I'm a teacher. I'm a creative writing teacher at a high school. I'm a creative writing teacher at a high school where they have metal detectors at the door.
ENTER 'GANSTA PARADISE' (i.e. That song that plays during the intro scene in Dangerous Minds as Michelle Pfeiffer goes in to a school full of raging hormones, guns, and the lack of interest to learn).
I started this almost a month and a half ago. If you would have asked me how I felt about the opportunity anytime before a month and a half ago, I would have said something like this: "Oh, wow, I mean, teaching has always been a goal of mine. It's great. I get to help kids who are in a rougher neck of the woods while bettering their writing and making them think creatively!" Then I would tell you how I would walk out of that school with my head held high and the sun would shine behind me so I'd glow like a little angel. I would get apples on my desk when I walked in to the room and I would have students offering hugs because I have made that much of an impact on their lives.
And that would have all been bull-shit.
Because after about two months of taking an hour long train ride to then back from class, being harassed on the bus ride I transfer to from the train and then getting harassed from the bus to the front door through the metal detectors through the main office up the stairs of the school to the classroom, I've wanted to give up. All because I am white or I dress nice or I am polite or because "I just don't get where they are coming from."
Day after day I am approached with a new issue. "Mr. Byron, I think I'm pregnant. I'm gonna have to quit class. Is that OK?" or "Mr. Byron, So and So isn't coming to class because he was arrested and is in jail for like four days, cool?" or "Mr. Byron... are you married?"
And I didn't think the last question would affect me more than the two issues before that. Kids pregnant and in jail or shooting each other or too busy being in gangs are a bigger issue than me not getting married. But the kids beg to differ.
"Whata mean you ain't married?" A normally quiet students asks me when I answer.
"I'm not married. I'm not with anyone. So, I can't get married."
"Well, aren't you a little old not to be married?" Another student, the one that raps during open mic, says puzzled.
"No... not really. A lot of people in my age group do not get married until later."
"Do you have kids?" A senior asks. She just had twins a year ago. She's only seventeen.
"No... nope no kids. Not ready for those yet either.
"Wait, so you aren't ready for kids... that's dumb!" She says responding to my answer. The entire class agrees completely nodding and laughing at me.
I stare at the class. I look at each and every single one of them while they laugh at me. One in the corner is snickering at me and whispering something in to her friends ear. The friend nods and giggles back.
"You gay?"
And there it was. The question that all the other questions finally led up to. I mean, if I was twenty-five and had no kids than that instantly means that I am gay. And, well, of course I am. But I have learned something from other instructors at this school and have picked up vibes from students. Homosexuality is not cool. Not even close. One kid in my class comes off a little feminine and is tackled daily for this. They call him names like "Butter Biscuit"(which apparently is worse than being called a faggot) and they constantly talk about guys he should have sex with... cause he's "the" girl. Or "He's nasty."
And in that moment I realized I have two options. I can be the hero. I can stand up for me and others who are scared to be different...whether it is by the way they look or their sexuality. I could be the superpower. I could say. "Yes. I am gay. I am. I have been gay all my life and I am awesome. Many of you have told me recently that you think I am awesome. Does that change when you find out that I am gay? Am I not an awesome teacher anymore because I am gay?
Or. I could say. "Um, no... moving on..."
I chose the second. And instantly, I was in high school again. I was sixteen sitting in the front row taking the best notes I could while hearing a few guys in the back making fun of me for the way I was sitting or the way I was leaning or the way I was breathing. I was suddenly young and all that confidence was erased and I was weak.
Until I realized I was twenty-five now. And no matter what... no matter what they could say or believe or tease me for they could never take the seven years I have dealt with my being something they may not believe in. And besides, I'm just there to teach creative writing. I'm not there to teach them my lifestyle. They couldn't handle how great my life is. They couldn't even believe the greatness I have experienced so far... and my job is to teach them HOW to experience the greatness of life... I am supposed to make them better writers and better thinkers and better life livers.
Which can be so hard when you have to pretend who you are not to inspire others to be themselves.