Training Day #2

It’s the second day of opening week in August and I’m in a new school surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Being the newbie is unnerving.

We are squished in a room that is set up with long tables and 8-10 chairs around each one. I chose a seat closest to the door because that makes my fight or flight response a little less suffocating. The seats around me gradually fill up. I smile and nod at my new colleagues and listen to their chatter as I try to glean as much information about them as I can. No matter which school you work in, the same people work there. They just have different names.

The projector turns on and the screen fills with a PowerPoint slide. Gender Expansive & Transgender Training Part 2. As it turns out, the mandatory training the school district is implementing goes much deeper than watching one video about a transgender kid and his parents. I squirm in my seat and feel like a spotlight is on me. In that moment, I instantly regret changing districts and wish I was back with familiar faces.

Someone I don’t recognize stands next to the projector screen and starts talking about the plan for this training. There will be three parts, and this is part 2. The district is acknowledging that there is a population of students that needs help, so we are being trained in order to expand our understanding, empathy, and advocacy toward this group. After a short introduction, some students stand alongside this person and the next slide comes on the screen.

I understand the strategy that is being used very quickly. They are having students who are members of the LGBTQ+ community present the facts to us. It’s smart. It’s much more difficult to ignore someone who is telling you how something personally affects them. Lots of information is presented and they do a great job. I am so drawn in by their bravery and poise that I forget my own anxieties. They just want us to know what life is like for them in a heteronormative building. They want us to see them and know their struggles. They want us to advocate for them with other students so they won’t be alone. It’s a powerful presentation.

We are then given some discussion questions to talk about at our tables. I’m still in the data-gathering stage of my newbieness, so I stay quiet. My husband’s advice rings in my ears, “you have two ears and one mouth… do more listening than speaking when you’re in a new situation.” I’m doing well until one of my colleagues says something that makes my mouth fly open before I can stop it.

“Look, if I’m walking down the hall and I hear students using the word ‘gay’ with each other, I’m not going to jump in and tell them to stop. They are just joking and aren’t using it maliciously. That’s just how they interact with each other, you know, boys will be boys kinda thing.” He leans back in his chair and folds his arms across his chest. He is clearly someone who has worked in the building for years. He feels confident in his declaration.

“Then you are letting them know that what they are doing is okay, and it is NOT okay,” I blurted out.

Silence. Crickets. Awkward shuffling. A young woman across the table shoots me a look with eyes wide open. Oh crap.

He stares at me for a second and explains that he isn’t going to engage with students in that situation because he knows the intent isn’t malicious. I’ve already opened my big mouth, so I can’t stop the flow now.

“Here’s the thing, if you walk by and let that behavior happen without correcting it, you are emboldening them to continue to use that language in more scenarios. You are telling them, by not saying anything to them, that what they are saying is permissible. When a vulnerable student witnesses this event, and believe me, they will witness it, you are also telling that student that this behavior is permissible. My dad always uses the phrase, ‘teacher as the exemplar.’ WE are the examples for these students. What we say, and what we don’t say, leaves a lasting impression. We lead by example. We need to say something in these situations. I don’t care how uncomfortable it is, we are obligated to do the right thing.”

I feel my face growing hot and I know it is bright red. The man stares at me incredulously as if I called him a bigot. He starts to get defensive, and thankfully at that moment our table discussions are asked to end and we bring our attention back up to the front.

My head is spinning and I’m kicking myself for opening my mouth. Here it is, day 2, and I’ve already made at least one enemy and showed my hand. This is not a good start.

We are dismissed and I dart out of the room and pop into the student bathrooms. The young woman from my table finds me in there and thanks me for saying something. “I didn’t feel comfortable speaking up because I am new here. But I am grateful that you said something. I hate the ‘boys will be boys’ attitude, it infuriates me. I know that was uncomfortable for you. Thank you.”

Relief washes over me as I realize I have identified an ally in my new community. That would have to be enough for now. It temporarily takes the sting away from knowing that I have painted a target on my back.