As the dog days of summer wind down and I eagerly await going back into the classroom for the first time in years, I have to try not to focus on the state of our Union. Not focus on the fact that ICE agents are getting a $50,000 signing bonus when hired. Fifty fucking thousand dollars to wear a mask and kidnap brown and black people off the streets. I am trying not to focus on the fact that Alligator Alcatraz was constructed in eight days. Eight days. The money has always been there. Always been there for wars and cruelty, but none for education. Honestly, its hard not to focus on the fact that educators are not valued in this country by the higher-ups.
But when I do focus on just teaching, luckily, most of my memories and experiences have been overwhelmingly positive. Sometimes parents try to get too close to a teacher or fish for information that is none of their business. My outgoing, friendly personality is often interpreted as an invitation for them to pursue a friendship. Hiding myself on social media was just as much hiding from the parents as it was for hiding from the students! More than once during a parent/teacher meeting, a parent would lean in and say, “Mr. D we should go to (insert name of gay bar here) and have a drink.” I would answer, “Your son is failing English Honors, you know that’s why you’re here, right?”
Another time, on the last day of school, I was packing my car and ran into a parent in the parking lot. We got to talking, and I mentioned that I was leaving on a cruise later that day. “Oh, is it an Atlantis Cruise?” she asked, adding a wink. {Atlantis is a private travel company catering to the LGBTQI+ community.} I answered, “No, but I have been on more than one of those, and they are fun.” Gotta give the people what they want! Sometimes that goes well, like on this occasion, but sometimes it bites you in the ass.
These last two stories do make me smile, one in a nervous kind of way. At a high school I taught, on Valentine’s Day, for $1 you can buy a “lovegram” — meaning members of the chorus will serenade that special someone in class. This was a “non-instruction” day since students are in and out of your 45-minute class nonstop, singing to each other. It’s actually super cute. In walks three seniors, costumed, ready to sing. I quieted down the class and was then told, “No, Mr. DeDominic, this one is for you!” Ok, I thought to myself, this is nice, I am close with lots of the students, they eat lunch in my room…thinking nothing of it…until they start singing the song. The song chosen was “No One” by Alicia Keys, as in “no one, no one, can get in the way that I am feeling for you…” AWKWARD. I am sure my face said it all because 30+ juniors were living their life listening and watching. Thankfully, the tension was cut from way in the back, “which one of you sent THIS song to our teacher y’all are creepy AND thirsty AF…you still have to write the Crucible paper that’s due tomorrow – waste of your dollar!!!”
Lastly, one day, a sophomore girl named Rayne* walked into my room. Rayne, to my knowledge, was out of the closet at the time…walking from class to class, hand in hand with her girlfriend. She walks in, asks if she can ask me a very personal question, and I say Sure.
“Mr. D, are we family?” she inquires, smiling ear to ear, emphasizing the word family. “Yes, Rayne, we are family.” “I KNEW IT! My gaydar is on point. Everyone insists you and Miss Saladina (my best friend who teaches Math) are a couple because you are together all the time but I knew!”
I calm her infectious enthusiasm down, letting her know that while I am out and proud, I am not the GAY ENGLISH TEACHER. She lets me know in no uncertain terms that she “has my back, because that’s what you do for family.” It’s good to know that sometimes you are lucky enough to find gay family that has your back!
I am lucky that most of my memories in education are positive. If only there was money to pay teachers a liveable wage instead of money to build a nuclear reactor on the moon – as just announced by the Secretary of Defense. If only I didn’t have to write letters to the PTA every year asking for money for books for my classroom. If only I didn’t have to have bake sales to raise money to send my swim team to the State Championships.
If only this country loved and admired teachers as much as I loved teaching. To see all the money going towards ICE agents and immigration is disgraceful and disgusting. And it’s hard not to focus on that.
Until next time readers…
(this column was originally published in the August issue of “Letters from Camp Rehoboth.)
The Gays of our Lives 