literacy
A young boy reads a Bible. Samantha Sophia via Unsplash.
Joshua was one of the star students in his Sunday school class at a Black Baptist church he and his family attended; his teacher raved about Joshua’s helpfulness and engagement. But when it came to preschool, Joshua’s parents were perplexed.
“Every day the preschool teacher has something negative to say about [him,]” Joshua’s father later told researchers.
Boy reading a book, Valeriy Lebedev / Shutterstock.com
In Roald Dahl's classic children's book James and the Giant Peach, 7-year-old orphan James Henry Trotter escapes his two rotten, abusive aunts by crawling into a giant peach. The peach rolls, floats, and flies him to a new life of wonder and love.
I'm reading this book aloud for the first time, and my listeners are spellbound by the story, especially the part where the very small old man opens the bag filled with magical crocodile tongues that will help a barren, broken peach tree grow fruit as big as a house.
"There's more power and magic in those things in there than in all the rest of the world put together," says the man.
There is.
Photo: Child sitting on stack of books, olly / Shutterstock.com
Editor's Note: Over the next two weeks, Sojourners is celebrating our teachers, parents, and mentors as children across the country head back to school. We'll offer a series of reflections on different aspects of education in our country.
My elementary school is a Title I school. About 97 percent of our students qualify for free and reduced lunch and Medicaid. Research shows us that many children raised in poverty struggle to learn to read. 
Common sense tells us that children who don't learn to read can't read to learn. They often reach a frustration level with school by the time they're in the third grade. According to the U.S. Department of Education, 70 percent of low-income fourth-grade students can't read at a basic level. I often wonder, "What can I do in my day-to-day work as a teacher to help?"
On the crest of that hill, mourning the violence Kabul had suffered, I stumbled upon a patch of vibrant wild tulips growing at my feet, and was reminded that, even in this place of bloodshed, beauty and life returns.
Today, may we remember the life, hope, and courage that remains in Afghanistan.