So, I ran my
anti-homophobia session. It went
fine.What was strange was
how one queer understood it. I spoke
to a woman about it, and she basically said she was sick of being the only
queer in the room. She’s seen as a
lesbian, but she doesn’t identify as one, and all this talk of gay stuff is
somewhat irritating to her.
Really?
Yep. She, on a personal level, is sick of
hearing about it and isn’t worried about being a queer teacher.What I got from this
was interesting. I ran the session
for all teachers, of course. But I
did consider the gay/lesbian teachers and their 'situation'. And I wanted to reach out to them. I love finding community in odd places
and banding together. I get a kick out of seeing other queer teachers in
schools, and know that we represent in the oddest corners of the straightest
places. And I guess I assumed they all felt this way. That even without acknowledging it, we understood each
other. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m the only one who seeks out my
brethren in this way. Perhaps I focus too much on it, perhaps it’s too important
to me. But I really like that
idea. Almost like there is a secret treasure in every new place, a sibling you
have yet to find. Sometimes they’re hidden and others times they’re visible
across a football field. As one of
the latter, I look for support/safety and comradeship where ever I end up.
I'm always seeking "community." There is another gay teacher and perhaps one in hiding in my building.I am a late bloomer, and I am not out to my students, but I am out to the staff. We did a writing wrap around at yesterday's inservice and when the story got to me, I continued it as if I were waiting for my female lover from Paris. When I had to pass the unfinished story on, the woman next to me had no idea what to do! I said that I could write from her perspective, could she write from mine?!? Sadly, she could not. I educate them every day!
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