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From the fights about the teaching of evolution to the details of sex education, it may seem like American schools are hotbeds of controversy. But as Jonathan Zimmerman and Emily Robertson show in this insightful book, it is precisely because such topics are so inflammatory outside school walls that they are so commonly avoided within them. And this, they argue, is a tremendous disservice to our students. Armed with a detailed history of the development of American educational policy and norms and a clear philosophical analysis of the value of contention in public discourse, they show that one of the best things American schools should do is face controversial topics dead on, right in their classrooms. Zimmerman and Robertson highlight an aspect of American politics that we know all too well: We are terrible at having informed, reasonable debates. We opt instead to hurl insults and accusations at one another or, worse, sit in silence and privately ridicule the other side. Wouldn’t an educational system that focuses on how to have such debates in civil and mutually respectful ways improve our public culture and help us overcome the political impasses that plague us today? To realize such a system, the authors argue that we need to not only better prepare our educators for the teaching of hot-button issues, but also provide them the professional autonomy and legal protection to do so. And we need to know exactly what constitutes a controversy, which is itself a controversial issue. The existence of climate change, for instance, should not be subject to discussion in schools: scientists overwhelmingly agree that it exists. How we prioritize it against other needs, such as economic growth, however—that is worth a debate. With clarity and common-sense wisdom, Zimmerman and Robertson show that our squeamishness over controversy in the classroom has left our students woefully underserved as future citizens. But they also show that we can fix it: if we all just agree to disagree, in an atmosphere of mutual respect.

Addison had always thought when she said, "I do" two years ago that it'd be forever. Madly in love, things were going along fine, great even, until she found out her husband was keeping secrets from her. Unable to deal with that on top of everything else in her life, she packed her bags and headed home to her parents. Bryce had been called a lot of things in his life, most of them he wouldn't repeat. One thing he's never been called was a quitter. He'd proven time and time again that when he set his mind to something, he succeeded at it. It might take some persistence and a little hard work, but he never gave up until it paid off. Bryce knows one way or another he was getting his wife back. He'd have to fight harder than he ever had before, but he'd do it for Addison, for them. He'd play dirty if he had to because he wasn't going to lose. He was playing to win.

Everybody thought they knew Wil Harris. His face had been splashed around the media for years, but that’s the price that came with being in the hottest band out there. Words like fun, party animal, and even shy floated around, but the only person who really knew him was the woman on the other end of a dating website. Her only rule was not to be lied to, and he’d used up his only free pass. When she found out Wil had answered her on his brother’s account, she’d drop him flat. Even his fame wouldn’t be able to save him. Wil knew he needed to tell her the truth. Instead he kept his mouth shut because as the months passed, he became addicted to finally being seen for who he really was. Everyone else might only get the cover version of his life, but someone out there had his heart. He just hoped when she found out he was Wil Harris, member of Innominate, she wouldn’t swipe left.

The Art of the Woman explores the life of German-born Elisabet Ney, a flamboyant sculptor who transfixed the philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer and left the court of the half-mad Ludwig of Bavaria to put down new roots in Texas. Born in 1833, Ney gained notoriety in Europe by sculpting the busts of such figures as Ludwig II, Schopenhauer, Garibaldi, and Bismarck. In 1871 she abruptly emigrated to America and became something of a recluse until resuming her sculpting career two decades later. In Texas, she was known for stormy relationships with officials, patrons, and women’s organizations. Her works included sculptures of Sam Houston and Stephen F. Austin and are exhibited in the state and US capitols as well as the Smithsonian. Emily Fourmy Cutrer’s biography of Ney makes extensive use of primary sources and was the first to appraise both Ney’s legend and individual works of art. Cutrer argues that Ney was an accomplished sculptor coming out of a neglected German neoclassical tradition and that, whatever her failures and eccentricities, she was an important catalyst to cultural activity in Texas.