesn't Always Bring Big Celebrations

Most public school teachers wouldn’t argue that $25,000 is a nice chunk of change.

So back in 2000, when I was working as a reporter and visited several Southern California schools to talk to teachers receiving bonuses of about $25,000 for boosting student test scores at low-income schools, I expected teachers receiving the cash to be downright giddy.

All I needed for my neatly planned story on the bonuses was an excited quote from a teacher or two with big plans for her state-funded windfall.

But what I got, instead, were teachers from all levels who were visibly uncomfortable with the bonuses. Some seemed angry that I was doing the bonus story, and others seemed embarrassed that they were receiving the money. Some said they planned to return it, or donate the money to a union or organization established to fight merit pay.

The few teachers that I did get to talk about the money or how they would spend it said they planned to use it to pay off student loans or to earn an advanced degree that might help them to better serve their students.

When I finally asked about this surprising discomfort, one veteran teacher explained it to me well: “Teachers are uncomfortable with this because we aren’t necessarily comfortable being singled out. We like the idea of working together for the common good, not competing against each other. We know that we worked hard at this school, but we also have friends at other schools that worked just as hard and aren’t getting a dime. The competition element of this doesn’t really appeal to us. It’s not who we are – it’s not why we got into this field.”

Considering this long-time teacher’s insights and the reaction I got from other teachers, it makes sense that a newly released study on teacher compensation seems to show that monetary incentives didn’t strengthen student performance.

The debate over merit pay for teachers will surely continue, particularly since the U.S. Department of Education just announced last week a new round of recipients under a $442 million federal program that funds merit-pay programs for teachers and principals. And it is wise for us to continue to explore a variety of options to improve student achievement, particularly in our low-income schools.

But if the teachers don’t buy into the program – if it only serves to make them uncomfortable and add to their frustration – it seems unlikely the programs will be any more effective than the ones we have already seen.