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Trevor Barton

Tears streaming down her cheeks, the student said her dad had been arrested. As a teacher, what can you do in that moment when you need to be teaching students what they need to know? Then, something astonishing happened. […] Read More

Over half my elementary students are from Mexico, Central America and South America. They feel the political winds blowing against them. As long as folks refuse to understand them, these 9- and 10-year-olds rarely feel kindness. […] Read More

Most of my fourth-grade students come from economic poverty, and few have had experience with books and reading. One of the best parts of being a teacher is opening up their world to the great stories found in books. […] Read More

Dear Public Schools: You are a place where people who look different and think different and act different and believe different can come together every day to be together and learn together and learn to be together. […] Read More

Six out of 10 students at the school where I teach in South Carolina are from the countrysides or inner cities of Mexico, Central America and South America. Many of them are like Paola, a first-grader from El Salvador who lives in a small apartment with her grandma, mom, sister and uncle. She is a […] Read More

My shoes thumped the city sidewalk, pounding out the rhythm that runners make as they use their feet to travel from one place to another. I was close enough to the end of my three-mile run and far enough from the Charlotte Ballet building where my son, Zeke, was dancing so I slowed down to […] Read More

Jesse Owens placed the notion of white supremacy under the worldwide microscope in the summer of 1936 by winning the gold medal in the 100-meter, 200-meter, 4×100-meter relay and long jump at the summer Olympics in Nazi Germany. Franklin Delano Roosevelt was on his way to winning 60.8 percent of the popular vote and 523 […] Read More

Virgil Morrison Jr. was a 68-year-old man when I met him. Everyone called him “Junior,” but there was nothing junior about him. He was 6-foot-5 and weighed 300 pounds. He smiled an endearing, toothless smile. His feet were size 16, his shoes looked like boats. He was balding, with clumps of white hair on the […] Read More

We set out first thing one morning to check on the ripening fruit. It was early summer when more and more tomatoes were changing from shades of green to shades of red. When you are a farmer, there is thankfulness deep inside of you when the growing is almost done and the harvesting is about […] Read More

On my best days, I am quiet. “You have two ears and one mouth,” said my grandpa one day as we walked together down a row of tomatoes. “So you should listen twice as much as you speak. You might learn something if you listen.” I looked into his watery blue eyes. Watery with memories […] Read More