Standing Up For Myself

After being ridiculed in front of my entire teacher education cohort for using my male name, today I stood up for myself by addressing my class. The night before, when everyone else was writing their philosophies of education and e-folio reflections, I was preparing my speech and being plagued by ‘what ifs.’ What if a student interrupts me during my speech to ridicule me again? What if my speech is met with silence and awkwardness? What if everyone hates me afterwards? What if this just fuels more gossip? But I had to do it, because doing nothing would imply that what happened was acceptable.

I was given the floor as soon as class started. This is what I said:

When my mom was pregnant with me, she made a list of names she would give me if I was a boy and a list of names she would give me if I was a girl. James was the name she chose for me if the doctor decided I was a boy. But the doctor didn’t decide I was a boy; he decided I was a girl. So I was given the name ***.

I started using the name James and identifying as male privately, with people I trusted, back in 2005. Over the past 5 years, I’ve increasingly come out more publicly as James at times when I felt safe doing so.

You’ve all known me since September. You may have noticed that in our Math class, I used a James nameplate. In our gym class, I refused to square dance in the ‘female role.’ Perhaps you noticed that I don’t shave my legs or my armpits. And that I have a boyish haircut. I pretty loudly expressed my annoyance with having to choose either male or female on course evaluation forms. And every day, I have worn men’s clothing to school. And we all did a two-week case study on transgender issues.

After all this time, I felt like this class knew me well enough, and understood trans issues well enough, that you would still treat me with respect if I was James. I want people to respect that ‘James’ is a significant part of my identity, one that makes me happier. I actually don’t care if you call me James or (my female name), because frankly, right now, I am both. I just expect a basic level of respect as a human being, even though my identity doesn’t fit neatly into this box or that box. That said, being called James is great and please feel free to call me that. Thank you to everyone who has just rolled with all of this, even though this stuff might be new to you. Hopefully this clears things up for people who may have been confused. But if you are still having a hard time with this, then I hope you will talk about it with an instructor. They’ve said they would be happy to talk to any of you about it. Thank you.

There was silence for a single second after I spoke that felt like forever. Then someone shouted a “Woo!” of support and started clapping and before I knew it, the whole class joined in. The three students who had taken issue with my male name all year looked pale and shocked, but clapped like everyone else. The person next to me whispered, “Good job.” A small package was secretly handed along a row of students and given to me. It contained a pen and a keychain customized with the name ‘James.’ I smiled at the student who it was from and gulped. I didn’t expect any of this.

Since then, many students have privately expressed that they were proud of me or thought I was brave. And everyone not only calls me James, but uses my name quite liberally. “Hi James.” How are you, James?” “Here you go, James.” “Excuse me, James.” “Sorry, James.” “Do you have a partner, James?” While a bit excessive, it’s everyone’s way of being supportive and it makes me smile.

The student who ridiculed me never acknowledged what happened or apologized. But I ran into one of her friends in the bathroom, one of the students who had trouble accepting my male name throughout the year. I was washing my hands when she walked in. She stopped, lightly touched my shoulder, and said “Thank you.” It was sincere. There was actually pain in her eyes. She was having a hard time choosing words. “It’s hard,” she said. “But that was brave.” With a moment of regained composure, she said, “Atta girl!” And then embarrassment. Wrong word choice. “BOY,” she self corrected. “Thank you,” I said. The awkwardness called for a change in subject. “It’s so hard to find a clean one,” she said of the stalls. “Yeah, I’ve noticed that regularly, in this bathroom in particular.” I said. She disappeared into a stall and I left, surprised once more.

Hello, my name is…

My practicum is over, and I returned to classes at my university on Monday. Our new instructor asked us to wear name tags, so I wrote ‘James’ on mine and put it on my shirt. I got some rude stares and snickers and when we had to introduce ourselves to everyone, people awkwardly laughed at me when I introduced myself as James. Bear in mind, these are the same 30 people I have been in class with everyday since September. The same people who saw my James nameplate in Math class, the same people who studied transgender issues in December, the same people who have seen me refuse to identify as male or female on my course evaluations, or dance in the ‘female role’ in gym. The people who have seen me wear men’s clothing and short hair every day and not shave my legs and armpits. So it shouldn’t have been surprising when this week, my name tag said James on it. I thought.

Today, I raised my hand to answer a question and the instructor called on me using the name ‘James.’ A student who sat a couple of seats over from me snorted “James!” and looked over at two other women who have given me a difficult time at earlier points in the year. They smirked. I said, “what?” And she said incredulously, “Well yesterday you were **** and today you are James?” I said that I have used the name James since the beginning of the year. She said, “Well what are you going to be tomorrow? Eagle?” I repeated the word “Eagle” with confusion. Then I muttered “I can’t believe this.” I looked from the instructor to the student and back again, confused. Bewildered. Embarrassed. Tears started to fill my eyes and I tried to fight them back and say what I had wanted to say, back when I raised my hand in the first place. She said, “What?” as if shocked by my emotion. I needed to get out of there, so I stood up, said “I’m not mad at you, but I need to leave.” And I left. Then I burst into tears. Two other students came out to the hall to comfort me, which was sweet. Shortly thereafter, the teacher came out and asked what she could do. I said I didn’t know, but I wasn’t coming back to class. So someone brought me my stuff and I left. I couldn’t eat lunch because I felt like I was going to puke. I returned for the afternoon class. People awkwardly looked at me and then looked away. And I had to introduce myself again, since we had a guest speaker. So I said again, ‘my name is James.’ No one laughed this time.

After class, I spoke to one of the profs in charge of the program. I told her what happened in the morning. We decided that tomorrow morning, I will address the whole class. I’ll explain that James was the name my mom had chosen for me if I had been identified as male on the day I was born. I started using the name James and identifying as male privately, with select people, in 2005. I’ve increasingly come out more publicly as James, at times when I felt safe doing so. After all this time, I felt like this class knew me, and understood trans issues, and would still treat me with respect, if I was James. I don’t mind if people sometimes refer to me by my other name, but I want people to respect that James is also a significant part of my identity.

I think that’s what I’ll say – I have to think it through and plan it out tonight. Hopefully, after all that, my fellow students will finally get it.

Queer Student Teacher Goes to Sex Ed

The school nurse made a special visit to my school today to teach “Family Life Education” to students in Grades 5 through 7. My Grade 5′s filed into the class with great curiosity, a curiosity that I also felt, but for rather different reasons… While they wondered about changing from children to adults, I wondered how heterosexist the curriculum would be. I obtained special permission from the Vice Principal to join the class, who told me that one of the parents in my class had contacted her with concerns about whether sexual orientation would be discussed in the session. She responded that it rarely comes up with Grade 5s, who tend to be more interested in physical changes during puberty. But actually it did come up, most explicitly when the DVD shown to the students proclaimed that “Girls may get boyfriends and this is a normal part of growing up.” They did a really great job of letting the 10% of the student population who are queer know they aren’t normal. Would it really have been that difficult or controversial to say that teens may start to feel sexually attracted to other people and this is a normal part of growing up?

The other problematic part was that boys and girls were given completely different sessions. Girls were educated about ‘girl changes,’ especially menstruation. I don’t know what ‘boy changes’ were emphasized in the other session, as I wasn’t allowed to join that group. Separating boys and girls overemphasizes the differences between genders. There are many changes that both boys and girls go through during puberty. As for those topics that only apply to part of the gender spectrum, what is the harm in educating everyone? Boys should know about menstruation. Girls should know about erections and wet dreams. What is the benefit of being kept in the dark? This only serves to promote misinformation as kids educate each other or try to make sense of what they find on the Internet.

This brings me to the biggest problem. In this school district, Family Life Education in elementary schools is allotted about 60 minutes of class time in the whole year. These kids are not learning about their bodies. We spend hours every day teaching them about their world, why should their bodies remain a mystery? Why is it okay that my Grade 4s and 5s learned about the digestive and circulatory systems, but not about their reproductive systems? I know many people who were sexually active by Grade 8. Kids need to know how to make informed decisions about their bodies. Comprehensive sexual health education is the right of every student, regardless of their parents hang-ups about sex.

Brewing Backlash?

On the Day of Pink, I read my students a children’s storybook called The Sissy Duckling by Harvey Fierstein. The tale is about a gender non-conforming duckling named Elmer who gets bullied until his feminine ways allow him to save the day, and he is transformed into a hero. My lesson consisted of brainstorming synonyms for sissy, reading the book, listing the activities Elmer was considered a sissy for participating in, and discussing whether it was okay for boys to participate in such activities. The students then created cut-outs of pink shirts, on which they completed the sentence: It’s okay for boys to… and It’s okay for girls to… The shirts now make a bulletin board display in the foyer of the school.

About three weeks have passed since this lesson. Yesterday, however, a child awkwardly asked me if she could borrow my copy of the story because her mom wanted to see it.

I’ve read many stories to the children, as has my associate teacher, and this request has never come up. Furthermore, this particular parent established herself as a squeaky wheel in the past by complaining to the principal about her daughter’s end of term report card. During that episode, I met the child’s father when I participated in a meeting to discuss the family’s concerns. The next day, the mother came to school and made casual conversation with me in the playground. I thought nothing of it at the time, though now I recognize that I was likely being scoped out (it’s highly unusual for either parent to visit the school).

Back to yesterday. With nothing to hide, I lent the child the book so she could show her mother. When she returned it today, I inquired whether her mom enjoyed it – and she nodded her head but wouldn’t look me in the eye and quickly walked away. Normally she is a very sociable kid. It confirmed my suspicions that something is definitely up.

I gave my associate teacher a heads up and we began making preparations for a possible complaint. We reviewed the components of the provincial curriculum to which my lesson applied, went over the lesson plan I had used, and discussed what I should do if I am approached by an angry parent (I’ll calmly suggest that we schedule a meeting with the parent, my associate teacher, and myself). When my associate teacher left me alone in our portable at 3pm, she locked me in “just in case.” Tomorrow, we are going to meet with the principal, make her aware of the situation, and show her the book.

I hope it’s nothing…

Day of Pink

I took a bit of a risk when I hit the ‘send’ button after typing an email message for all the teachers at my practicum school. I explained that when I began my practicum, I overheard one boy call another boy a fag. I suggested that, as part of a school-wide strategy to stop homophobic slurs, we celebrate the Day of Pink on April 14. On this day, millions of people across Canada wear, you guessed it, pink in order to stand up against homophobic bullying. I attached some links to posters and lesson plans and crossed my fingers that they’d be used.

My email was received by an odd wall of silence both in cyberspace and reality. So here in the real world, I printed out packages for teachers containing full-colour posters and lesson plans and topped them off with a post-it note that said “Take me!” I put a couple on each table in the staff room one morning and again crossed my fingers.

I popped by the Principal’s office and asked if I could hang up the poster featured in the picture above, and create a small bulletin board display for the Day of Pink in the hallway. There was some worry in her voice. She said something not quite clear about being cautious of the parent advisory council: “I’ve been here for two years, and in that time, I’ve noticed that that PAC is… we have to be careful not to…” Then as if to cover up her backtracking, she said with confidence, “Yes, put up the poster. Just don’t put it on the PAC bulletin board.” So I made my first bulletin board display in the hallway.

When I came back to the staff room for lunch, many of the packages I had distributed remained unclaimed. This was disheartening, but later on during lunch break, when I was in my portable classroom, the Vice Principal stopped by. She said that there have never been discussions of homophobia in the school, as its quite a conservative school district, but it’s so great that a teacher candidate is now bringing this forward. She told me she used to sit on the social justice committee of the school district and could put me in touch with some folks there if I’d like. But I was just pleased to have found an ally at my school – in a VP, no less. She asked if she could give the Spirit Leaders the task of making an end-of-day announcement to encourage everyone to wear pink. Of course I was thrilled. And at the end of the day, it happened: students were asked to stand up against ‘bullying, discrimination, and homophobia’ over the loudspeakers. I just about fell over when they didn’t even omit the word homophobia! But the big test would come the following day, the actual Day of Pink.

On Wednesday April 14, the impossible happened. 99% of the staff and 50% of the students showed up wearing pink. The secretary said to me in the photocopier room, “We’re listening to you” before whisking away with a smile on her face. I planted stickers saying “I celebrate diversity” on every kid I could find in pink and I did a lesson on gender stereotypes with my class. I was asked not to discuss homophobia explicitly by my practicum teacher, so I didn’t. But at the end of the lesson, when I asked kids to finish the sentence “It’s okay for boys to…” on a pink shirt, one boy wrote, “It’s okay for boys to love boys.” It was the same kid who had ‘played gay’ in my previous blog entry.

Gay for Play

Over the past few years, I’ve noticed a new trend: more and more boys are playing gay. By ‘playing gay,’ I mean that in the context of a playful joke, pairs of boys flirt with one another in front of their peers and/or pose as a gay couple in order to make people laugh.

I’ll give you an example from my practicum last week. We were in gym class and my mentor teacher asked everyone to find an opposite sex partner. Friendship groups in this class tend to be divided by gender (it’s a Grade 4/5 class), and the teacher wanted to encourage play between the boys and girls. Two boys resisted the instruction and paired up with each other. I asked them nonchalantly, “Are one of you identifying as female today?” Each boy pointed at the other and said, “He’s the girl.” But then one of the boys had a better idea. “We’re gay,” he declared. He put his arm over the other boy’s shoulder. His friend did the same and agreed, “Yeah, we’re gay.” They stood there proudly with grins on their faces. “It’s okay to be gay!” I said as I walked away. They made sure their classmates saw their display of gayness in what appeared to be a class-clown type gag.

When I taught teenagers a year ago, two boys did something similar, although they took it a bit further by taking on an effeminate manner and flirting with one another to make the rest of the class laugh. On the rare occasions that I have hung around with twenty-something straight men, I’ve seen them do the same thing.

The question for me is…what’s so funny? Could this be interpreted as a sort of drag show, where instead of performing an alternate gender, one performs an alternate sexuality? Are they playing with the possibilities of what could be? If so, is it transgressive humour? Or is it funny because being a gay man is considered an absurdity. Perhaps its supposed to be funny because the two players couldn’t possibly actually be gay, because gay couldn’t possibly exist in their immediate context; it only exists in the news or in popular culture…right? (A lot of people still seem to think this is true!).

I’m leaning toward this last explanation. I once overheard some preteen girls on the bus giggling because they ‘were lesbians’ in gym class since they had to dance together. Another friend who was with them wasn’t laughing. “I don’t find it that funny,” she said, “because some people actually are lesbians.”

If the laughter is for all the wrong reasons, how does one respond as a teacher without censoring a student’s sexuality? Sometimes people say what we want to say, but frame it as a joke, because its safer that way. We can test out people’s responses without having to seriously accept the consequences. In this sense, it is important to let students play gay. If they are gay or think they might be, it’s a way to gauge their peers’ acceptance. As teachers, we can’t assume what a student’s sexuality is or will be. So maybe what matters more than the act of playing gay is the act of laughing at/with people who play gay. Maybe when this happens, it’s worth a discussion with the observers of the scene: why is this funny? Isn’t it okay to be gay? If the people playing gay get defensive (“No, no, we’re not actually gay”) then invite them into the conversation: would you find it embarrassing if someone perceived you as gay? Why?

My point is that I think we need to talk about the trend of laughing at people who are ‘gay for play’ and get to the bottom of what’s really going on.

‘Straight’ Lines

I hate airports. But when my Teacher Education program halted for a two-week break, I went to Mexico for some rest and relaxation and this required spending some time in airports. For some reason, the number of strange looks I get because of my gender expression skyrockets in airports. I’ve come to expect it. But something happened in the Mazatlan International Airport that I never would have predicted.

Prior to boarding my flight back to Canada, the customs officials had the people at the gate form two lines: one for men and one for women. My passport says I am female, so I thought I’d better get in the women’s line-up and did so reluctantly. As the crowd split into two lines, a nearby female passenger who was jammed in the men’s line-up suggested that she and I switch places. I uttered words that felt like a betrayal of myself in many ways, “Unfortunately, I am a woman.” She tried to act like the exchange didn’t happen and made her own way into the women’s line. The line slowly shifted forward as passengers were searched and then allowed to board the plane. Soon, it was my turn. The customs officer shyly said that I should be in the other line. “I am a woman,” I said again. She took my passport, inspected it and my boarding pass, and waved me through to the next phase of the security check. The customs officer there took one look at me and angrily pointed me to the men’s line-up: “Over there!” she demanded. I didn’t want to get into trouble with customs, but wasn’t sure how to best avoid it. I went into the men’s line-up. A feeling of pride swept over me and I smirked with satisfaction. This was the line I’d much rather be in. Until I realized they were screening the men with more intensity. Many men were being patted down, whereas only the women’s carry-on luggage was being searched. My heart started thumping hard in my chest. What if the customs officer patted down my chest? Fortunately, when it was my turn, they didn’t pat me down. They must have thought I was just a teenage boy so it was unnecessary. I boarded the plane with bemusement.

Maybe you’re asking yourself: What does this have to do with education? Well, my airport experience reminds me of how often boys and girls are required to form separate line-ups in schools. Do you remember having to line up by gender, perhaps in the hallway or during gym? I do. I also remember a time in gym class when my practicum teacher instructed the girls to line up, and one of the boys galloped off to line up with them. The result was that he got laughed at by his peers. This particular student likes many traditionally feminine activities like gymnastics and knitting. He is also in touch with, and quite good at expressing his emotions. Perhaps he (consciously or unconsciously) felt a stronger association with the female group. Or perhaps he just wasn’t listening to the teacher’s instructions.

Either way, his gender was being policed through the line-up, just as my gender was policed by the customs officials. The implicit message of the requirement to form a gender-based line was: You are either male or you are female. Not both. Not neither. You must choose one. The other message was: Whether you are male or female will not be determined by you. Your identity is not up to you. The group will decide who you are and will discipline you to comply through fear or shame. Is this an ethical way to teach? I don’t think so.

As a friend of mine says, we wouldn’t ask students to line up by race: “Black kids line up here and white kids line up there.” We don’t ask kids to line up according to whether they have a disability or not. Or whether they are middle class or working class, or whether they are straight or gay. Why is it okay to ask them to line up according to gender – and considering the harm it does to students who don’t fit in these boxes, is it worth it?

Queer Student Teacher Goes to the Career Fair

Last night I prepared a resume to distribute to potential employers at the biggest education career fair in the province. The Faculty of Education advised us to include a picture and our gender on the resume, which gave me pause. I decided pretty much immediately not to include my gender, because there is not a simple enough answer for a one-page resume, and any simple answer I gave would either feel untrue to myself or be likely to prevent my application from being considered. However, deciding on the picture component was a bit more difficult. If I included my picture, I might as well scrawl “lesbian” or “trans” on the top of my resume.  At the same time, everyone else would likely be including a picture and my resume would probably garner less attention without one.  I somehow convinced myself that maybe some employers might welcome a queer applicant. Maybe there would be a queer employer there, and I would stand out in a good way. I don’t think there is anything unprofessional about how I look. I decided to include my picture.

This morning, I put on a nice grey button-up dress shirt with a navy blue sweater vest and some greyish brown cords. I made sure my hair was tidy. I went to the career fair thinking I looked pretty good. I circulated among the booths and submitted some resumes to my preferred school districts, which tended to have line ups. I noticed the Maple Ridge booth was vacant, and thought I’d introduce myself to the representative. I walked over, smiled, said hello, and told her my name with my hand extended for a handshake. Everyone was shaking hands at the career fair, it seemed like a good thing to do. Rather than shake my hand, she folded her arms. I thought, maybe she’s a germaphobe. But she didn’t even smile or take my resume. She said they were only hiring for a few select positions. I said thank you and walked away feeling embarrassed and wondering why she was so rude to me.

I walked over to the station for the Council of International Schools, introduced myself to the representative and requested some literature. A pretty woman, my age, with long brown hair then approached the table and handed the man her resume. He took it, looked at the picture and said “Wow. What do you teach?” She responded with, “High School English.” He then mouthed the words “I heart you” while he drew a heart on his chest and pointed to her. She giggled, he handed her his brochure, and they chatted. I was ignored and he didn’t even give me the brochure I had requested. I waited until they were finished and then asked if international schools tend to have a high turn over rate among the students. He answered – yes they can. And that was it, as though I was not worth his time to give a thoughtful response to.

I briefly chatted with a representative from an all-female private school called Crofton House. While she was willing to shake my hand and answer my questions, it was clear from her body language and tone that I was not what she was looking for. They weren’t what I was looking for either.

I was beginning to feel discouraged. I probably shouldn’t have gone to the Calgary School Board next. But I thought the representative seemed gay (!), so I chatted him up. When the ice was broken, I asked if the Board was welcoming of gay and lesbian teachers. He was caught off guard, and said that Calgary has “…multidiversity” and there are many homosexual teachers and students, but he wouldn’t look me in the eye. Also, the word ‘homosexual’ threw me off – folks who use that word tend not to be allies. I thanked my lucky stars he’s from Alberta and I have no intention of moving there, anyway.

I’m pleased to say that the woman for the Vancouver School Board was incredibly kind and professional, and Vancouver is my top choice …though 800 teachers there just got potential layoff notices. The Northwest Territories folks were also quite pleasant, but their disposition stemmed from desperation! Still, I’ll give them some thought. After today, I’m beginning to wonder about how being visibly queer will affect my job prospects.

Intersections between Queerness & Disability

One of the projects I have given my Grade 4/5 class is to practice and present a story through Reader’s Theatre. Today, one group of students presented their performance to the junior kindergarten class. One of the members of this performance troupe was Aaron, a boy who has apraxia – difficulty with the motor movements required for producing speech. Every time he said his lines, the kindergartens laughed at him for the way he talks (I recorded it, edited out faces, and posted it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ouOlp3q49Zw). The kindergarten teacher shushed them (and had a talk with them afterwards about respecting people’s differences). But the damage had been done – as I walked Aaron back to class, he was near tears. He said he felt humiliated that the kids had laughed at him – and understandably so. What can you say in these moments? I told him that people who are different often get laughed at or treated badly and its really unfair. I said that even I get laughed at because of how I look compared to most female teachers, and its really hard. But the good thing about it is that, since we know what it feels like to be treated badly for unfair reasons, we know not to do this to other people. It can make us both stronger and kinder. I also said I was so sorry this happened to him.

But these words are not enough. What now?

I thought about how I would respond if he was being laughed at for reasons related to queerness. I would probably want to plan some lessons to raise awareness about differences in gender expression. I’d probably lead discussions about how students feel about and respond to people who are different from them and what the effects of this are. I might even start some kind of ‘don’t let gender box you in’ club to support gender-queer students. If I did these things as a teacher candidate during my practicum, I would be stirring the pot and likely gain myself a reputation that could prevent me from landing a job after I graduate. The good news is, it is socially acceptable for a teacher candidate to stand up for kids with disabilities. Maybe I’ll focus some of my energy here. It’s certainly needed. I wonder if some of my responses to homophobia could be tailored to fight ableism.

This leads me to wonder about the intersections between queerness and disability. How are our fights bound together? For one, my non-conformist gender identity and expression often leads me to use the wheelchair washroom to protect my safety in public – I am not a wheelchair user; I use these spaces because they aren’t usually designated for a specific gender. What does this say about how society views the gender and sexuality of people with disabilities? Maybe these folks don’t fit the norms associated with ‘real’ men and ‘real’ women. Neither do queers.

Furthermore, being ‘homosexual’ has historically been classified as being disabled. More specifically, homosexuality was considered by the psychiatric community to be a mental illness until 1973. Today, being transgender is still listed as a mental illness under “Gender Identity Disorder” in the DSM-IV-TR. This is a revealing example of how disability is socially constructed (and laden with heterosexist values) in order to govern what will be considered normal and abnormal, and thus who will enjoy unearned privilege and who will be oppressed.

I’m sure there are plenty of other intersections between queerness and disability and its not my intention to list them all here. My point is that being a queer ally means being an ally for people with disabilities and vice versa. So I want to make Aaron’s fight my fight.

Education or Freak Show?

My tutorial instructor is a big fan of something called Imaginative Education, a framework based on the idea that people see the world differently depending on the developmental phase they occupy. By tapping into developmentally-appropriate worldviews, teachers can engage students’ imaginations and entice them to learn. According to this framework, kids in their mid- to late- elementary school years are in the ‘romantic’ phase of life. In this phase, they love to learn about the extremes of reality – the biggest, the hottest, the oldest, the richest – the kind of thing you’d find in the Guinness Book of World Records. Imaginative Education encourages teachers to frame knowledge in these terms in order to capture their students’ interest.

One day in tutorial, we were discussing gender non-conformity when the term ‘intersex’ came up. My tutorial instructor asked the group, “Do you think kids are interested in learning about intersex? Of course they are! It’s like something out of the Guinness Book of World Records!”

When I think of that particular book, the image of the world’s longest fingernails comes to mind. I remember being horrified but fascinated by the way those fingernails twisted and turned – they were really gross! Now I try to imagine a picture of the genitalia of an intersex person next to that. It occurs to me that this is not an extreme at all, but actually the middle ground. Extreme would be ‘full-on’ male or ‘full-on’ female, wouldn’t it? His logic was problematic, but I still knew what he meant. The Guinness Book of World Records, like Ripley’s Believe it or Not, is a modern-day take on a centuries-old form of entertainment – the Freak Show. ‘Hermaphrodites,’ as intersex people were formerly known, were a mainstay of these exhibitions. Around the 1970s, when human rights were extended to more than straight white men, freak shows became less common. But I think the freak show is often brought back to life by educators seeking to prod their students into, well, paying attention. My instructors remarks made perfect sense in this historical context.

While I’m sure the idea of a ‘hermaphrodite’ lingered in my consciousness from a young age, the first time I was introduced to people with genitalia that weren’t easily classifiable as male or female was in Grade 11 Biology. In a dark laboratory, a British man in a white lab coat put images on the overhead projector of naked people whose bodies were neither male nor female. The class gasped and groaned and laughed, and the teacher seemed quite satisfied with himself for capturing the interest of his otherwise apathetic students.

Today, I wonder: Where did those images come from? Who were those people whose naked bodies were cast on a screen for gawking teenagers to laugh at? Who took the pictures and why? And couldn’t my teacher come up with a more sensitive way to discuss the topic? It was less about education than about creating an atmosphere conducive to a freak show.

I bring this up because there is a big push in Teacher Education to make lessons that are interesting, engaging, and fun – which is great. But I think we need to critically reflect on what constitutes an ‘interesting’ or ‘engaging’ lesson. What emotions are we hoping to evoke and how does this shape our students’ relationship to those who are different from them? These are particularly relevant questions for educators seeking to bring queer issues into the classroom.