Teacher Accused: When Homophobia Explodes in a Texas Town

Chapter 1

Education Gazette: Classifieds

Position available for 9th grade English teacher; Edgemont Public Schools; 10-month contract beginning August; enjoy good working/living conditions in small Texas town near Dallas, where education and family values still come first. E-mail inquiries to: www.Edgemont ISD@ATT.com.

Glen McLean was erasing the chalkboard between his fourth and fifth period classes, when he heard a loud crash, like a body pushed hard against the metal lockers that lined the hallway. The crashing sound was followed by mocking laughter and the words Serves him right! Stupid faggot!

Glen stepped quickly from his classroom to see what was going on. A small boy was picking himself up from the concrete floor, an embarrassed and frightened look on his pale face.

What happened? Glen asked.

Nothing happened, the boy said softly. I guess I tripped.

Four boys were farther up the corridor, looking back and laughing. Why did they knock you down? Glen asked. Do you know who they are?

It’s nothing, the boy murmured as he scrambled to pick up his books and notepad, which were scattered on the corridor’s floor. He looked up at Glen. It’s all right … just something that happens. The boy’s dark brown eyes were clouded with hurt and humiliation. His thin hand pushed back the long strands of black hair that had fallen over his forehead.

Is there something I can do to help?

No … thank you. I’m fine. His materials now collected, the effeminate boy half walked, half ran down the shadowy corridor in the opposite direction from the group of laughing boys.

You want a tip? a deep voice called from a classroom doorway. Don’t get involved with things that happen in the halls. That’s the kids’ business, not yours.

What? Glen turned toward Mr. Campbell, the tall, craggy math teacher, who had apparently observed it all. Did you see what happened to that boy?

You mean the Anderson kid? He was just shoved into the lockers. The math teacher laughed cynically. That’s a daily occurrence.

Why do they pick on him? Glen asked, although he already knew the answer.

Can’t you tell? The kid’s probably a queer, and the other kids don’t like that.

Does that give them the right to bully him? Glen was dumbfounded by the math teacher’s casual acceptance, perhaps even approval, of the behavior.

Did it occur to you that they’re doing him a favor? They’re helping the kid see early on how queers are treated. Maybe that’ll help him make a better choice for his life.

Brushing the back of his hand across his mouth, Glen stared blankly at the older man. A choice? Did he really think the boy had made a choice? Too stunned to respond, Glen remained silent for a moment before returning to his classroom.

At the end of the day, Glen sat at his desk, staring at his classroom’s scarred wooden floor but seeing only the hurt look in the Anderson boy’s dark brown eyes. Despite the boy’s words of denial, there was a plea for help in his pain-filled eyes.

Surely, I could have said something more to him. I could have done something more.

Stupid faggot!

Those mocking words just wouldn’t go away. The hate-filled words were directed at the boy, not at Glen, yet Glen felt as vulnerable and upset as if the words had been aimed his way.

Ready, Glen?

Katie Collins came to the doorway of his classroom. Her auburn hair and lightly freckled skin were lit by an inner glow that hinted at fun and a zest for life that Glen found appealing. That’s why he had agreed earlier to go with her to the afterschool gathering, even though he had other plans.

You can follow me to Mary and Ted’s home—if you’re coming, that is. Do come! Please! Their Happy Hour Fridays are always a lot of fun. I’ll wait for you in the parking lot.

****

Ted smiled warmly at Glen. How about a beer? Take your pick—Miller Lite or Shiner Bock?

Shiner sounds great! Glen replied, immediately warming to the round-faced science teacher whose smile revealed a space between his two front teeth. Thanks for inviting me to your party.

Had to, Ted laughed. There’s a woman on our faculty who would have strung me up if I hadn’t. The word is out that you’re not married, right?

Right, Glen agreed.

What about a girlfriend? Ted said, then added in a hushed tone, My wife put me up to this. Mary’s a born matchmaker, but don’t worry; she doesn’t charge a fee. She has a single friend who thinks you are—and I’m quoting—‘a blond Ken.’

A blond Ken? Glen shook his head. Who’s Ken?

Ted laughed. You know, Barbie and Ken—the Barbie dolls. I take it you didn’t grow up playing with Barbie dolls, now did you?

Not exactly, Glen replied, a little embarrassed. So, where is she now? Don’t see anyone charging my way, do you? He spread his arms wide, laughing. Okay, here I am world! Where are you?

Just wait, laughed Ted. Right now I’m fixing to get over to Mary and let her know you’re free and clear—ripe for the picking, as the old farmer says. He jabbed Glen’s arm and left.

Alone for the moment, Glen looked around at the gathering of raucous young teachers crowding the small den area and kitchen. He had seen several at faculty meetings and in the teacher’s lounge, but he didn’t really know them. They all seemed so lighthearted and animated, with their bottles of beer or plastic glasses of white wine in their hands.

Several teachers nodded his way and seemed to welcome him to join them. But they didn’t actually call him over, and feeling a little shy, Glen held back.

Beer in hand, he wandered from the crowded kitchen/den area out onto the patio. Glen barely noticed the wooden deck’s rotted boards or the worn spots on the inexpensive plastic chairs. His attention was on the neatly trimmed boxwood hedges and the patio’s beautiful border areas, alive with rust-colored chrysanthemums and blue and white pansies. He sipped on his beer, allowing the garden’s charm to ease his earlier upset. It was the weekend. His time to enjoy.

Katie stepped onto the patio. No one to talk to? You feeling alone and unloved?

Not anymore, Glen replied, admiring the tints of red in Katie’s auburn hair and the light freckling of her pale skin in the late afternoon sunlight. Not since you stepped out of an Irish tourism ad to join me.

Katie flushed, and her large hazel eyes smiled warmly at Glen. Sorry to disillusion you, but this girl is a Heinz 57 variety. You’re looking at English, Italian, and German bloodlines, plus just enough Irish from my dad’s mother to have freckles. And what about you? she asked. What wonderful bloodlines produced you?

Compared to you, I’m a purebred. Half Scot, half Pole. Easy to reproduce.

Really? Katie said. If that’s so, I’ll take a dozen. She laughed.

Now what does that laugh mean? Glen said. Share the joke with me so that I can laugh too.

Well, if you really want to know, I’ll tell you. Just don’t get a swelled head. In case you don’t already know, you’re making quite an impact on Edgemont High’s ninth-grade girls, and when ninth-grade girls flip, they doodle their feelings everywhere.

Let me guess, Glen said. Mr. McLean is a goofy nerd?

Not exactly, Katie said. One of my students drew a heart with her name and yours inside. And just as a warning, if you ever have occasion to go into the girls’ bathroom, you’ll see a whole lot of doodles—many of which are about you! The girls think you are the best-looking teacher they’ve ever laid eyes on. Just gorgeous, like a movie star! She laughed.

Glen’s cheeks grew warm, and his discomfort increased as he knew Katie probably noticed the reddish glow coloring his fair skin. She was paying him a compliment, and he appreciated that, but he would have preferred to be complimented because of his actions, not his looks.

For a moment, there was silence. Then Katie asked, Tell me what brought you to our town of Edgemont.

"Well, I had worked with my dad in his lumber business outside Albany, New York, and it just wasn’t for me. It wasn’t the life I wanted.

Does that mean you know what life you do want? Katie asked.

Glen hesitated, editing his response to include only what was appropriate for her to hear. I always thought I’d like to be a teacher—maybe a writer too. I majored in English lit in college and took the education courses I’d need in order to teach just in case one day I figured out how to escape the family business. And then one wonderful day—I saw an ad in an education journal about an opening for an English teacher in this small town near Dallas. I applied and, well … here I am standing before you.

Glen changed the topic before Katie could ask any more questions he didn’t want to answer. Anyway, five years moving lumber around has done wonders for my biceps. He flexed his right arm, See?

For a moment, each watched the other in silence. Glen really appreciated this attractive woman. Her wholesome good looks and unpretentious warmth made him want to know her better. She’d make a great friend.

Glen looked at his watch. I’m going to have to run.

Big date? Katie asked casually. Someone you’re involved with?

No … nothing like that, Glen hesitated, just some plans for the evening.

Nosy me. She placed her hand lightly on his arm. See you in school on Monday.

See you Monday, Glen called over his shoulder as he left to thank Ted and his wife for the invitation. Katie likes me, he realized, happy at that realization but feeling uncomfortable at the possibility of her wanting a romantic involvement. It’s too bad. She really is nice.

Chapter 2

Mind if I sit here?

Glen reached for his beer as he turned sideways to look directly at the attractive dark-haired man in the navy-blue suit, white shirt, and red and blue patterned tie.

Matter of fact, I’d be happy if you sat here, Glen said, as long as you intend to talk to me.

You can count on the talking part—maybe more. The man smiled. You know, it’s Friday evening and the night is young. He looked around at the crowded bar. There’s no one here I’d rather talk to.

Glen was silent, not wanting to push things further and risk turning him off. His shoulder brushed against the man’s chest, and Glen felt a rush of warmth. Wow! This guy looks wonderful!

My name is Glen, Glen McLean. He reached out to shake hands as Tammy Wynette’s Stand by Your Man boomed over the bar’s sound system.

I’m Keith. The man took Glen’s hand in a firm grasp. I saw you when you came in. You look great in those Dockers.

Glen paused for Keith to offer his last name, and when he didn’t, Glen said, I’m glad you go for the casual look. As for me, I’m kind of into the dark suit and red tie look.

Glen grew silent, absorbing the electricity between them. For a moment, he looked away across the open bar at the crowds of men standing alone or in small groups. Then Keith turned so that he and Glen faced each other. Since you’re still holding my hand, can I assume you like being with me … as much as I like being with you? Keith’s voice dropped lower.

Now, let’s see, Glen said. Do I like being with you? Hmmm. About six feet tall, trim build, probably works out at the gym, dark hair cut short, strong jaw and sensitive lips—probably good for … Glen laughed. Okay, I like being with you.

Great! Keith replied, because I’m loving what I’m seeing! You’re probably the best looking guy I’ve ever seen. Tell you the truth, my first thought was that you could be a model. Are you?

No. Glen smiled, feeling a rush of good vibes from this appealing man. I’m a high school English teacher who teaches about thirty miles from here, in Edgemont. What about you? I can tell by that suit that you’re not a teacher. Are you a business man … a lawyer? What?

There was an awkward pause, as if Glen had asked an inappropriate question. You prefer I don’t know? Glen asked, confused and sorry he had asked.

Can we wait until we know each other a little better? the man said, obviously uncomfortable. I … well … I make it a policy not to reveal too much about myself to someone I just met at a …

At a gay bar?

Well, yes, Keith said. I’m sorry, but …

Glen felt the awkwardness between them, and for a moment he wondered if their initial attraction would come to nothing. What’s he hiding? Disenchantment replaced the attraction. He’s probably married.

I really like you, Keith said softly, reaching out to take Glen’s hand again. I’m just not used to being in a gay bar. It’s not something I do very often. It’s just that I had a dinner meeting in Dallas, and I knew about the bar … and, well … you know, it’s Friday evening and …

It’s all right, Glen said. "You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, except one thing—and this does matter to me. Are you married?"

No, I’m not married, Keith smiled reassuringly. I’m thirty-two and single and have a mother who can’t understand why her successful son didn’t marry one of the many very appropriate ladies she’s introduced him to.

I can relate to that! Glen said, relieved to feel the tension easing, I’m twenty-eight and single and have a mother who can’t understand why her sensational son wants to be a teacher and why he hasn’t married one of the very appropriate ladies she keeps introducing him to.

Looking into each other’s eyes, they both laughed. Then, impulsively, Keith leaned down and lightly brushed his lips against Glen’s. Do you have plans for later this evening? He cleared the huskiness in his voice. Perhaps we can find somewhere to be alone together.

Glen placed his hand under Keith’s suit jacket around his trim waist. He was tempted to agree to the offer. Why not? There were charges of electricity darting between them, and the thought of going to bed with this man sent electric shivers throughout his body. It wasn’t often that he met someone who appealed to him so greatly. And that was the problem. He didn’t want this meeting to dwindle into a one-time sexual encounter. Glen was silent for a moment more before saying, I don’t know where this is going, especially since five minutes ago we didn’t even know each other, but I’d like to give it a chance to become something more than a one-night stand. If I give you my cell phone number, will you call me?

The light in Keith’s eyes dimmed. Glen saw his disappointment and placed his hand on Keith’s arm. I really do want you to call. We could go to dinner, or maybe a movie. Have a date and get to know each other. Okay? Glen reached for the notepad and short pencil at the edge of the bar. This man was so attractive! He was the type of person Glen had always hoped to meet … to build a life with …

Stop it! Crazy thought! You know nothing about him!

Glen clenched the pencil stub tightly in his fingers, humbled to realize how greatly he longed for a partner to share his life. Quickly, he wrote his phone number on the small paper and handed it to Keith. I hope you’ll call.

Sure … I’ll do that, Keith said flatly as he took the slip of paper from Glen and tucked it in his jacket’s side pocket. You wait for my call, he said, then turned abruptly and walked away.

****

Glen hummed softly to himself as he walked toward his classroom Monday morning. He expected something wonderful was about to happen, and he knew exactly what he wanted it to be. The memory of that chance meeting in the bar had stayed with him, and his anticipation of Keith’s call excited him and kept him on edge all weekend. Although the call hadn’t come, the expectation had not faded.

Glen had had only one previous deep relationship. It had been an upperclassman: a dark-haired, lean man who had stared at him one late fall evening in the college library at Cornell University. Glen, a freshman, caught the older student looking at him, and then, when their eyes met, the attractive youth, Tim, had smiled. The relationship ended two years later. Falling in love had been so easy; it was difficult to imagine falling out of love could be so hard.

For three years following college, Glen tried to live the life his parents had wanted for him. He worked in the family business and lived at home. Then, he had taken an apartment nearer to downtown Albany and entered into the gay life—at least the life afforded by encounters at gay bars. He had several affairs, always short lived and unfulfilling. One, with an older married man, had been especially emotional and painful. It ended one evening when by chance he encountered the man with his wife and two little girls in a restaurant, and the reality of his illicit relationship overwhelmed him with shame. Never again, he vowed. I’ll never again be in a dishonest relationship—a relationship that has to be kept hidden.

It wasn’t just his personal life that had left him unfulfilled. Glen needed a purpose to bring meaning to his life. There was so much pain in the world—so much hurt and suffering—and he wanted to do his share to make the world better. For Glen, that meant becoming a teacher who could nurture young people to new and better ways of thinking.

The catalyst for his career move was a Sunday evening dinner at his parents’ home. He arrived expecting a quiet family dinner with his parents and discovered his mother had invited a date for him. Glen, this is Jennifer. She’s just joined our church, and I thought you might enjoy meeting her.

Not again! Glen groaned. His mother had promised to stop playing matchmaker, and now she’d done it again. And he’d have to spend one more uncomfortable evening with everyone’s eyes on him, waiting to see if the chemistry was right. Perhaps this time he would ask the girl out, a flame would be ignited, and marriage and family would be the glorious outcome.

Chapter 3

Now in his second month of teaching, Glen felt excited and alive, the promise of rebirth strong within him as he began his new life—one that would satisfy the true feelings and needs he carried within. He walked briskly toward his classroom, proud of himself at last—proud to be a teacher, proud to be living on his own, and excited by the possibility of a phone call from Keith.

Glen … hi! Katie called from her classroom as he walked by.

Oh, hi, Katie! He turned to enter her room. How was your weekend? Glen asked. Anything exciting happen? He really did like this woman, with her bright smile and soft Texas drawl.

It was a fun weekend, Katie replied. Had some friends over Saturday for an impromptu potluck dinner. That was a lot of fun! I love to cook. She looked at Glen questioningly. Do you think you could survive one of my dinners?

Believe me, if I can survive my own cooking, I could thrive on anything you made.

Does that mean you’re accepting my invitation? Katie asked lightly.

Glen smiled, aware that he was being maneuvered into a date. Part of the reason for his easy acceptance was that he was lonely, an outsider in a strange place. But there was more to it. He liked this woman and looked forward to being with her. Just tell me when, and I’ll be there.

How about this Wednesday evening—about seven?

Sounds great. What should I bring? It can be anything I don’t have to cook.

Just yourself. Katie smiled.

What about wine? Glen asked. Do you like white or red?

Red, Katie said as she placed her hand lightly on his arm.

****

Standing before the new green chalkboards mounted on his classroom’s cement block wall, Glen copied the words of Mary Robinson, written when she was the United Nations’ High Commissioner for Human Rights:

The objective of all human rights action is simply this: to ensure a life of dignity for each person on this earth. The question is, How?

He turned to face his students, the majority of whom were white, along with a minority of black and Mexican youngsters. We will be starting a new unit for the next six weeks, one that is very close to my heart and that I hope you will agree is very important. Imagine the world as it was in the year 1900, at the beginning of last century, and think of the technological advancements we now enjoy. Truly, these advances are mind-boggling: We’ve placed men on the moon. We’ve learned how to save lives with modern wonder drugs and to transplant body parts from one person to another. We can beam messages from satellites to all places on Earth. We have wireless phones and the Internet, which can instantly connect people in all parts of the world.

Glen leaned back against the edge of his desk. Give me some other examples that make your lives better.

Several students raised their hands: iPods, TiVo, Video games!

Yes, to all of that and more, Glen said. As far as science and technology go, humankind has made amazing progress over the past century. Unfortunately, this past century has seen one of the worst, if not the worst, record of human rights violations in history. Not in any one country or continent, but all over the Earth. Just think of the wars. Think of the mass killings, the ethnic cleansings that continue to this very day.

Glen watched his young students’ faces to see if they were connecting with his thinking. Most were quiet and attentive.

"We could spend time on the atrocities committed by people against other people. In fact, we could easily spend a six-week unit on this theme. But I think it more important that we spend our time on what we can do to avoid repeating the mistakes, the horrors, of the past.

Let’s begin today with the thinking of Mary Robinson. She says the basic starting point is how we relate to others. I quote, ‘Two words help me a lot in dealing with this problem: respect—really listening and hearing each side’s point of view—and responsibility—finding the balance between securing my own rights and learning to live by them responsibly so that someone else is not deprived of his or her rights.’

Glen printed the two values—respect and responsibility—on the chalkboard. "There is one other value I want you to think about: caring. Not just about ourselves and people close to us, but about all people: ones who are like you and ones who are different, be it their skin color, their religion, their nationality, the way they think or dress—whatever." He printed caring on the chalkboard.

Turning back to the class, he said, As a starting point for this unit, I want you to break into groups of four or five to talk about the meaning of each of these three values—respect, responsibility, and caring—from your perspective. What do these words, these values, mean to you? Mary Robinson defined respect and responsibility in terms of actions—the way people act toward other people. Do you agree with her? Make a list of specific examples of how these values can be applied to your own lives, your own school day, and most importantly, how you act toward one another.

At the end of the period, Glen said, "Your assignment tonight is to share Mary Robinson’s words and thinking with your family. Find out what your family thinks. Do they agree that these values are important? Do they want to add other values that she hasn’t included? Tomorrow, at the start of the period, I will ask you to share your family’s response.

"The literature we’ll be reading during this unit will be The Diary of Anne Frank. This autobiography is written from the point of view of a young Jewish girl. This book, her diary, has been read by millions of people, and the house where she and her family hid is one of the most visited places in Amsterdam. People throughout the world were deeply touched and shocked by this young girl’s story of what happened when bigotry and hate overcame respect, responsibility, and caring."

Glen paused for a moment. Then he walked to the chalkboard and wrote dis-ir-un. "These are three prefixes that when attached to a root word change its meaning to not, or the opposite of. Respect becomes disrespect. Responsibility becomes irresponsibility. Caring becomes uncaring. That’s the world Anne Frank and her family, Jewish people, experienced in Europe during the 1930s and 40s. Think what your life would be like if positive values that promote harmony and good feelings among people were overcome by negative behaviors that came from disrespect, irresponsibility, and uncaring."

****

Tired but exhilarated from his students’ response to the new unit, Glen walked briskly out the drab old building’s side door, toward his silver BMW at the far end of the school’s parking lot.

It was 4:30 PM. The school buses had long since left and the teacher’s parking area was almost empty. Glen hummed happily as he guided his five-year-old car from the parking area to the tree-lined side street that bordered the back of the school. A few hundred feet down the quiet street, he noticed a group of teenage boys gathered round a huge live oak whose gnarled lower branches leaned down, almost touching the ground. The boys were fixated at something high up in the tree. They appeared to be yelling and throwing things at it.

When the boys saw Glen, they ran off. Something’s wrong! Glen stopped his car at the curb beside the live oak and stepped out. He looked up and was shocked to see a small figure hunched against a thick branch about fifteen feet above the ground. It was the boy who had been knocked down in the corridor outside his classroom.

Are you all right? Glen called to him.

The small boy looked down at the teacher but said nothing.

Are you all right? Glen repeated.

The boy nodded, murmuring something that Glen couldn’t hear. Slowly he picked his way down the maze of branches. When he was still several feet from the ground, the boy jumped, lurching forward as his feet touched the moist grass. Glen grabbed him in his arms to stop the fall.

As Glen released him and stepped back to look at him, he saw the boy was trembling. What happened? he asked. What were they doing to you?

The boy just shook his head, his dark eyes filled with humiliation and guilt. Glen was deeply touched by the youngster’s vulnerability. He was a nice looking boy, pretty actually, with thick lashes bordering soft brown eyes and full, almost girlish lips. I’m Glen McLean … Mr. McLean. Glen stretched out his right hand. Tell me your name.

Danny … Danny Anderson. The boy placed his soft hand in Glen’s. Thank you for … He stopped.

Do you live near here? Glen asked.

Danny shook his head. Not too near.

I guess you missed your bus, Glen said. They’re all gone. Can you walk home from here?

Danny didn’t answer. Tears were streaking his pale cheeks. I guess I can walk home, he mumbled at last. It’s not that far …

Do you want a lift? I’d be happy to drive you home. Glen smiled at the boy.

Danny’s dark eyes lit with pleasure at the unexpected invitation. That would be great! You’re really great to … Danny stopped himself. He wiped the tears from his eyes and murmured softly. Thank you. I would like a ride home.

Chapter 4

Glen could not have hoped for a more positive response. Several parents had even written notes commending him on the theme for his new unit: Making