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Every morning at 7:15, the doors of our school open wide to a line of bus riders ready to come inside. "Hello, Jaheem. Hi, Kiara. Hey, Imani. Hope you're having a good day, Omar," I call out as the students walk past me to the cafeteria for breakfast. I stand at the doors for a moment and watch the big, yellow buses puff their diesel exhaust and chug their way to the garage until it's time for their afternoon run. Is there a more universal symbol for public schools than a big, yellow school bus?

There are three questions students of history should always ask: What’s the context?What’s the context?What’s the context? Yes, I know, it’s a play on the old real estate joke (location, location, location), but the importance of understanding how a quote or an event sits in terms of what’s happening around it cannot be overstated.

Last weekend, the Southern Poverty Law Center and two partners struck a legal agreement with the Anoka-Hennepin School District in Minnesota. Amid revolution in Egypt and fears of a monster snowstorm in the Midwest, this was hardly top-shelf news. But the agreement really was a big deal for LGBT students.

Like the more than 22,000 students who visit the Civil Rights Memorial Center each year, Brittney Johnson loved the fountain. The 10-year-old Montgomery, Ala., native had never been to the memorial center, even though it’s just a few miles from her house. And like most visitors she was instantly drawn to the circular black granite fountain out in front. This unique piece of architecture, designed by Maya Lin, is engraved with the names of 40 civil rights martyrs. Next to it stands a wall of water that cascades transparently over Martin Luther King Jr.’s well-known paraphrase of Amos 5:24 -- We will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

In early 1968, Martin Luther King Jr. and other civil rights leaders continued plans for a Poor People’s Campaign. It would take place in the spring in Washington, D.C. The poor and those in solidarity with them would take up temporary residence and march peacefully on the Capitol and advocate for substantial anti-poverty legislation from Congress. They would demand jobs, healthcare and decent housing.

If you’ve read To Kill a Mockingbird, you might remember the scene in which Scout beats up Walter Cunningham in the schoolyard. It’s the first day of school and Scout’s teacher, Miss Caroline, is not from Maycomb. She doesn’t understand just how hard the Great Depression has hit the farmers of southern Alabama. So she innocently offers Walter a quarter to buy lunch in town. He refuses. As Scout explains he’s a Cunningham, and Cunninghams never take anything they can’t pay back. Every student at my school is eligible for free lunch this year, so they understand Walter’s situation. But what they don’t understand is “why other students get to go off campus for lunch and we don’t.”

In classrooms all over the country, posters hang on walls bearing the face of Martin Luther King, Jr. Libraries put out displays of books about his life. Bulletin boards are decorated with phrases from famous speeches. Many will remain up throughout the school year, not just for the federal observance of King’s birthday on Monday.

A year ago, we introduced a new curriculum, Civil Discourse in the Classroom and Beyond, citing the “pressing need to change the tenor of public debate from shouts and slurs to something more reasoned.” This weekend’s carnage in Tucson, with Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords gravely injured, six people dead and 14 others wounded, is a terrible tragedy, not just for the victims and their families. It is a tragedy for a nation whose political process depends on people airing issues, managing conflict and confronting controversy in the public square.

Twitter, Google Docs and their cousins shrink the spaces between cultures even as they expand the reach of a typical classroom. How can you use them to promote social justice?

Slavery never went away, and students need to know how it affects today’s world.