Brooke Harris is out of a job as a Michigan teacher. But she’s not exactly sure why. All she knows is that her dismissal stems from encouraging her middle school students to raise money for the family of slain teenager Trayvon Martin. Lots of organizations are rallying not only for the arrest and prosecution of George Zimmerman, but to fundraise and defray the legal expenses Martin’s parents have accumulated just trying to bring their son’s alleged murderer to justice.

This is where good teaching came back to bite her in the hindparts: Harris initially gave her journalism students at Pontiac Academy for Excellence an editorial-writing assignment on the shooting. But the kids felt led to do more, and Harris says she asked the school's administrators if the eighth graders could pay $1 for a dress-down day, a popular fundraising tactic at schools that require uniforms.

Last summer, I went to Earth, Wind & Fire’s 40^th anniversary concert. I knew when I bought the tickets that I was going to offer myself up as a background vocalist and showgirl right from my seat. I mean, come on—it’s Earth, Wind & Fire. “Emotions,” “Fantasy,” “Let’s Groove,” “Boogie Wonderland” Earth, Wind & Fire. That’s a guaranteed party.

There were people in my section I would’ve never pinned as EWF fans. Jim from accounting, Skater Guy Bill, the lady who frowns at you when you have too many items at the express checkout. They all came on out. There was another, more important person there I never would’ve expected: my mommy. And she was right next to me, hollering out all the lyrics like Phillip Bailey was going to call her onstage for a job well done.

Alex in 'Bully'After attending a screening of the new documentary Bully, I couldn't help but sit in my seat a few minutes after the credits started rolling, assaulted by a gamut of emotions. From sadness and hope to guilt and frustration and onto feelings of compassion, thoughtfulness, and inspiration, this film will evoke that voice in your head that says, Wow, something really needs to be done.

The movie won't win anyone over on its style or artistry, but it gets straight to the heart of the matter. Director Lee Hirsch spent about a year with children who have been bullied, as well as those dealing with the tragic aftermath -- the families and friends coping with the suicides of 17-year-old Tyler Long and 11-year-old Ty Smalley.

It's heartbreaking and difficult to watch. You'll leave the theater feeling like you've been punched in the gut. But, really, that's the whole point. That's what makes this documentary so great.

There's no doubt that teens are super excited about The Hunger Games movie coming out at the end of the week. And so are younger kids -- the novel had a huge following among tweens. But can they handle the violence? After all, this is a movie about a crew of 24 kids who are thrown together for the sole purpose of killing each other! That's kind of a wild premise for a kids' movie.

Whether or not your kids can handle Hunger Games the movie is up to you and them. But we'd like to help you out a little. Here's what you can expect to see. But I can't do this without revealing a few plot points -- so fair warning, parents. Spoiler alert!

Schools should not be providing condoms to middle schoolers. This seems obvious, no? But not everyone agrees, it seems.

A school committee in Springfield, Massachusetts approved a policy that would make condoms available to kids over the age of 12 as part of a comprehensive reproductive health policy to prevent sexually transmitted diseases and pregnancy.

That is one hell of a school supply. Can you imagine this popping up on your school’s “wish list” items? I wonder, will they have to ask the school nurse for condoms? Or maybe they will put them in one of those neat little dispensers in the boys' bathroom.

It’s Ash Wednesday, a time to repent and get your spiritual game on track for Lenten season. It’s kind of hard for me to focus this year because things have been pretty tense in my household for the past couple of weeks, the longest an issue has ever had a chokehold on our little family since Girl Child was born. It started when I did a random search of her cell phone and found out, among other things, that she had called a boy at 4 in the morning — on the cell phone I bought and pay monthly for — and was exacerbated by the fact that I had peeled myself out of bed at 3 to trudge to the laundromat and wash her funky, filthy clothes while she was doing it.

It’s 3:30 in the morning and I’m at the laundromat, having a threadbare but friendly conversation with Louis, the Spanish-speaking attendant and flying through my mountain of funky clothes. Some of them I know full well weren’t dirty in the first place; instead of stashing them in the drawers or closet where they belong, Teen Girl often finds it easier to sling them into the hamper and let me send them through a round of unnecessary washing. It irks me — detergent costs as much as a freakin’ date night — but I plod through without grumbling. This time, anyway.

I’m as far from being the finished, fine-tuned product I aspire to be as a woman, much less as a mama, but I like to think I’ve been getting progressively better since October 10, 1998 for a few reasons.

It’s 12:00 a.m., and when most children are all snuggly buggly wuggly in their widdle beds getting lots of shuteye for their big days at school tomorrow, mine is still awake.

Apparently, her class got in trouble today for excessive chattiness and in a brazen show of authoritative take-that-ness, her teacher slammed them with — wait for it — 60 definitions and 60 sentences. On top of science homework and algebra equations, Girl Child’s whole night has been spent with her face stuck in a dictionary and a marble composition book leading up to now, the stroke of midnight. I am not amused.