Printer-friendly versionI work as an instructional coach at a large, diverse and underperforming urban public elementary school. Our students are at-risk. Families are struggling with stress and trauma. Teachers work mightily to close the achievement gap. So as I left a third-grade classroom the other day after a check-in with the teacher, I wasn’t surprised when she said, “Wait, can I ask you one more thing?”
“Sure, of course,” I replied. Usually teachers want help with instructional planning or student assessment. This question was different.
“Are you gay?” she wanted to know.
"I am gay. I'm so glad you felt comfortable to ask," I replied.
"I thought so," she exclaimed. “I’m not, and I need help. I think one of my students might be gay, and I have no idea what to do.”
We had a candid conversation about some things the teacher noticed. She doesn’t know if the student thinks of himself as gay, or if he is gay at all. She isn’t sure how—or if at all—she wants to approach the student’s family, whose culture is not one that is historically very open to anything but the most traditional of gender norms and sexual orientation. She is aware of her own perspective and the voice she brings to the conversation. She is also sensitive about how a straight, white woman’s concern about a brown, potentially gay, male student might be misinterpreted. And she wanted help.
Our school is smack dab in the middle of San Francisco, mere blocks from the historically-queer Castro neighborhood. Our city is known for its tolerant, inclusive, supportive mindset—yet, we can always do more. Talking about LGBT issues with students, especially at the elementary level, can be daunting. Many educators just don’t know how to do it. University-level credential programs that prepare teachers for the classroom rarely, if at all, cover this topic. Even here in San Francisco, relevant professional development for educators is hard to come by. Some teachers—and other adults, for that matter—don’t know how to talk about LGBT topics without talking about sex, and perceive the very definition of an LGBT person to be rooted solely in that person’s choice of sexual partners. Who wants to talk about sex with third-graders? No one.
She and I talked instead about creating a classroom environment--and a school--that embraces family diversity and avoids gender stereotyping, name-calling and bullying. A number of groups support this approach, including an offshoot of the Human Rights Campaign known as the Welcoming Schools project. Their website focuses on supporting K-5 students and offers online resources for teachers, parents, and other adults at all steps in the process of creating inclusive schools and communities.
Our school still has a long way to go in supporting LGBT youth and families. Knowing that we have teachers who, despite all that takes their time and attention as professionals in a school like ours, always make time to love and support their students and aren’t afraid to ask questions, feels like a strong foundation.
Kotleba is an instructional reform facilitator in California.
Comments
I applaud the author's equity
I applaud the author's equity work. However, although I don't believe the concept of risk is without validity, without critical examination, the "at-risk student" discourse situates risk as an inherent trait of children and communities, rather than identifying complex social conditions that create risk (Vasudevan & Campano, 2009), including those that exist in schools.
KKT-- Thanks so much for your
KKT--
Thanks so much for your comment. I actually couldn't agree more, and struggled quite a bit when writing this post with the decision about how to capture the personalities, situations, learning styles, families, and identities of our 385 children...in under 500 words! I felt very torn, because you are absolutely right: to say students are "at-risk" can imply that their situations are fixed, static, immutable...when really, to honor students and their learning, we as educators must continue to do the work believing that the opposite is true. We must see their assets, and we must frame our decisions when working with every child within a growth mindset.
I chose to use the term "at-risk" in the hopes that it would give readers a quick snapshot of who the teachers and staff at our school serve. Was the use of that term one with which I struggled? Yes. Do I believe they are ONLY "at-risk"? No. Could I have gone to greater lengths to describe who they are, what they love to learn about, what their challenges are, and how we as teachers have seen them work to grow beyond those challenges?
Yes. And for the sake of brevity and the broader topic of the post, I chose not to and instead short-handed all of that with the use of a general term I thought readers might connect to and understand. Perhaps that was a poor choice on my part, and I appreciate you bringing that perspective to light. I definitely have lots of room to grow as a writer, and as an educator. Using words to share my work and my mindset is still something I am learning to do. I appreciate your feedback.
Sarah Kotleba