There's a secret game we play in the staff lounge called, ''see how badass I really am.''  It's a place of machismo, where teachers boast about holding kids accountable and *** about angry parents.  What happens is this: I say something like, ''I can't believe they are letting that kid go to the eigth grade promotion after he ditched for ...

For the last two weeks, students in my class have explored multiple facets of the Palestinian-Israeli Conflict.  They have analyzed sources for bias, posed intelligent questions, created metaphors for the conflict and developed solutions.  I admit that it is idealistic to assume that 8th graders can solve the world's problems in two ...

''It's a sun,'' a girl explains without offering even a concise explanation for her metaphor of the Palestinian-Israeli Conflict. ''I'm not sure I'm seeing the connection,'' I prod carefully, placing the blame on myself rather than suggesting that she might not understand the concept of metaphor. ''It's like this. The sun devours everything. It ...

A small crowd of ten students gather in my classroom for our monthly movie night.  The name is a bit of a misnomer.  The movie actually runs from 4:45-5:15, but ''Monthly Movie Late-Afternoon/Early Evening'' sounds convoluted.  I guess most lies are borne of convenience more than anything.  We watch ''Salt of the Earth,'' a ...

Sometimes on a rough day, when I'm feeling more insecure than usual, I play a little game.  It's so subtly manipulative that it seems benevolent.  Unlike the more obvious put-downs or the fishing for compliments, I almost subconciously try and build a mini-monument to myself.  We're in the classroom painting the mural and when we ...

Last night, we showed a video of the IMPACT program to our school board. To my surprise, allowing the children to tell their viewpoint on the program was the most powerful feature of the presentation.  One of the board members was in tears and the audience's eyes were glued to the images of students painting murals, doing community service, ...

Our school is like a prison.  From the uniforms to the bland walls to the security cameras and the cafeteria food.  The average student is told what to do at all times - when to eat, when to pee, when to play (but not too rough), what to say, when to speak, when to write, what to copy down from the board.  In a littany of commands ...

Sometime around fifth grade, the teacher energetically rolled out a huge map of the United States.  ''By the end of this unit,'' he began (I didn't even know what a unit was) ''you will know the capital of every one of these states.''  Students gasped in shock.  ''The crazy part is that it's going to be fun.''  He was right . . ...

When I was a child, our school would parade around the hometown heroes to give their well-rehearsed ''stay in school'' speeches, rife with truisms and cliches, like ''go out and give a hundred ten percent'' and ''you can be anything you want to be.''  I never understood the connection between the quadratic formula and throwing a ball into a ...

My son is recovering well from his surgery.  I'm not recovering as well.  I didn't expect that going to a children's hospital would move me so much emotionally.  I keep thinking of a four year old boy who was wearing a helmet, pushing a walker and falling to the ground.  Or the girl who was missing her left leg and who was ...