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Grover Cleveland Middle School is just like every other American school. Take that as you wish. But, to be honest, I got lucky.
My kids are relatively cool and I love my job. I love it more than anything else. Not that I necessarily have much else to love. But I like teaching. I like the routine of it.
It does, however, feel hard to enjoy when I’ve got a stack of ungraded papers in front of me.
Awh shucks! No lunch for me I guess.
Suddenly, I hear a faint knock on my door.
Classic. I’m the cool teacher. I take pride in that fact. Obviously kids want to talk to me!
“Come in!”’ I say, not too loudly, I’ve already got a headache.
It’s one of my eighth-graders. Luka, she’s a good student, enthusiastic, very smart kid.
“Luka! Hey, kid, what’s up?” I ask, gesturing to the empty chair across from me.
“Mr. Grace, can I sit in here for lunch?” She fiddles with her fingers while asking the question.
“Of course. D’you have something you want to talk about?”
It’s my job to help kids. And, of course, I do try my best to comfort them. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard, actually.
“Sorta. It’s hard to explain. I don’t- ” she paused. “I don’t know if you’ll understand.”
“Well, I can certainly try. I’m all ears,
Luka.”
We sat in silence for a moment.
“I think I’m trans.”
“Yeah?” I smile. “That’s cool. Anything else?”
There’s a handful of queer kids in the school.
Not many, but definitely some. They all seem to tell me first. It’s like they gravitate towards me. Translation: I’m the closeted queer teacher. But none of my students need to know that information about me. So, I'm happy to be an ally to them. A safe space is always nice.
Trans kids always warm my heart, to be honest. I mean, when I was their age, I never would’ve felt comfortable enough to come out to anyone. I don’t know if they can tell I’m like them? Maybe they have a trans detector and it beeps around me.
“No, I take that back,” Luka begins to explain, her hands shaking. “I am definitely trans. Like 100% sure.” Luka pauses. “Sorry, this is stupid. Thanks, Mr. Grace!”
Luka begins to stand up.
“Hey, wait. What’re your preferred pronouns?” I ask before they(?) leave.
Luka turns around on their heels, as if it was such a shock that I said that. “Uh, I like he/him. You?”
I raise an eyebrow and point stupidly at myself. “Same here. He/him.”
I lied.
I like he/they more. But, as I’ve mentioned, I don't want to come out to my kids. I’m scared of rumours spreading. Scared of what others might think. Maybe I’ll lose my role as the cool teacher.
Yes, I am a coward.
Before I get too lost in my thoughts, I continue speaking. “And do you have a preferred name? I don’t want to be deadnaming you.”
Luka, who is still standing by the door, gives me a puzzled look.
“You know a lot of terms,” he says as if he’s quizzing me.
Caught by a 14-year-old.
My face goes pink.
“I talk to a lot of students, kid. I learn stuff.” I shrug casually.
Luka smirks, as if he doesn’t believe me.
Fudge! He has totally caught me in a lie.
“The answer is no, by the way. I like Luka. But thanks for asking. You’re the best.”
“Of course, Luka. Happy to help.” I smile. “If you ever need anything, I’m here. Don’t let anyone give you trouble, yeah?”
“Yeah, okay, thank you.” He smiles back at me as he leaves my room.
Success!
──────
A week later, I’m finally done grading all the papers.
The kids have to make a presentation about whatever they found most interesting in this year's curriculum. I'm excited to see what they come up with.
And, I don’t have to grade that (hurray!). It’s just for fun and revision purposes.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About myself. Point and laugh and call me a narcissist, alright? But, I’m proud of myself.
Younger me would be proud. My parents would not be. They would hate me even more. But, they’re dead, so they’ll never know.
I can’t believe I transitioned, to be truthful. I’m glad I did. It’s such a privilege to be able to get top surgery and testosterone.
I like being me.
I like being Ryland Grace.
I’m admiring the homemade solar system model hanging from the ceiling of my classroom when I get another knock on my door.
It’s Luka and Charles.
(He refuses to be called Charlie, by the way)
“Hey, kiddos, what’s up?”
Charles speaks first. “We were wondering if you want a pride pin?”
I raise my eyebrows, motioning to the seats in front of my desk. “Sure! Sit down.”
They shuffle over to the chairs and place a large plastic bag of round pin badges on my desk.
“We’ve got tons of options,” Luka says. “You don’t have to take one, of course. Just offering.”
“Hmm, let me have a look,” I replied, trying to keep my voice calm.
I can’t blow my cover.
How bad would that be though? These kids would obviously support me? Do they know? Does everyone know? Am I an oblivious idiot?
I shuffle through the pins. My thumb grazes over the trans flag but I don’t pick it up. Same thing with the aroace flag. Pretty colours. I got lucky with both my flags! But, no, I’m a coward and can’t muster up the courage to take some pins.
I hold up a classic rainbow flag pin and turn it around to the boys. “May I have this one?”
“Of course.” Luka smirks.
“It’s great work you’re doing, kids. It’s good to normalise things like this. I’m proud of you both.”
I clip the pin onto my lanyard.
Yeah.
That looks good.
Will it piss off some of my colleagues? Yes. Do I care? No.
Okay, maybe I do care a little bit. Sue me! I’m trying.
Younger me would have killed to feel supported by a teacher. Or even an adult for that matter. So I’m happy to be the “woke” teacher.
Whatever that means.
Teenage slang confuses me.
Is that teenage slang?
Who cares?
──────
I can’t stop thinking.
And, man, I’ve realised so much about myself.
Yeah, I’m a coward. But I can work with that.
I’ve always been scared of what people think of me. I don’t like rumours or speculation. I don’t want to hear people laughing at me.
But I’m a grown adult now. I have dominance in my classroom. Kids respect me (thanks guys!). And I couldn’t give a toss about what my colleagues might whisper behind my back.
I can stand up for myself.
Or cry alone in my apartment because someone was rude.
Which actually might be cathartic! So it’s all positive over here!
(Slight sarcasm. I’d rather not cry.)
Anyway, this thinking has resulted in me making a purchase.
I bought myself an aroace and a trans pin for my lanyard.
So, yeah, fudge it!
I’m Dr. Ryland Grace. I have a PhD in molecular biology. I teach science at Grover Cleveland Middle. I love my job. I’m also trans and aroace. And I am proud of all of that.
And, yes, my coffee cups all have dumb science jokes on them.
What do you call an acid with a bad attitude?
A mean-o acid!