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The case of the absent social studies teacher

It was one of those crisp New York autumn mornings when a student came to see me after class, her eyes big and watery. I was two months into my first year of teaching, so this didn’t come as a surprise; I had learned during that time that middle schoolers cry more than you’d expect. Bullying, dances, boyfriends, field trips, a rumor passed around in a note…it isn’t easy being thirteen. It’s even harder being thirteen in the South Bronx.

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A victory at the wall

Session has ended and winter is coming. But before the white ravens announcing the end of summer arrive, let’s reflect on the black raven that came from Albany with news of this session’s victories at the wall and downstate in the five kingdoms of NYC.