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Teacher Agency and Access to LGBTQ Young Adult Literature

Authors:
Teacher Agency
and
Access
to
LGBTCXYoimg
Adult Iiteratnre
BY
EMILY MEIXNER
I
n the spring
of
2004,
I
solicited
undergraduate students
in the
English education program
I
coordi-
nate
at
The College
of
New Jersey
to
participate
in an
independent study on
LGBTQ young adtJt literature. For sev-
eral years I had wanted to teach a course
on this topic. As
a
former high school
teacher,
I
was
all too
familiar with the day-
to-day verbal
and
physical violence
described
by the
LGBTQ students
who responded
to ^^^^^
the
Gay,
Lesbian
and
Straight Education
Network's 2003 National
School Climate Survey,
close
to
84%
of
whom
reported experiencing verbal harassment
at school and more than 90% of whom
indicated that they regularly hear anti-
gay sentiments expressed
in
their
schools hallways, bathrooms, locker-
rooms, and classrooms.'
In
my current
role as
a
teacher educator,
I
am particu-
larly concerned about teachers' contri-
butions
to
this violence, especially as
I
learn more about my pre-service teach-
ers'
hesitancy
to
advocate openly
for
their LGBTQ students and colleagues.
In my reading and writing methods
classes,
as
my students and
I
examine
the ways
in
which schools often repli-
cate racial, class, and gender inequities,
we discuss and practice approaches that
are democratic, student-centered,
and
contextually relevant. Unfortunately,
and despite their preparation
and
expressed commitment
to
safe class-
NUMBER
76
RADICAL TEACHER
rooms, when my students encounter
evidence
of
heterosexism and homo-
phobia
in
school, many remain uncer-
tain about whether they should inter-
vene.
Astonishingly 83%
of
LBGTQ
students repon that their teachers con-
sistently do not.^ Aware that teacher
advocacy and intervention can make
a
/ was
curious
about thepmver
of
stories
to
elicit
empathy.
significant difference
in the
school
experiences
of
LGBTQ adolescents,
I
felt
a
need
to
examine these issues
in
an English education course that
would engage literary and educational
theory, and would provide an integrat-
ed model of English teaching methods
with discussions about the power and
purposes of literature.
I was drawn
to a
study
of
young
adtilt literature
for
two reasons. First,
I
was curious about the power of stories
to elicit empathy.
I
wondered
if
these
stories could provide my students with
an opportunity
to
experience (albeit
vicariously) what their future LGBTQ
middle and high school students might
be going through
their feelings,
their stru^es and successes,
and the
experiences through which they were
and were not marginalized. As typically
"good students" themselves students
who attend
a
selective, public liberal
arts college and who believe
in
sec-
ondary schools because they were
served well by them
my pre-service
teachers often have difficulty putting
themselves
in the
place
of
students
whose experiences have not been near-
ly
as
successful:
stu-
dents who stni^le aca-
demically or socially,
or
who resist school
because they find
it
oppressive, injurious,
.1 .1111
and/or unsafe. These
stories,
I
hoped, would help
make the imaginary real.
The second reason
was
curricular.
Not
only
did I
want my students to become
aware of their LGBTQ students' expe-
riences;
I
also wanted them
to
be able
to share, recommend, and read these
texts
in
their classrooms. The more
familiar they were with them,
I
believed, the more likely they wotild be
to use them
in
classes And
the
more
they did that, the more opportunities
they would have
to
combat heterosex-
ism
and
homophobia and stem
the
tide
of
violence currently perpetrated
on LGBTQ students in schools. At the
time,
I
anticipated that
a
personal and
pedagogical eng^ement with the liter-
ature would produce these kinds
of
political results.
As
I
began to advertise the class, sev-
eral students immediately expressed
interest. Five ultimately decided to par-
ticipate,
all
heterosexual women,
but
varied
in
age, racial background,
and
13
life experiences a remarkably diverse
group considering the overwhelm-
ing youth and racial homo-
geneity of the pre-service
teachers enrolled in
the rest of my
would not only practice, but enact
civic participation.
Second, the course needed to "teach
queerly" and "transgress" by requiring
us to think beyond specific school or
classroom instances of violence and
classes.^ Once I had
assembled a willing group of
participants, I began, in earnest, to
construct the course. Attempting to
model the kind of teaching I wanted
my students to enact, I worked from
three pedagogical principles.
First, the course needed to be democ-
ratic;
it needed to be student-centered
and participatory, and, as Michael
Apple and James Beane contend, to
establish structural, procedural, and
curricular "arrangements and opportu-
nities that will bring democracy to
life.""*
The course would, therefore,
require on-going contributions from
each student. Policy, purpose, and
meaning would all be mutually consti-
tuted as our classroom community
became a place in which my students
examine the effects of the heterosexism
and homophobia present in our own
lives and the institutions with which
we were associated.^ In addition to
studying the experiences of the adoles-
cents in the literature we were reading,
we would also need to read our own
life stories, casting a critical eye on our
own ideologies and how our lives in
schools, churches, and families as well
as our encounters with the media and
other public and private institutions
shaped who we were and what we
hoped to accomplish as teachers.
Finally, the course needed to provide
a model of empowering education so
that students would come away from
the experience with a greater sense of
their own personal and professional
agency. It needed to relate personal
growth to public life and show how in-
class experiences can lead to greater
self-awareness and social change. As
my students read, conducted research,
and shared findings with one other, I
hoped the course would provide them
with a broader vision of what they
could accomplish both in and outside
of their classrooms.
At the time, although aware that I
could not predict my students'
responses to the readings or the course
itself,
1
was fairly certain I had assem-
bled enough evidence for them to
understand why too many schools
by failing to advocate for and protect
their LBGTQ students become
institutional sites of violence against
them. 1 was also confident that the
pedagogical practices I planned to
model would help my students inter-
vene in their own classrooms. What
actually happened during the semester,
however, challenged my understanding
of the role that literature can play in
the development of pre-service teach-
ers'
social consciousness and political
agency, and forced me to see beyond
the texts and the limited space of our
individual classroom.
REACTrONS: READING
BEYOND THE TEXTS
While 1 wanted my students to com-
pare and contrast their experiences
with those of the characters they were
encountering, I was unprepared for the
amount of personal storytelling the
texts initially seemed to provoke.^
Particularly in the first couple of weeks,
I found myself increasingly and unex-
pectedly anxiotis because we seemed to
be talking less and less about the books
and more and more about ourselves.
What exactly were my students learn-
ing? I wondered after our first two
seminars. Education, argues Kevin
Kumashiro, is about "crisis"; it is
"about learning something new, some-
thing different; education is about
change...education (especially the
process of learning something that tells
us that the very ways in which we think
and do things is not only wrong but
also harmfiil) can be a very discomfit-
ing process."'' Although I recognized
that my students were using our dis-
cussions to build trust, understanding,
and a sense of their own identity as a
RADICAL TEACHER NUMBER 76
group, I worried that their desire to
share their own experiences was more
about self-affirmation than it was
about the kind of education
Kumashiro describes. As each of my
students juxtaposed the characters'
experiences with their own, the read-
ings became personally meaningful,
eliciting memories, emotions, and
knowledge that each student had to
in her own way revisit and recon-
sider. Yet, even though my students
seemed critical as they identified {or
not) with the characters in the books, 1
worried that we were losing sight of the
violence against LGBTQ students I
had intended the literature to illustrate.
Initially,
1
was also frustrated with the
literal way in which my students were
conceiving of the texts' uses. Virtually
all of their comments in those first two
weeks concerned the texts' "teachabili-
ty." Citing conservative "current school
politics," one of my students, Jessica,
was convinced that these materials
would never be approved by a school
board and make their way into the cur-
rictilum. Nevertheless, she saw them as
important professional resources.
"Even if they cannot talk about [these
issues] as a class in the building," she
wrote, "it is the responsibility of the
teacher to tell the students where they
can find the information."
By mid-semester, the group's respons-
es started to change. While my students
continued to narrate their experiences
alongside those of the characters they
were encountering, their comments
also began to evidence what Chevalier
and Houser describe as a "heightened
awareness": "an increased contempla-
tion concerning history and cultural
stereotypes, the diminished life chances
of members of disadvantaged groups,
and the challenges faced by members of
diverse communities attempting to
maintain their cultural identities."^ The
context in which the charaaers' stories
and, therefore, their own narratives
took place was becoming increasit^-
ly significant. For Sarah, understanding
this relationship between the individual
and his or her larger community was
especially important. "I am recogniz-
ing," she wrote,
that young people who feel like they
have no community need to find
one and because they are outside of
the mainstream community some-
times join together to form one. I
still feel a concern for all people
trapped in a position where they feel
outside, but I am beginning to rec-
ognize a cenain understanding for
portraying communities as a major
pan of identity.
Whereas she had initially approached
the texts and her character analyses
rather narrowly, she was beginning to
understand the importance of examin-
ing experiences more broadly in order
to see and unpack larger institutional
effects.
My students' conversations about the
texts'
teachability were also shifting
students. We began to look more
specifically at my own students' class-
room aspirations and at what they
might need to do to make their class-
rooms safer learning spaces. They also
began to contemplate how
they
would
be perceived if they used these texts in
their teaching. Their work, they real-
ized, might be subject to the same
prej-
udice, the same individual and institu-
tional violence.
This concern with perceptions of
their teaching and themselves indicated
a growing awareness that they were
both subjects of and agents within
a social and political space
larger than their class-
room. My students'
in part, I believe, because of a series of
articles I had asked them to read that
described teachers actively working to
combat heterosexism and homophobia
in their schools and classrooms.'^
Contrary to what they had previously
thought, teachers were disctissing sexu-
ality and sexual orientation with thejr
developing sense of
themselves as professionals
now included an awareness of
their position within schools as institu-
tions connected to larger communities.
Whether or not the texts themselves
were teachable became less important
to the group than how their work as
NUMBER 76 RADICAL TEACHER
teachers might be enmeshed in a net-
work of power relationships that
extended into the diverse communities
in which they would be teaching.
Because of this, I believe, my stu-
dents began to wonder how their class-
room support of LGBTQ students
could and needed to be complemented
by similar efforts in larger institutional
settings. Similarly, as they were discov-
ering what they could do as teachers,
they were also beginning to sense that
they might have some agency outside
their classrooms as well. This they were
curious about. What, they wondered,
would they be able to accomplish insti-
tutionally in their own schools as well
as in the communities their schools
served?
THE FINAL PROJECT: BEYOND
THE CLASSROOM
In the last month of the course, as my
students began to disctiss their final
projects, they determined that they
wanted them to counteract hetero-
sexism and homophobia by provid-
ing substantive and socially respon-
sible learning opportunities for the
students they would be teaching.
Initially, each suggested an individ-
ual project: an ethnography of a
school that exemplified tolerance and
safety for LGBTQ students, a curricu-
lar unit that focused explicitly on rep-
resentations of gender and sexuality, a
short play composed of monologues
about LGBTQ students' experiences,
and so on.
When I had conceived of the course,
these were
exactly the
kinds of con-
sciousness-rais-
ing classroom
projects I had
imagined.
Each project,
in its own way,
attempted to
understand
and address
the violence
LGBTQ stu-
dents face in school. It had not
occurred to me that my students might
want to move beyond observation and
reflection (the ethnography) or applied
methodology (the curricular unit and
the play), or need to
step outside of their
(imagined) classrooms
to investigate and
actively engage the insti-
tutional structures that
support and undermine
their classroom prac-
tices.
As a result, I was
surprised when my stu-
dents decided to aban-
don their individual
ideas.
Instead and
independent of me
they met, discussed, and designed an
action research project in which they
would investigate adolescents' access to
books such as those we had been read-
ing in class in their school and local
public libraries.
As Erika, the group's elected repre-
sentative, explained to me in a meeting
she called to pitch the idea, the project
If they were going
to
teach
queerly, they would need
institutional support
had several strengths. First, she argued,
it was authentically student-centered in
that it had developed out of their
emerging questions about the relation-
ship between access to these types of
books and the limits of (or limitations
on) institutional support for LGBTQ
youth. Second, the project would be
democratic. Together the students
would create an interview protocol
which they would all follow. Then,
each of the students would visit and
conduct interviews with librarians at
four libraries including two
county/public libraries, one high
school library, and one middle school
library. Once all of the interviews had
been completed, they would compile
and analyze their findings. Third, the
project would be community-based
and provide them with a clearer sense
of the process through which library
collections were built as well as their
various communities' attitudes regard-
ing LGBTQ issues and LGBTQ ado-
lescents' concerns.
This,
Erika said, was particularly
important because not only did it
highlight institutional
interrelationships by
demonstrating the ways
in which two public
spaces, the school and
the public library, either
worked together or at
odds with each other; it
also provided my stu-
dents with an opportu-
nity to begin building
institutional partner-
ships as they networked
with local librarians. If
they were going to combat heterosex-
ism and hotnophobia in their individ-
ual classrooms if they were going to
teach queerly they would need
institutional support and these part-
nerships would be crucial.
At the time, I was impressed with
the thoughtfulness of her presentation
as well as with the way in which my
students were attempting to engage
all of the foundational principles
around which the course had been
organized, but I was hesitant. Even
though I thought the project was
interesting, student-centered, and
community-based, I was not con-
vinced that it would enable them to
advocate for their fiiture LGBTQ stu-
dents in the same way that their indi-
vidual projects did. Still caught up in
classroom interventions (and even
after approving the proposal), I could
not see that my students were think-
ing more broadly about the project's
possibilities than I was.
Having hammered out details, the
group designed their interview proto-
col and headed out to their designated
libraries. In the protocol, they request-
ed information about the number of
volumes in the libraries' adolescent col-
lections as well as the percentage or
number of those texts that dealt
specif-
ically with issues pertaining to adoles-
cent gender and sexuality. They also
asked a series of questions about the
process through which books were
added to the collection, challenges to
books currently available at the library,
the librarians' familiarity with books
on, by, or about LGBTQ youth, acade-
mic and public requests for these
books, and the availability of (library-
based) outreach programs specifically
targeted toward LGBTQ adolescents.
1«RADICAL TEACHER NUMBER 76
RESULTS AND REACTIONS
As the students conducted their inter-
views,
they were met with both enthu-
siasm and resistance from the librarians
with whom they spoke. Although sev-
eral responded suspiciously to the stu-
dents'
inquiries, most were helpfijl and
genuinely excited to have an opportu-
nity to talk about their collections.
Fourteen of the twenty librarians stated
that they were familiar with at least
several LGBTQ young adult titles.
And, even if they did not have wide-
ranging knowledge of the genre or the
subject matter, they (along with the
other six Ubrarians who had not read
any LGBTQ young adult literature)
felt confident that they could make
informed recommendations when and
if they were asked.
What the students discovered, howev-
er, was that rarely had the librarians
been asked. Very few could recall being
approached by students, parents, or
other patrons looking for young adult
books about adolescent sexuality or with
gay and lesbian characters or themes.
Librarians at the public libraries cited
very few inquiries from teachers. The
It was possible for
libraries^
like
schoolsf
to perpetuate as
well as perpetrate
violence
against LGBTQ youth.
sittiation at school libraries differed only
slighdy. There, librarians felt that their
collections enhanced classroom instruc-
tion, but they rarely received requests
from teachers for book talks on or texts
about LGBTQ adoles-
cents or adolescent sexu-
ality. In most cases, they
asserted, students were
simply not researching
these topics in class.
Only in one high school
library a school with a
very active Gay-Straight
Alliance did a librari-
an recollect teachers reg-
ularly seeking our books
on adolescent gender and
sexuality.
And, to my students' surprise, most
of the LGBTQ literature they encoun-
tered in school collections was non-fic-
tion rather than fiaion. Only Erika, in
her interview with a librarian at a com-
munity library that was located right
next to the local public high school,
encountered a fairly sizeable collection
of LGBTQ fiction targeted specifically
at young adults. Again, my students
were informed, this was because the
collections were
designed to support
school curricula. While
the librarians certainly
hoped to attend to indi-
vidual students' inter-
ests and needs, this was
often not their primary
goal. Instead, they were
responsible for building
"academic collections,"
collections that reflected
the reading expectations
and research require-
ments (the "official knowledge") sanc-
tioned by the school.'"
Rarely did any of the libraries provide
LGBTQ outreach. None of the public
libraries provided book talks, discus-
sion groups, speakers, or pro-
grammatic opportunities
specif-
ically targeted toward LBGTQ
adolescents and their families.
(Of
course,
"one would be held
if people showed enough inter-
est," said one librarian.) At the
middle schools, outreach was
not quite so infrequent, because
of their affiliations with high
schools. For example, many of the
middle school librarians cited support
such as a gay-straight read-in, a stu-
dent/community forum on LGBTQ
concerns, and the existence of Gay-
Straight Alliances and
Parents, Family and
Friends of Lesbians
and Gays (PFLAG) at
their associated high
schools. Of the high
school librarians to
whom my students
spoke, only one of the
five expressed serious
reservations about pro-
viding LGBTQ out-
reach through the
library. Outreach was
the responsibility of guidance, she stat-
ed, and LGBTQ support organizations
"would lead to ridicule and controversy
in the district." In contrast, the other
four librarians were much more open
to and familiar with the aforemen-
tioned outreach opfwrtunities.
Reflecting on their experience, all of
my students agreed that it had been
useful. Because of their research, they
were much more aware of what
LGBTQ library
resources were and
were not available to
youth in their commu-
nities and, therefore,
what was available to
them as teachers. More
importantly, they
learned a lesson that
went beyond their
classrooms, a lesson
about the institutions
in which and with
which they would be
working: my students acquired a clear-
er and more complex understanding of
how libraries operate specifically, of
how texts are selected and categorized,
who has jurisdiction over those selec-
tions,
and how selections differ
depending on a particular library's
patrons and purpose. No longer were
public libraries neutral repositories.
Instead, my students discovered that
libraries actively engaged in political
work as their collections either con-
formed to or challenged local, regional,
and national prejudices against homo-
sexuals. It was possible for libraries, like
schools, to perpetuate as well as perpe-
trate violence against LGBTQ youth.
Despite my earlier reservations about
their research, my students had been
right. The interviews had not been, as
Kumashiro warns, about repetition.
Instead, they learned that the ways in
which we (in this case schools and
public libraries) think and do things is
harmful. Confronted with a general
lack of information, books, perceived
interest, and on-going outreach, they
learned an important lesson about how
institutional violence works.
As a result, several of my students
began to take a longer, harder look at
their local and school communities.
Erika was struck by the "correlations
between school libraries and public
NUMBER 76 RADICAL TEACHER17
libraries because it showed how respon-
sive or supportive, or not, the public
libraries (and librarians) were of the
school district's needs." Jessica, too,
found the interviews "helpful because
[they] allowed us to see what resources
were available to our students in the
libraries they frequent" and becatise the
group had "a chance to really look into
what our students were being offered
in our community."
For others, the interviews prompted
them to consider the relationship
between individual and institutional
power more fully. This was particularly
true for Chris as she contemplated the
effect a librarians sense of social, politi-
cal,
and educational purpose had on
the existing collection. Throughout the
project, she came to understand that
institutional support for LGBTQ ado-
lescents was inherently tied
tO;
(though
not reducible to) individual ^ioice: in
this case, what resources each Ibrarian
chose to order and thereby tmtde avail-
able to the students in his or her
school. "Examining the way in Vhich
this literature is regarded in both pub-
lic and school libraries was enligli|[en-
ing," she said. "It appears that the lads
are best served by the libraries in their
schools. Though even this is in dmibr
depending on how the librarian ssees
her
job:
as a servant or as a sentinclJ^
The significance of an individjual's
actions was reinforced in their c<^ver-
sations with the public and jl^hool
librarians. My students were regularly
asked to make book recommendacibas,
recommendations which the various
librarians took seriously. If the librari-
ans were not familiar with available
and appropriate texts,
Ttry sttuients were
and they discovered that their knowl-
edge could actually provide an institu-
tional intervention by helping to make
sure that texts written hy, about, and
for LGBTQ adolescents became avail-:
able to students who wanted and need-
ed them.
In these moments, my students as
teachers as well as members of their
respective communities learned that
they could effect institutional change.
By making the effort to express an
interest and share information, they
could help transform school and com-
munity libraries into safer, better
informed, more inclusive public spaces.
If we expect new
teachers
to take action
against on-going
school
violence,
consciousness-
raising is not nearly
enough.
This was a particularly empowering
realization, one that could not have
been achieved solely in a classroom or
through the in-class study of LGBTQ
young atfeiii; literature.
FINAL THOUGHT
As 1 look back on this experience, I
now recognize that my assumptions
about the role of liiKrature in develop-
ing pre-service teachers' social and
political consciousness were shortsight-
ed. Yes, literature can educate by elicit-
ing empathy. But, as I discovered
through my aiidenrs' final project, if
we expect new teachers to rake aaion
againsj;
on-going school viol«ice, con-
sciotisness-raising
is
not n^^ly er«H>gh.
As students read LGBTQ ^ung ac!t^
literature or any other litaafature for
thar matter they must be provided
with on-going opportunitite to under-
stand how and why texts become high-
ly contested poUtical tools. My course
as I first conceived of
it
did not do this,
nor did it go far enough in helping my
students undraraand the role they play
in determining how those tools aie
(atui are not) |Hit to use. -
-?is
for pedagogy: my students' project
made me reconsider wither or not 1
was effectively modelirtg democcatic
practices in class and wh^er
s\i<h
in-
class practices are entir^ possft^le.
Although I wanted the cxperiend? to
be stude^c-centered, throi^out the
semester I found myself con«antly re-
evaluatiog my own expectations and
desires. Who was the course about?
What did I want my students to learn?
How did I want them to learn it?
What did they need to know? My
answeR changed as my students* own-
ership of the course increased. These
on-rgoing negotiations were as uncom-
fortable as they were necessary. They
reminded me that democracy can not
really be modeled. It has to be lived.
Similarly, whereas I had endeavored
to teach queerly by identifying and
analyzing sites of heterosexism and
homophobia within the relative safety
of our college classroom, my students'
project challenged me to consider
whether or not the pedagogy I envi-
sioned required, instead, that we move
beyond conventional classroom
boundaries. Instead of merely casting a
critical eye on ideologies and institu-
tions,
teaching queerly required me
us to actively engage these sites,
questioning and challenging them, ren-
dering their participation in school vio-
lence against LGBTQ youth visible.
Finally, my students' research required
me to rethink what I meant by empow-
erment. Even beyond the interventions
that occur in classrooms and schools,
toy students' research taught me that
pre-SCTWc^ teachers' professional prepa-
ration mijst extend into much larger
public spices if they are to understand
the pol^cal context of the school com-
muniiy in which they are to work.
And, as their understanding develops,
teacher educators need to prepare them
fiw and help them respond to the
resis-
s
tance diey are likely to face in their
ciassrooitis and communities when they
chaflengc heterosexist and homophobic
ins^utional practices. i
Yet, while my students became!
empowered as they took action in this
project, I hesitate to defme their expe-
rience as "radical." Radical teaching
and raidical teachers recognize that the
kind of crisis experienced by my stu-
dents is often on-going. It requires a
long-term commitment to being '
urreomfortable and constantly revisit-
ing, as Kumashiro says, "the very ways
in which we think and do things."
Tlierefore, despite their newfound
awareness, the powerful lesson my stu-
dents learned about the need for insti-
tutional intervention, and their
increased sense of political agency, I
worry that without regularly discomfit-
ing experiences, they will lose their
desire to look beyond their classrooms
to become radical teachers.
Without sustained programmatic sup-
port, I fear that they will retreat from
their active pursuit of institutional
equity and focus their energy and
attention on the consciousness-raising
RADICAL TEACHER NUMBER 76
methodology that I now believe is not
enough to cotnbat heterosexism and
homophobia. Even having conducted
their research, my students evidenced
this shift.
As the semester ended, only Erika
explicitly continued to imagine institu-
tional alternatives and express concerns
about how the work she boped to
accomplisb could be enhanced by or
witbin a sympatbetic institutional cli-
mate. Describing the kind of district in
wbich she wanted to work, she envi-
sioned one that would "support teach-
ers'
efforts to widen students' horizons
rather than a district that would force
me to stand alone on such issues."
Jessica and Chris, in contrast, re-
affirmed their commitment to litera-
ture itself
by
promising to keep abreast
of new titles and regularly updating
their personal collections. "I don't
know if [my personal collection] wotiid
ever become a 'lending library',"
admitted Chris, "bur at least I could
point to a book when a kid asked for
guidance or information." Despite her
awareness ofthe ways in which institu-
tional lack of
access
to the texts consti-
tuted an act of violence, Chris's awowed
personal (private) commitment to the
literature did not seem to direcdy chal-
lenge it.
Jalisa returned to the spac« of her
own classroom. "I will no longer
ignore the word faggot In mf class-
room," she asserted. Iasttad,
siw
vowed
to "stop whatever I'm doing at the time
and refet my students to our classroom
conduct contract, which lists this type
of name calling ^ sexual-harassment.
Then I'm going to reiterate my lesson
on sexual harassment." However,
whether she and hit students would
identify and attempt to address sexual
harassment outside of her classroom,
or whether she would
txiUst
the sup-^
pon and assistance dTlocal institutions
and organizations m doing so, I could
not tell.
Sarah, too, wrote abcHit the work she
intended to do in her dbssroom. As a
result of the course, she felt she could
advocate for her LGBTQ students
more openly. Yet, at the same time and
despite her awareness thgi her in-class
efforts would require insfitutional sup-
port, she seetrod to abdicate responsi-
bility for cultivating it. ^lile she rec-
ognized that "my classroom and my
relationships with my students do not
have to be subject co the kind of quiet
avoidance other teachers face," she
shared, "I still maintain that I should
wait until I am an established faculty
member before making any move-
ments that will affect an entire school."
Even though she successfully chal-
lenged several library collections during
her interviews, her activism retreated
back into the private space of her
future classroom.
Thus,
while I believe the course did
provide my students with an experi-
ence that will make them better advo-
cates for their LGBTQ students, and
while I contend that engaging in this
action-research project was crucial to
their developing social consciousness
and political agency, how both ulti-
mately affect their teaching remains to
be seen. As they graduate and begin
teaching, I continue to hope that they
will remember and hold onto this
experience that they will continue
to engage inequitable institutions
and that increased institutional aware-
ness will inform the way in which they
Wjrk to counteract violence and
for irtily safe schools.
GLSEN, 2003 National School
Climate Survey,
Ibttpi/^www.^^en .org
GLSEN, 2003 National School
Climate Survey.
Most of my students were white,
middle-clasi, heterosexual women
in their early twenties. In terms of
the five students who enrolled in
the course, Erika, Sarah, and
Jessica
Vftax
representative of this
particular |>opulation. Jalisa was a
married ,\frican American woman
in her early
thirties,
the mother of
a young daughter, and a military
veteran. Chris was a married white
woman in her early fifties with
thr« college-aged children.
, M.W. & Beane, J.A. (Eds.)
).
Democratic
Schools.
ia,
VA:
ASCD, p. 7.
Sears,
J.T (1999) "Teaching
Queerfy and Some Elementary
Prt^ositiofis." In Letts, WJ. &
Sears,
J.T (Eds.) (1999)
Queering
Elementary
Education:
Advancing
the
Dialog
about Sexualities
and
Schooling.
New
York:
Rowman
&C
Littlefield Publishers, Inc.; hooks,
b.
(1994).
Teaching to
Tramgress:
Education as the Practice
of
Freedom.
New
York:
Routledge.
6 We were reading: Bauer, M.D.
(Ed.) (1994). Am I
Blue? Coming
Out from
the
Silence.
New York:
HarperTrophy; Howe. J. (2003).
The
Misfits.
New
York:
Aladdin;
Garden, N. {\^^2). Annie
on
My
Mind.
New
York:
Farrar, Straus &
Giroux; Levithan, D. (2003).
Boy
Meets
Boy.
New
York:
Knopf
Books for Young Readers.
7 Kumashiro, K. (2000). "Teaching
and Learning through Desire,
Crisis, and Difference: Perverted
Reflections on Anti-Oppressive
Education."
Radical
Teacher,
58,
p.
7.
8 Chevalier, M. & Houser, N.O.
(1997).
"Preservice Teachers'
Multictiltural Self-Development
Through Adolescent Fiction."
Joumal of
Adolescent
& Adult
Literacy,
40, (6), p. 426-237.
9 For example: Allan, C. (July
1999).
"Poets of Comrades:
Addressing Sexual Orientation" In
the English Classroom,
English
Journal;
Bravo, E. & Miller, L.
(1994).
What Can Teachers Do
About Sexual Harassment? In
R^inking
Schools:
Teaching For
Equity
and
Justice.
Milwaukee, WI:
Rethinking Schools; Gordon, L.
(1994).
What Do We Say When
We Hear 'Fa^ot'? In Rethinking
Schools:
Teaching For Equity
and
Justice.
Milwatikee, WI:
Rethinking Schools; Johnston, A.
(2001).
Out Front: What schools
can do to fight homophobia. Bil!
Bigelow et al. (Eds.). Rethinking
Our
Classrooms:
Teaching for
Equity
and
Justice,
Vol.
2. Milwaukee, WI:
Retbinking Schools.
10 SeeWheIan,D.L (2006). "Out
and Ignored."
School Library
Journal,
52, (1), p. 46-50; Apple,
M.W. (1993).
Official
Knowledge:
Democratic Education
in a
Conservative
Age.
New York:
RoutledgeFalmer. C53
NUMBER 76 RADICAl TEACHER19
... Readers and viewers develop understanding of their own lives and the world around them through the stories with which they engage. YA literature, specifically, has been shown to influence readers' empathy and understandings of themselves and others (Gardner, 2008;Kidd & Costano, 2013;Jacobs, 2006;Meixner, 2006;Sherr & Beise, 2015). In YA, as in all forms of media, active and accurate inclusion and critical analysis of texts depicting diverse life experiences are power and equity issues (Hermann-Wilmarth, 2007;Kellner & Share, 2005). ...
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In this critical content analysis of thirty-seven contemporary realistic fiction books about adoption, the authors examine how adoption and adoptive families are depicted in young adult literature. The critical literacy theoretical frame brings into focus significant social implications of these depictions as the researchers illuminate and resist stereotypes in an effort to advocate for inclusiveness and respect. Analysis reveals a strong presence of literary archetypes such as Orphan and Seeker, age-old patterns of narration that resound with readers at deep but not necessarily conscious levels and thus may lend a sense of credibility and familiarity to even problematic portrayals. These stories provide a content for exploring cultural and social identities but are also rife with negative stereotypes, including adoption as a shameful secret, a problem to be solved, or a legally suspect event. Negative portrayals of birth parents and imbalanced gender perspectives suggest that adoption is a feminine story and marginalizes fathers. Overall, adoption literature raises significant questions about what family structures and contexts are valued, who has power and choice in relationships, and how adolescents are positioned and viewed, but the complex picture of what adoption looks like and means for those involved needs to be more carefully considered.
... Paradoxically, it is the schools -pivotal socialization agents -that fail to function properly. This failure finds expression in the nurturing of a homophobic and oppressive atmosphere (Smith, 2007); in demeaning attitudes of teachers (Meixner, 2006;Mudrey & Medina-Adams, 2006); and in the failure to provide relevant and accurate information on homosexuality (Uribe & Harbeck, 1992). A research report of The Israeli Gay Youth Organization supports this state of affairs and provides data regarding the Israeli education system: Out of 390 GLBT respondents, 31% complained that most students had uttered homophobic comments, 55% reported that teachers had ignored these comments and 23% complained that teachers themselves had made such comments. ...
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The study examines internet newsgroups as a potential mitigating tool in the complex coming-out process of gay male youth. Employing a qualitative discourse analysis of the newsgroup’s messages, the chapter focuses on an Israeli newsgroup that appeals to GLBT (gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender) youth and operates within the most popular UGC (user-generated content) portal in Israel. The findings indicate that the researched newsgroup functions as a social arena that offers its participants an embracing milieu, where for the first time in their lives they are free of moral judgment of their sexuality. Through four distinct yet interrelated ways, the newsgroup helps its participants to cope with one of the most significant milestones in a gay person’s life – the coming-out process: (1) refuting prevalent stereotypes of homosexuality; (2) facilitating the acceptance of one’s sexual orientation; (3) prompting its disclosure; and (4) creating social relations within and outside the virtual environment.
... These characters may dress or act in ways that are opposite of their biological sex. Teachers make the observations pertaining to acceptance of all types of people, but may not discuss the differences between gender expression (ways of dress and actions), gender variance (fluidity of expression), and gender identity (innermost concept of self as male, female, or transgender) (Meixner, 2006;Rabinowitz, 2004). ...
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This article provides a rationale for and methods to assist elementary educators in creating spaces where the enhancement of awareness of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer/questioning (LGBTQ)-themed literature could be explored in elementary schools and classrooms. The authors assert that an approach to providing gender and sexuality diversity in the elementary grades is part of multicultural practice in elementary classrooms. Through document analysis, the authors discovered the existing theories, practices, and evidence available in the literature that would provide elementary educators support to use LGBTQ-themed children's literature in academic spaces. The authors then provide a set of guidelines for educators to modify their existing instructional practices in order to empower young learners with the critical literacy attributes necessary in order to gain access to knowledge, power, and opportunities. © 2016 University of Massachusetts Amherst College of Education.
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This chapter seeks to centralize the practical applications of mirrors/windows theory within K-12 curricula, pedagogies, and training. In order to inform the basis for this historical overview, these authors looked to the history of LGBTQ+ themes and awareness within the United States' K-12 education system. Purposeful educational advocacy for LGBTQ+ identities, voices, and representations within can be bolstered by viewing previous perceptions, practices, and pedagogies that shaped LGBTQ+ existences in past decades. The authors of this chapter pinpoint the 1990s as a theoretical cornerstone of contemporary advocacy for LGBTQ+ students while the 2000s, 2010s, and 2020s mark notable shifts in educational curricula, question societal norms in tandem with previously nonexistent resources for LGBTQ+ advocacy, and provide more equitable training for educators. Based on these findings, the authors assert that genuine advocacy for LGBTQ+ identities within K-12 education can best be accomplished by building frameworks fueled by the theoretical implications of mirrors/windows theory.
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Hayn, Clemmons, and Olvey describe how Standard VI, the new standard for social justice in Secondary English Language Arts (SELA) teacher preparation, informs how to plan instruction responsive to students’ individual identities based on gender expression. The chapter provides an essential motivation for teachers to prioritize and advocate for including trans* young adult literature in the SELA high school curriculum. They advocate for examining the beliefs, experiences, and understandings of young adult authors who write texts that will serve as a conduit for changing student perceptions, attitudes, and behaviors. The writers select key trans* texts and include suggestions for engagement with their authors on a personal level, thus giving teachers strategies to build a trans* accepting classroom with their students.
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Academic libraries supporting education and library science programs collect youth literature to support courses that teach students to evaluate and use books with children and teenagers. Although children’s and young adult literature with lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) content is often controversial, this literature is being discussed in both the education and library literature. This paper discusses the literature on LGBTQ youth literature, explores the extent to which academic libraries supporting education and library science programs collect recently published LGBTQ youth literature, and concludes that academic librarians responsible for youth collections should evaluate their LGBTQ holdings to ensure that they are meeting the needs of future teachers and educators for access to these books. The paper offers suggestions for assessing collections, locating LGBTQ youth titles, and updating selection procedures to build a more inclusive collection.
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This case looks at an urban high school and the interaction among teachers and administrators regarding the issue of language use at the school. Specifically, the teacher involved challenges heteronormative language. The case is intended to spark critical self-reflection, reflection of institutional norms, analysis of ways in which the status quo gets perpetuated, discussions of teacher and administrator agency and power, awareness of discourse and discourse analysis as well as policy. Included in the analysis and teaching notes is a recommendation for critical self-reflection to occur prior to studying the case. Also recommended prior to reading the case is the assignment of lenses through which students should approach the case (as a student, as a parent, as a teacher, as a school counselor, as an administrator, etc.). Following study of the case, additional analysis and teaching notes are suggested for engaging students in analysis and discussion of language, critical discourse analysis, critical policy analysis, social structure and faculty agency, and democratic education.
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Democratic Schools. ia
  • M W Beane
M.W. & Beane, J.A. (Eds.) ). Democratic Schools. ia, VA: ASCD, p. 7.
Teaching Queerfy and Some Elementary Prt^ositiofis Queering Elementary Education: Advancing the Dialog about Sexualities and Schooling Teaching to Tramgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom
  • J T Sears
Sears, J.T (1999) "Teaching Queerfy and Some Elementary Prt^ositiofis." In Letts, WJ. & Sears, J.T (Eds.) (1999) Queering Elementary Education: Advancing the Dialog about Sexualities and Schooling. New York: Rowman &C Littlefield Publishers, Inc.; hooks, b. (1994). Teaching to Tramgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom. New York: Routledge.
Am I Blue? Coming Out from the Silence
(Ed.) (1994). Am I Blue? Coming Out from the Silence. New York: HarperTrophy; Howe. J. (2003).
Teaching and Learning through Desire, Crisis, and Difference: Perverted Reflections on Anti-Oppressive Education
  • K Kumashiro
Kumashiro, K. (2000). "Teaching and Learning through Desire, Crisis, and Difference: Perverted Reflections on Anti-Oppressive Education." Radical Teacher, 58, p. 7.
What Can Teachers Do About Sexual Harassment?
  • E Bravo
  • L Miller
  • L Gordon
Bravo, E. & Miller, L. (1994). What Can Teachers Do About Sexual Harassment? In R^inking Schools: Teaching For Equity and Justice. Milwaukee, WI: Rethinking Schools; Gordon, L. (1994). What Do We Say When • We Hear 'Fa^ot'? In Rethinking Schools: Teaching For Equity and Justice. Milwatikee, WI: Rethinking Schools;
Out Front: What schools can do to fight homophobia
  • A Johnston
Johnston, A. (2001). Out Front: What schools can do to fight homophobia. Bil! Bigelow et al. (Eds.). Rethinking Our Classrooms: Teaching for Equity and Justice, Vol. 2. Milwaukee, WI: Retbinking Schools.