I love Glee right now.  Not because it’s entertaining, clever, funny or has rockin’ music, although all of those are true, but because it is so gloriously true to itself. I watched what I guess is being dubbed the “bullying episode,” largely about Kurt trying to make sense of his place in school as the only openly gay student.  What I love is that the writers, actors, etc. have managed to weave this very important storyline into the fabric and tone of the show seamlessly.  As I see it, this isn’t "the bullying episode.” It’s the experience of gay students everywhere, as filtered through a lens that is both gloriously unrealistic (A school that shuts down because the all (cool) boys glee club is holding an impromptu performance of Katy Perry music? Tell me more!) and unflinchingly honest.

Issues around equality and civil rights for the GLBTQ community have caught my attention since middle school. I have no idea where I learned about them, as they certainly didn’t come up in Catholic school, wedged between math fact “Holy Cards” and listening to Santana and Billy Joel in Theology class. I remember the feeling of setting foot on BC’s campus and seeing my first opportunity to DO something - anything - of value, in this case, collecting signatures on a petition for a GSA.  I’ve never once doubted that I am straight but I suppose in my simplistic mind, treating gay people as any less than equal just seems entirely ridiculous, illogical and indefensible. (My perspective taking can be a bit lacking when it comes to people who are intolerant, bigoted, etc.)

Right now, there is a sudden flood of support, much of it streaming through Facebook and YouTube, for gay rights and particularly in support of GLBTQ students. As a teacher, the part of my job that I take most seriously is my role as an advocate for my students, whose needs and differences connect mostly to language, culture and immigration status.  However, as a teacher of a very visible group of “different” students, this rise in awareness, advocacy and true compassion for GLBTQ students still hits close to home and stirs up a sense of passion and urgency that I feel I’ve been missing. 


There is a whirlwind of new information and content every hour. Take the It Gets Better Project, a collection of videos on YouTube aimed at supporting GLBTQ teens and with the very immediate goal of reaching students before they reach the point of desperation, self-injury or suicide. There are videos from celebrities like Neil Patrick Harris, Chris Colfer (Kurt from Glee) and Tim Gunn, from politicians like President Obama, Secretary Clinton and Texas city councilman Joel Burns, from groups like the casts of Memphis and Wicked, Google employees (including a friend from BC) and of course, regular joes like us. Facebook and YouTube videos of new songs with clear, unmistakable messages of support (original songs performed by Katy Perry ("Firework"), Todrick Hall (“It Gets Better”), young stars of Broadway) are going viral, maybe even more than LOLcats! I can be a technological stick in the mud sometimes as I watch print losing its value but the IGB Project, the fact that we can literally watch people pleading with kids to stick around, promising them that we can make the world a safer place for them… It is just awe-inspiring to me. I recently read a blog post about how these videos will become the historical record of this period of time and how not only is history being made (as it is to some degree in any movement) but we are watching and creating the artifacts that will document it for the future. That idea is fascinating to me on an academic level but on a more emotional level, I feel proud to be a witness to a time in which people - gay and straight - were joined in giving a damn and presenting a united front. Phew, ok internet.  I give.  Your addictive nature does in fact make the world a better place.

In addition to IGB, there are organizations – major ones like HRC (Human Rights Campaign) and GLSEN (the Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network) as well as newer ones like We Give a Damn, True Colors, etc. that are working to advocate for GLBTQ teens and adults and to encourage straight people to get off their butts and speak out. If nearly two-thirds of GLBTQ students don’t feel safe in our schools and almost a third have skipped school on account of that fear, schools have a problem that is bigger than putting up a nice mission statement and keeping an ear out for fights. I so want this to become something that all people of all gender identities who come in contact with students can buy into and work toward openly.  We should not be made to feel like rabble-rousers for seeking to support the GLBTQ students as we are welcome to do for students of color, low-income students, etc.

The flood of information out there can bring me to an emotional brink at times but I truly hope it is doing the same to others.  This is not a time for panels, cursory discussions in student support teams or empty, politically-motivated statements of support.  This has to be a time in which we take the energy of this paradigm shift in openness and use it to propel school and community cultures forward. Kids can’t wait and it’s high time we, as a culture, begin to hold one another to a higher standard of behavior and teach and model for all people of all ages that acceptance, kindness and respect are simply nonnegotiable in our society.

Ugh, clichés

In an effort to bring some sort of conclusion to my last entry while in a zombie-like state of near sleep, I apparently tapped out one of the trite clichés I hate the most.  I do NOT see myself as bringing some messianic light into the darkness of my students worlds. Ugh.  That brings to mind an argument that arose in a grad class over the summer regarding interracial adoption. (The class was on cultural competence.) The crux was whether or not a family of one race raising a child of another - namely the most common pairing of a white family with an African, African-American or Latin-American baby - can raise the child without doing the child a psychological/social disservice and with an appropriate understanding of who he or she is in the grand scheme of race.  It got rather heated and having absolutely no background in the subject, my opinions were limited.  The one I did feel most passionately, however, is that any family who takes on a child with the intention of "saving" him or her is already heading down the wrong path.

Returning to the streetlight image, the light I see myself casting is not the traditional literary/religious symbol of hope, goodness, righteousness or what have you.  It is simply a way to help make sense of the world around them.  We see better in the light and that's what I aim to provide.  I like the streetlight image because it casts light on stories that are often hidden from view in our society.  The modern immigrant story has been reduced to an extremely one dimensional one in the political/social arenas. My political leanings certainly come into play here as I will openly declare that I believe that the U.S. desperately needs a better global understanding to understand the complexities of illegal immigration. Another teacher recently noted something that we in ELL-land marvel at constantly: the stories that come out in my classroom are unlike anything that is spoken in any other room in our school.  I credit the streetlight image once again for this. Students need a space to make sense of a crazy world, one that is even crazier for those on the margins. My room is the place where they can come in, turn off the noise and try to make sense of it all. (They can also watch music videos on YouTube and read magazines on the beanbag chairs in their free time...C'mon, people, it ain't Utopia!)

I don't know if I'm clarifying or adding to the superhero complex I am trying so hard not to emit.  If I engage my brain day to day, I come up with all kinds of questions and opinions on rights, politics, ethics, psychology and so on.  On the surface, it's just your average everyday classroom with words of the day, class discussion, journal entries and task-avoidance. My philosophy allows me to believe that at the right moment and given the right conditions, it can be more for the student that needs it.  That's the light I hope exists.

(Believe it or not, there are actually humorous, light-hearted occurrences in my classroom as well.  I'll try to weave some in on the blog, lest I give off the impression I am running a meditation center-rehab-halfway house-daycare-institution. One at a time, perhaps, but not all.)