Neat things that have happened in my classroom lately, part one:
Last Monday, one of my kids walked in with a Mohawk. It wasn't much of a Mohawk - just a stubby little thing that lacked entirely the grace of the Bella Morte Mohawks (i.e. my gold-standard in this respect - see right for why). Still, it was something. But I was too punchdrunk from fatigue to take proper notice of this hair, and eventually he had to point it out himself. On the Friday of that week, he approached me after class.
"Ms Rocketbride, my mother's making me shave off my Mohawk. Can you write me a note saying that I need to keep it?"
I laughed delightedly, tickled pink that he'd come to me with this request. "I'd love to Hieronymous*," I said, "but I think your parents should crack down on you. It gives you something to rebel against."
He looked down. "But I want my Mohawk."
Neat things that have happened in my classroom lately, part two:
Yesterday we were going over Romeo & Juliet, I.i., and when I was explaining why a rich woman might want to live chastely, we sideslipped into a discussion of homosexuality. They were pretty damn good for a class of 15-year-olds, even if some of the girls found it difficult to understand homophobia at all. That is, until I talked about Boy Scout Leaders, and someone [a boy] sneered, "you think they should take care of children?"
It's not like I haven't had years in front of the circus that is public education. I guess I just allowed the good 20 minutes that had preceded this comment to colour my expectations.
"Homosexual doesn't equal pedophile. Nor does it equal serial killer," I said, too mad to care if I was acting outside the correct bounds of teacher interaction.
(I know there are dozens of wise, thoughtful people who cherish the validity of everyone's opinion - but, honestly. Freedom from sexual discrimination is spelled out in our Charter. If some kid said that black men shouldn't be valets because they'd just steal the expensive cars, I sure as hell wouldn't be expected to nod judiciously and ask them to expand on their thinking.)
Anyway. It was neat, if not cute. For a while there, I actually had kids sharing stories of gay uncles and discussing gender preference among bisexuals. Oh, I'm sure most of the boys who never said anything were muttering nonsense to their seatmates...but at least they kept it (more or less) to themselves.
