[teacher.story.smith] Provided by: GLSTN 122 West 26th Street, Suite 1100 New York, NY 10001 USA Tel: (212) 727-0135 Email: glstn@glstn.org Web: http://www.glstn.org/respect/ PRIVATE CONVERSATIONS by Patty Smith, Middle School French Teacher, The Pike School, North Andover, Massachusetts "Let's focus on the positive aspects of being out in our schools," we said, "instead of always talking about the difficulties we face, or the problems we cause." We were the steering committee, planning the third annual GLSTN (Gay and Lesbian School Teachers' Network) Conference, in Milton, Massachusetts. "Celebration and Challenge", we were calling it. I volunteered to be one of four teachers who would speak at the opening plenary, "Celebration: The Contributions of Lesbian and Gay Teachers." "I'll do it," I said. "If you need someone else." A woman. Elementary school. "O.K.," the others approved. But I felt like an impostor. At Pike, I came out slowly. To my friends there first. And to the administration under difficult circumstances. I am not one of the brave ones. I have not changed curriculum or come out at an all-school assembly. There is no Gay-Straight Alliance at my school. No new policies that recognize same-sex spouses. We do not celebrate National Coming Out Day. "What'd I get myself into?" I moaned. "What'll I say?" "You'll do fine," Cindy told me. My girlfriend, she is not even a little objective. "But the other three," I say. "They're practically famous! I've done nothing compared to them!" For weeks, I think about my positive contributions. I even ask my Head of School for advice. My influence, I finally decide, has been with individuals. With administrators and faculty. In private conversations. "You are," my Headmaster told me, "a valuable member of this faculty. You are," he said," a good French teacher." "Your greatest contribution to this school," he continued, "is in your role as French teacher." What I heard was - being a lesbian is not important. "Wait a minute," I wanted to say. "I don't think you understand. What you get is a package deal." A former student had confided in me about an abusive parent. She ran away from home and called me in the middle of the night. "But the other thing is," I had said to my Headmaster, "you need to know I'm a lesbian." I had come out to this student. I wanted the administration to know in case the school was contacted by the girl's parents. The call never came. The French teacher-lesbian sits in a faculty meeting. "She is becoming so much more feminine," a colleague says. "Isn't that wonderful?" We are speaking about one of our students. "It could be," I say. "It depends." Is it better to be feminine? Our dress code would suggest that. We are sending our girls a message. I move onto safer terrain--my French class. "That's so gay," I hear one student say with disgust to his buddy. "I hate that." I don't know what they are talking about. "What do you mean, 'it's gay'?" I ask. 'You know--gay," he says, as if the hidden meaning is blatantly clear. Students are filing in. They whisper to each other about what has happened. They look at me and wait. "Didn't he know? Ms. Smith hates when you use that word." I hear one of them say. "Why do you use the word gay?" I ask. The kids roll their eyes. They have heard this one so many times now. "What is it that you mean? What were you talking about?" A picture. A movie. Something that has happened at recess. It doesn't matter. It is dismissed as gay. By now, class has begun. But the Lesbian-French teacher can't yet launch into her "bonjour! ça va?" She is a precise user of language, after all. Just what does gay mean to her students? "That's funny," a colleague says at lunch when I retell the story. "I never notice them saying that." "They do," I say. Gay. Fag. "But from me, they get a talk each time." "They're just words," another offers. "The kids don't know what they mean." "Like nigger? It's a word, too. Once upon a time, we didn't know what it meant." "Hmmmm," they say. A year later, I hardly hear the words gay and fag anymore. It gives me courage. I go back to the Headmaster. I tell him I want to come out to the kids. We should be pro-active, I say. Faculty first, he says. He wants to go slowly. I am restless, but I agree. "You know," he says, "if I had known seven years ago that you were a lesbian, I'm not sure I would have hired you." He likes me though, in spite of himself. I sense the fear of what he doesn't understand. I hear his internal struggle. I like her. What if the parents find out? She is a good teacher. "But it isn't right," I say, "to run a school based on fear." I bring Cindy to the holiday party. I am awkward with the trustees, but not with the faculty, many of whom have met her already. I want to quell any lingering doubt that I am single. "But whose business is it anyway if you're a lesbian?" I am asked by colleagues, the well-meaning ones. "I look at it another way," I say. "Don't your students know you are married? They even know you have kids. Do you hide it from them? Why? Because there is nothing to hide." It's the package deal. It is suggested by some that I reconsider teaching at Pike. That I find a school that more closely suits my needs. I am depressed. I feel like a burden. Just one person, I think. I am unreasonable to assume the school would change only for me. What about the students, then? I think of the girls who confide in me. The ones who tell me they don't fit in with the others. I think of the ones who wonder silently. "In Human Sexuality, is homosexuality discussed?" I ask. Not much, I am told. It depends on who is teaching it. "So the gay and lesbian kids don't hear anything that rings true to them? Where is their validation?" "Have you heard of GLSTN?," I ask my Headmaster. "The Gay and Lesbian School Teachers Network?" I know the conference information was mailed to the school, but it is not posted anywhere. I tell him I want to attend. If you go, he says, people might see you there. They might talk, mention your name. I don't mind, I say. I am not asking for permission. I also want to announce at a full faculty meeting that I am a member of GLSTN and that anyone who would like information could seek me out. Somehow, I am still nervous to announce it. Introducing Cindy to people is one thing. Just saying the word lesbian in front of everyone is another. Nobody asks for information. Three administrators come to the conference, though. Afterwards, the Headmaster calls me to his office, says something about "damage control." Word will get out, he says. Parents might call. We need a strategy. I am furious. I leave his office and cry in a friend's classroom. "I can't work here," I say. "Not when he thinks of me as a liability." "I know it's hard to believe," my friend says, "but I think he meant well. He wants to protect you." "He might have chosen better words," I say. The Head of the Upper School, my immediate boss, says he enjoyed the conference. "I learned a lot," he says. He tells me about the changes he has made in his Human Sexuality class, about the matter-of-fact way he broaches homosexuality. Good, I think. But there is still literature, math, science, history... "I think I need to leave Pike," I say to my Head of School. "I feel too much like a liability." We talk some more, agree to discuss my situation further with the Headmaster. "It's one thing if we were a secondary school," my Headmaster says. "But elementary school children don't need to hear about this." "So, nobody should tell the kids if they are married or not, then? Is that what you mean?" I ask. "What about the kids who have gay parents? Or siblings?" "I hadn't thought of it that way," he says. At the end of year meetings, I push for a diversity workshop. Gay and lesbian issues must be included, I say. We begin the year with a half-day workshop. The first one ever. We focus mainly on racism, but the words gay and lesbian are brought up over and over. The school brims with talk of diversity. People begin to explore what Pike is like, what it could be like. We are not a complacent bunch. We talk with optimism. "I have a sense," the Headmaster says, "that the kids are aware of your situation and they don't mind." I agree. "I know they know," I say. "It just isn't a big deal for them." This year, the Headmaster announces the GLSTN conference himself at a full faculty meeting. He says that it is important. He encourages people to attend. The conference bulletin is posted on the faculty room door. Six or seven people say they are interested. All of them come. My Head of School says: I want my own children to grow up without the fears I have. The kids at Pike would profit from the realization that the teacher who inspired them to enjoy French, who was funny, and caring, and fair, was also gay. They should know that. I am told that whatever I do, I have the support of the school. A full year later, the Headmaster says to me: At the Board meeting last night, one of the trustees asked me if I would hire a gay teacher. What did you say? I ask. I told him all things being equal, sure. Then I said: you mean would I ever hire another gay teacher? He smiles and walks off. Two of my sixth graders hang around in my classroom after lit class one day. I know what they want to talk to me about. "Ms. Smith," one of them begins. "We were just wondering...not that it's any of our business or anything...but who was that woman at the medieval banquet with you? " I know they are wondering about Cindy. For the first time, I have brought her to the annual sixth grade medieval banquet. We dress as peasants and sit among the kings, jesters, and knights who otherwise are my sixth grade students. These two girls have noticed our identical rings and have asked another teacher whether or not I am a lesbian. "Her name is Cindy," I say." I guess you noticed our rings?" They look relieved, nod. "We had a ceremony," I say. "Like a wedding." "Oh," one of them says, the braver one. "We were just wondering. We heard rumors, you know?" "Well, they're true," I say. "Did the rumors bother you?" "Oh, no," they both shake their heads. "No one said anything bad or anything, just like, you know, when you're getting the dirt on your new teachers." "Well, thanks for telling us," they say, and head off to lunch. I wait for the fallout. There isn't any. Cindy and I go to the school fair. We bring my toddler nephew, and the three of us definitely get some interested looks. Mostly, the students rush past, yell hello. Some stop. "Oh, isn't he cute?" they say. A mother of one of my seventh graders waves from across the field. "I've been wanting to talk with you," she says. "My daughter jumped in the car the other day. ' Guess what? 'she said, excited. 'I think Ms. Smith is a lesbian!' I'm a lesbian, too, and my daughter was so relieved that someone else she knew and liked besides me and my friends is a lesbian. She knows the other kids like you, so maybe they won't be horrified if they find out about me. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that this is one family that is happy you are here." In January, when I return to school after the holidays, I find a white envelope in my mailbox in the faculty room. "Happy Anniversary," the card reads when I open it. I smile and begin to feel at home in the fabric of daily life at school. (Excerpted from ONE TEACHER IN TEN: GAY AND LESBIAN EDUCATORS TELL THEIR STORIES by Kevin Jennings.) CONTACT INFORMATION: Kevin Jennings c/o GLSTN 122 West 26th Street, Suite 1100 New York, NY 10001 USA Tel: (212) 727-0135 .................................................................. This document is one of the many practical resources available online from GLSTN's web site at http://www.glstn.org/respect/. The Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Teachers Network (GLSTN) is the largest organization of parents, educators, students and other concerned citizens working to end homophobia in K-12 schools and to ensure that all students are valued and respected, regardless of sexual orientation. To fulfill its mission and to raise awareness of these issues, GLSTN produces audio, visual and text-based educational materials, provides training, produces community programming and conferences, and organizes a growing national network of over 40 regional chapters. 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