Articles

It’s not that hard to stick out in middle school. The unspoken code of social conduct is unyielding and inflexible. Anything outside of those narrow parameters is weird, and weird makes kids uncomfortable.

September has been a grim month. Three boys—15-year old Billy Lucas in Indiana, and 13-year olds Asher Brown in Texas and Seth Walsh in California—took their own lives after being subjected to relentless anti-gay bullying in school. And then, just one day before this miserable September ended, news came of another tragedy. This time, Tyler Clementi, an 18-year old college student, believed it was better to jump off the George Washington Bridge into the Hudson River 600 feet below rather than live through being outed and humiliated at the hands of his homophobic roommate who streamed video of Tyler’s sexual encounter with a “dude” for the world to see.

Billy Lucas grew up an Indiana farm boy in Greensburg—halfway between Indianapolis and Cincinnati, Ohio. He grew up winning blue ribbons for his prized and much loved horses and lambs. He also grew up enduring taunts, threats, and physical abuse from bullies. He grew up with those bullies telling him he should kill himself because they thought he was gay. Whether he was or not, Billy never said.

This year’s oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico was clearly a disaster for the environment. But it has also been a disaster for people, and it did not affect everyone equally.

Banning a book can go like this: An outraged parent complains about a book to the school librarian or principal. After a noisy debate, the school administrators decide that the book should be removed from circulation. Or, banning a book can go like this: A librarian receives a new book. Perhaps it shows LGBT issues or atheism in a sympathetic light. Perhaps it portrays civil rights struggles in a way that might offend some local sensibilities. Whatever the reason, she quietly puts the book in a back room. Then she politely discourages questions about it.

I was a teacher for eight years before becoming a therapist. I am currently working at two middle schools in Longmont, Colo., as a prevention/intervention specialist. Basically, my job is to provide a safe place where students can share their most pressing issues without feeling judged.

Silent Sustained Reading (SSR) is a staple of many classrooms. At my school it lives in Advisory, a 50-minute mixed-grade class that balances literacy development with study hall and school-culture building. The goal of SSR is simple: For 30 minutes twice a week the entire school population is reading silently—and enjoying it.

“Will we be learning history from a biblical or counter-biblical perspective?” James asked. I could see an intense honesty in his eyes, one that I’m pretty sure only teachers know. It was another one of those moments

A new study proves what many already suspected: Your chances of getting suspended in middle school rise dramatically if you are black. The study, “Suspended Education: Urban Middle Schools in Crisis,” was published by the Southern Poverty Law Center, the home of Teaching Tolerance.

As my 10th-grade students came back from lunch, it was clear that a few of my more squirrely young men needed time to readjust to the ways of a classroom after being away all summer. “It’s just a joke between us, Mr. Greenslate,” said Aaron. “We all know Jason from outside of school, and so that’s just how we mess around. Once you know us better you’ll understand.”