If you’ve ever wondered about how lesbians do things, you’re in for a real treat: Today's post is about the lesbian lifestyle.

I've written about "the gay lifestyle" in the past, but this particular post is about a very specific aspect of lesbianism, namely, the struggles that two more masculine women face when managing stereotypically "female" situations.

In the past, when I reveal that my spouse is also a woman, I have more than once been asked "who's the man?"

I kid you not, this is not a one time question, and as I do not always know the questioners well enough to presume an "intimate" nature to their line of questioning, I can only assume they are asking more superficially, i.e. who takes on the classically "male" chores around the house.

When faced with important domestic tasks, it seems the answer is, "we're BOTH the man"!

This was clearly illustrated to me this past weekend, when I had to help my partner with an emergency hemming situation.

Now before you ask what could possibly constitute such an emergency, allow me to explain.

You see, my partner recently got hired as a first officer with a regional airline. As such, she was issued a standard uniform, and given a budget to customize said uniform to specs.

For example, pant leg length.

This next part is not so much about the lesbian lifestyle, but it is germane to the story, so bear with me while I set the context.

On Thursday, my partner took all three issued pairs of pants to be altered last week. On account of the long weekend, they were to be ready for pick up on Tuesday. Not a problem, since she was still awaiting her actual flight schedule, and assumed she was not working for the foreseeable future.

But on Friday, my partner got word that she was to report for duty first thing Monday morning for a two-day pairing with an overnight in Windsor! In other words, she needed an actual pair of uniform pants, with legs hemmed, before Tuesday.

And thus ensueth the "emergency hemming situation" referenced above.

My partner dashed over to the dry cleaner and demanded one pair of pants back immediately. ESL barriers (both hers and theirs) not withstanding, she soon returned with one slightly crumpled and of course still unhemmed pair of pants.

Now if we were in a nice, traditional (read "straight") relationship, the woman could simply hem the pants, and the man -- who does not know how to hem pants, but can fly airplanes -- could wear them to his pilot job, and all would be well with the world.

Alas, because we are lesbians, neither of us knows how to hem pants. So we would have been really screwed (and not in a good way), except that as everyone knows, all lesbians are good problem solvers and very creative.

My partner, determined not to report for her first official day of work in pinned up pants, began to google.

She soon came across that magical tool called "hem tape". Hem tape is a lovely little iron-on solution for those (like men and lesbians) who don't know how to sew. You simply cut the tape to the length you need, fold up the material you want to hem, and iron that sucker on high to bond the two parts together. Bingo, you got yourself a sweet little hem!

As soon as she mentioned it to me, I remembered I had used the stuff years ago (when I was married to a man but still did not know how to sew, because I was not a real woman even then, I was a lesbian, I just didn't know it yet) to "hem" a curtain.

Off we went to Walmart of all places (never again!!) and picked up a roll of the glorious substance.

And then it was off to "hem" the girl's pants.

Since the job still required the use of an iron (a borderline "female" task), it was going to be a two-lesbian job for sure.

And what a job it was! In my eagerness to help, I had forgotten the little detail about how a pants leg is actually a round loop, and a hell of a lot more complicated to hem (even with tape) than a straight edge curtain. Despite measuring with a ruler and trying our best not to iron out the pre-existing crease in the pants, we botched the job pretty good, and had to start over a few times.

Also we did it naked, but not because we are lesbians, but because it was super hot this weekend, and we don't have air conditioning in our apartment.

Despite a two-hour struggle to hem (with tape) one pair of pants, we managed to get the job done, and you can only tell if you look really close that one leg is slightly longer than the other.  Overall, though, she still looks pretty kick ass in her uniform, and went off to do two full days of flying and didn't crash the plane.

Despite being a lesbian!

One of my former students connected with me on LinkedIn recently.

And not just any former student, this was a kid from the very beginning of my teaching career! Back in the day when I had more enthusiasm than experience, more passion than pedagogical knowledge.

I remember this kid. I have often seen his face in my mind over the years, because he was one of those creative souls for whom school seemed just a little too basic. Teachers, I suspect, didn’t really appreciate the true value of this guy’s innovative mind. He wasn’t a troublemaker, in the teachery sense of the word, but I’m willing to bet my bottom dollar that he was rarely if ever intellectually challenged as much as he could or should have been in elementary school.

Naython (not his real name) darkened my door his grade 6 year at the K-8 school where I started my career. It was my second year in the classroom, and I really cared about the kids, but I was a new teacher, and still had lots and lots and lots to learn!

Likely bored to tears by by my basic, beginning teacher lessons, the kid would sit quietly while I droned on, and glue little bits of pencil and eraser to the legs of his desk. Quite creative, actually, if you overlook the fact that he was vandalizing board property.

Yep, The kid was quirky all right. I remember his deadpan query, when I was delivering the slightly over-the-top instructions for EQAO’s written component (it was the first year of the provincial testing, and there were extensive instructions about what students could and could not write for the fiction part of the assessment, and what our responsibilities were as educators, if we had concerns about the violent, bloody/glory, or otherwise troublesome nature of anything a student had written). Pokerfaced and in his usual monotone, Naython wondered aloud, “what should we write about, Ms. Teschow? Rainbows and puppy dogs?”

Indeed!

Speaking of rainbows, judging by the young man’s LinkedIn profile (he still looks very much like he did in Grade Six, btw!), I would venture a guess that he might be of my tribe, so to speak. Both his volunteer endeavors and his paid work over the past decade would suggest that he is either part of the LGBTQ family, or a very strong ally.

Assuming the former, I am struck with a nagging sense of guilt.

I did not come out of the closet – – to myself or my students – – until the final few years of my teaching career. And as such, I missed many opportunities to model for the students in my classes what a “normal“ queer adult could look and sound like. And if I’m right in my assessment of my new LinkedIn contact’s sexual identity, then he was one of the statistically 2 to 3 kids in my class that year who did not get to see and hear that it was OK to be gay (or bi, lesbian, trans, 2-spirit, etc.)

Lucky for Naython, he seems to be doing quite well for himself despite having had me as a teacher during his (and my?) formative years.

And now that my days in a classroom are over, and I play a more subtle role in helping to shape education policy at the provincial level rather than more directly influencing students, I must resort to guiding and mentoring other educators to be good allies, or, if they themselves identify on the LGBTQ+ spectrum, to be confident in who they are and embrace this part of their identity for and with their students.

The Naythons of the world might well depend on it!

Come enjoy "a night at the Aqueerium!", suggested a large digital sign festooned with rainbow fish and the branding of a local aquarium.  I was accosted by this colourful bit of corporate Pride at the subway, on my way to work this morning.

While I must confess both the visual feast of the advertisement and its playful pun caught my attention, something seemed a bit... well, queer.

I had been to said aquarium (in months other than June), and the business did not strike me as particularly LGBTQ-friendly.  I don't remember being impressed with a representative presence of gay, lesbian or trans folks who work at or patronize the place.  And did they have gender-inclusive washrooms?  I don't recall, actually (which probably means they didn't).

So it struck me as a bit odd (or queer, if you will) that this same establishment was now promoting itself as a fun place for the gays to hang out. In fact, it made me think of any number of allegedly LGBTQ-friendly businesses that seem to crawl out of the woodwork around Pride month. 

It's June, y'all, and suddenly everyone is all supportive of the homos!

Don't get me wrong... in a world that for so long overwhelmingly slung derogatory comments in the general direction of anyone who did not dance to the beat of the heteronormative drummer, and that certainly never celebrated anything queer, there is something quite comforting about seeing the colours of my tribe's flag represented in the mainstream.

But the truth is, it just all feels a little, well, insincere.

A gay colleague was complaining to me recently about how it frustrated him that so many of the younger fags just think Pride month is a party.  They forget, he lamented, the sacrifices that bought them the freedom to  frolic freely down the street amongst friends and allies all weekend long. 

They forget that the first pride marches were riots, political protests designed to raise awareness amongst a mainstream that could no longer afford to ignore a critical mass, and to demand from that mainstream the same basic human rights that they enjoyed.

Stonewall, the AIDS crisis, Operation Soap, Harvey Milk,  The Continental, Brent Hawkes... many straight people and even LGBTQ youth today have never heard of these historical events, places and figures. 

And those who have have only a superficial understanding of their significance in our tribe's history.

So what I want to know is, where was TD  Bank or Telus, who proclaim #lovewins and claim to be #foreverproud, when Rev Brent Hawkes was on Day 17 of his 25-day hunger strike in 1981, protesting police brutality and demanding an inquest into the bathhouse raids? (Or where were they, for that matter, 25 years later, when this same Canadian hero wore a bullet-proof vest to perform the first same sex wedding ceremonies in the world?!)

While it's true, as this CBC Archives clip from the late 1970s suggests, that LGBTQ rights have come a long way, let us not forget that it was within this decade that a mayor for our city refused to acknowledge the globally lauded efforts of the city and LGBTQ allies in particular for organizing World Pride, an event that drew millions to Toronto and resulted in undisputed economic gain for this city.  (And moreoever, this after he was already accused of making several previous homophobic remarks, and caught on film making misogynistic comments.)   

Nationally, we're faring no better:  It was only this past year that our Prime Minister finally acknowledged and apologized for decades of discrimination against LGBTQ Canadians; meanwhile, conservative leaders in our country continue to proudly promote homophobic policies.

Gay men find themselves at greater risk for violent crime, simply because they are gay, and it's no secret that LGBTQ youth are five times as likely to be homeless as those who identify as cis-gender and/or straight. 

Women, POCs and members of the Indigenous community who also happen to identify as LGBTQ are hit with a double whammy.

Where, pray tell, are all the proud businesses when it comes time to take action and create practical solutions to these very real problems that face our community?  Where are they when it's time to take a stand and speak up for what's right, even when it's not popular or sexy?

As someone who's been around long enough to know better, I'll enjoy the rainbow of my Pride celebrations this year, but I won't forget the cost at which they've come. 

​Nor will I climb unassumingly into bed with any business who slaps a rainbow onto their June advertising without the faintest idea of what their previous decades-long silence has meant to us.

Not long ago, a colleague of mine came back from a workshop and shared with me an image she had seen.
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“I have something to show you!” she gasped, almost breathless with excitement.  “I know how much you love equity, and I think you’ll really like this.”

The image she showed me served as a stark reminder of the long road ahead of us.

While I have nothing against this image as a starting point for engaging the blissfully ignorant in a conversation about equity vs. equality, her excitement in thinking she had uncovered something new to share with me made me realize how naive I had been, in terms of people’s general exposure to many of the concepts I take for granted.

While my colleague was engaging with the fence image for the first time, I had moved on to reading articles like this one, that challenge its limitations.

A Literal Interpretation

For a long time, I’d been struggling with the fact that proponents of the fence image seemed to be implying that anyone should be able to see a professional sports game for free (yes, literally)... And while I myself am not much of a sports fanatic, I was wrestling with the concept of implying that we (or some) should not have to pay to watch a professional performance.

Yes, yes, I know that in general professional players in sports are HUGELY overpaid in the larger scheme of things -- but apply the analogy to a arts performance then, dance, or a group of local musicians… how are people supposed to make a living if everyone should just get to enjoy their talents for free?!

Making Space for Everyone

Around the same time as I was wrestling with this conundrum, I’d been reviewing a monograph on culturally responsive pedagogy, which included a quote by George Dei:

(It’s also quoted in Ontario’s Equity and Inclusive Education Strategy, btw.)

At the time, it seemed like a nicey-nice, lofty statement. Lately, though, I’ve been meditating on it a lot.

What does it mean, exactly, to make a new space?  I mean, why wouldn’t we want to bring people into our great space that already exists?  Don’t we want “them” to have access to “our” sporting (arts, etc.) events?

It’s what I’d been trying to do for most of my career, open access for the students I taught (“them”) who might not have typically had access to the variety of resources and opportunities that I do.

And yet, if I examine the way my own classrooms unfolded over the two decades I taught, I am beginning to realize that together with the students in my care, I did in fact increasingly create new structures, systems and spaces.  Any remaining barriers (class size, lack of thinking and planning time, access to reliable wifi or digital devices and other resources, etc.) were products of the larger system, over which I had only limited control. (More on that later.)

Relinquishing Power

Creating a new space together with the students meant that as the person in the classroom on whom power and privilege had been conferred, I the teacher had to make way for the kids to develop some power, some real power.

It meant that when a colleague and I began exploring the concept of centres as a way to teach math with my Grade 7 and 8 math classes a few years ago, we asked for feedback… and then listened to that (often brutally honest!) feedback the students provided, and modified our approach.

It also meant that the following year, when we started a social studies based, cross-curricular inquiry together in Grade 6, and some of the students wanted to move in a direction with their learning that I had not envisioned, I had to give them the freedom to follow that learning, and support THEIR learning from the side rather than demand from the front what I thought it should be all about.

In my experience, Middle school students who have been raised in fairly traditional classrooms have become very “comfortable” (complacent?) with their lot. While perhaps unfulfilled and possibly bored, they generally do what they are supposed to -- including acting out and “misbehaving” in ways that are expected -- perhaps because they don’t know any other way.  They’re like prisoners who have lost their scope for the imagination of any better reality!

So when you introduce a new way of doing business (“You can write about it or show me by taking a picture of your work and recording a verbal explanation”, or “will you choose to work on your own today, or with a partner?”, or “are you ready to come and talk with me about your assignment, or do you want to get some feedback from your group first?”) middle school students (and heck, even adults!) can get very antsy.

They’re not used to being treated like capable, competent people with potential!

​They’re not sure what to do with the freedom and the ability, nay, the provocation, to think!  This is hard work, they realize, this participating fully in my learning....  And at first, they rebel.

Using the structure of a classroom circle early and often as we got to know one another as co-learners helped… as did regular read-alouds (yes, middle school kids still love a good read-aloud, especially when Ms. Teschow cries at the sad parts, as she notoriously does!!) 
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Surfacing challenges, discussing and sharing people’s feelings and behaviours openly, honestly and matter-of-factly, and sharing ideas for next steps helped -- in my experience -- to validate all members of the class.  (As an added bonus, our regular community circles really built their learning skills and work habits, and helped me get to know kids more personally, which was a huge bonus come report card writing time!!)

Eventually, fear at this “new” way anxiety was replaced with pride and commitment.  Pride their classroom family, and commitment to working hard (both academically and socially) for the benefit of all.

Discomfort was replaced with safety, and students flourished, even the most “unlikely” learners!

Scalability

Now, after 18 years in the field, I’ve become part of that larger system I mentioned earlier, the one that sets up barriers that directly impact kids in classrooms… and I still only have limited control!  (I thought working at the ministry of magic would enable me to change the world in six months or less -- ha!)

But while the systemic work is different than I thought it would be, and the workplace MUCH larger than I had imagined, the need to co-create new space together exists here as anywhere. Systems and structures that worked at some point in history for some group(s) of people are being challenged as new technologies disrupt the status quo and allow (and indeed encourage) an increasing diversity of voices in the workplace.

I’m interested how those in power in this large system approach their leadership role.

I’ve observed that some try to include by bringing people into an existing culture.  Others actively seek out newcomers that will help to shape a new space, a space where everyone is welcome, even if it means that they (the leader) will need to rethink their pre-existing assumptions. Still others speak of making space, but are reluctant to relinquish the comforts afforded to them for so long by their positions of privilege and power.

"What colour?" asked the lady at the chocolate shop (I was buying some treats to go along with the gift cards I had gotten the kids' teachers, and she wanted to know what colour ribbon she should tie the little boxes with).  

When I hesitated, she helpfully offered, "male, or female?" as though a particular gender "owns" any particular colour scheme.  

The best part was when I challenged her by asking nonchalantly whether we were really still asking those sorts of questions in 2017, she responded completely unfazed with, "well, I just wouldn't want to put like a pink ribbon if it were for a boy, you know?"

I didn't bother to tell her that one of my boys regularly wears pink yoga pants.

"Deviant Behaviour"

Someone I work with  was telling me last fall about their experiences in the middle east, and about how "deviant behaviour" (they were referring to anyone who loves someone of the same sex as themselves) was looked down on.

Although my colleague is not violently homophobic, and tries hard to say the "right" things, they are blissfully ignorant of their heteronormativity, and of the general annoyance (at best) and internal pain (at worst) caused by some of their comments.

Recently, another colleague -- who also identifies as LGBTQ+ -- and I were debating the merits of "tolerance".  I don't want to be tolerated, I explained, because someone thinks they're "supposed" to be "okay" with who I am because some law says so, but really they think there is a problem with the fact that I am gay.  Rather, I want to be accepted as I accept others, the same as any straight person is accepted, because I'm a human being same as they are, with human rights same as they have.  

To be "tolerated" stinks of "deviant behaviour".  And while my thoughts and actions as Vera may be deviant, who I love is not!

Aren't We There Yet?

A colleague of my partner's scoffed at me last December when -- tired of the small talk in  the kitchen at the holiday party, and eager to forge richer conversational fodder -- I raised the issue of oppression in Canada.  

​We were discussing pay equity (men and women getting paid the same -- or not, as the case still often is, shockingly -- for similar jobs), and he was surprised that I would suggest such a thing is still an issue in Canada in 2017.

This white, male, straight, able-bodied colleague went on to suggest the usual "gender/racial/LGBTQ, etc. bias isn't really a thing anymore" line, that allegedly we'd solved all these problems, at least in Canada.
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My partner tried to engage him in data-based conversation at work later in the week.  She soon gave up. Like white people of privilege in response to last year's Black Lives Matter protest at Pride, he could not be convinced with facts and logic.

OK, so perhaps not my most rational use of time ever the night before the last day of school, but…

Sweating my way through what was possibly my final set of report cards ever (!!!), I suddenly remembered the "teacher" report card I often give students to complete on me at the end of the school year; I managed to dig it up from the depths of the digital abyss that comprises the files on my computer, and made a copy for my students to fill out last week.

Reading student feedback is always an interesting learning experience; while most of it tends to be predictable, and -- if you're a purposeful and passionate educator -- much of it provides a healthy ego stroke, sometimes things can be a little surprising and/or strike a raw chord!

A few of my favourites are pictured below (click to enlarge)...  Not many surprises this year, but a few funny bits, funnier, perhaps, when one has come to know the students and their individual quirks intimately over the course of a year!

I especially like the third one… You can probably guess what kind of kid wants me to stay "a little less in contact with parents", hehe!

Another good one is the one below… I'm pretty stellar at everything, according to this respondent, but somehow despite all that, my expectations are not clear, and I don't help kids learn, really. No specific feedback though, as you can see from the comments, I just need to generically "improve a little".

​There's something to be said for specificity.

Perhaps my most fulfilling comment this year is the one below, from the first student I (knowingly) had that came from an LGBTQ family.

Frequent and brutal previous bullying, along with a few other personal issues, had caused this dear child to shrivel up somewhat, academically, and produce very little written product this year.  But for this particular assignment, the student wrote even more than the minimum I begged for, continuing well beyond the five lines suggested, and giving voice to the internal hurdles faced by children growing up in a still somewhat unconventional (at least, in the suburbs where I teach) family.

I really felt quite vindicated reading this student's comment; I know that sometimes I feel as though I struggle to find the balance between the overt and covert curricula in my teaching practice, but it's students like this one, who can't get to the overt curriculum until they become comfortable with their own underlying learning roadblocks, that remind me of why it is so important to do what we do the way we do it.

If you've never asked students for end-of-year feedback, I encourage you to give it a try this week... you'd be amazed at what you can learn about yourself as a teacher!

​How do you talk to students about a homophobic Muslim walking into a gay nightclub during the month of Ramadan, and killing 50 people and wounding dozens more before being shot by police?  This question holds particular significance if you yourself happen to identify as queer, and if you happen to be teaching in a class where a good chunk of your students are Muslim!

Today's average middle school is rife with both homophobia and islamophobia... and not just amongst the student body!!  I have spent a great deal of time this year working with my students to develop a growth mindset that I hope will serve them well both as academic learners and as citizens of the multi-cultural, pluralist society we call Canada.  An event like the one that happened this weekend in Orlando, FLA, will for sure test their mettle, so to speak.

Regardless of your teaching or parenting context, I think it's an important news story to unpack with students, and thanks to several colleagues who shared some timely resources with me, I would like to offer some ideas for how you might do this with your own students, Grade 4 and up...

Begin with a "Third Point"

After a brief introduction summarizing/acknowledging the events of the weekend, you might share a news article and brief video like this one, from CP 24.  While students are watching, I would have them consider certain questions or ideas.  Below are some examples I'll be sharing with my class:

Letting them watch the clip twice may be helpful in allowing students to dig a little deeper.
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Provide Open Space for Dialogue

Classrooms come with a diversity of opinions and personal biases.  Encourage students to consider their own biases as they explore their reactions to what happened.  Building in structures like "think-pair-share" may allow students more opportunity to talk with others about their feelings.

While you want students to share authentically, it's also important to reinforce the respectful "talk moves" you've hopefully been teaching students all year.  It's okay to disagree, but it must be done respectfully.  Questions, rather than openly stated disagreements, can be powerful ways to find out more.

Inviting parents and families into the conversation helps to extend the dialogue at home.

Next Steps

Unpacking isn't enough... students need to feel empowered to do something.  Taking the conversation further is one idea, especially for older students.  Here is a newscast by Desmond Cole.  In it, he addresses the massacre, and talks with various guests about the multiple facets of one's identity, and intersectionality.  This might be assigned for students to share at home with family, thereby extending the conversation beyond the classroom walls.

Students might also be encouraged to write a letter to the survivors, encouraging them, or to the family members of some of the victims.  Other ideas include researching homophobic laws in the US and Canada, finding out more about Islam to combat the stereotypes out there and reading up on prominent allies in the LGBTQ and/or Muslim communities.

Finding ways to celebrate diversity and challenge homophobia and islamophobia at school are additional important extensions to the conversation.

How will YOU be unpacking this with the young people in your life?  I look forward to your responses -- feel free to leave a comment below, or contact me directly.

Decided to kick off pride month by celebrating last weekend with Canadian Aviation Pride's "Northern Escape" in Toronto.

Friday's festivities included an aviation themed art show featuring the work of photographer Laird Kay, at Akasha Art Projects on Church St.

​This was followed on Saturday with an aviation job fair and a cocktail reception at the 519. While Tats chatted up the HR folks at various airlines, I loaded up on swag for my students!

We opted to skip the late night at Woody's, and made it home to bed before midnight.

​This meant we were awake and alert enough to enjoy the next morning's brunch at the Hothouse Grille, along with a little Sunday jazz.

Then it was off to the airport to admire the two planes that had arrived on the island, flown in by members in the US for the "Queen of the Fleet" Competition. (Actually, the were three entries, but the third was a Falcon jet, and since jets are not permitted to land at CYTZ, they had to park their plane at Pearson instead!)

Both planes on the apron were very nice, and one even had a custom made banner swinging from its propeller! In the end, it was decided that everyone was a winner.

While the first group of boys went up for a tower tour, Tats and I said or goodbyes to some new friends, promising to investigate the possibility of flying to their Province town event in Sept.

Then we forewent our own tower tour and the aviation themed drag show that was to follow, and headed to the city's northern region, to attend another performance instead; one of our sons was participating in a dance recital!

After grabbing a quick bite with a friend on Albert's Real Jamaican on St Clair after the show, it was time to head home, walk the dog and face the fact that this thrilling weekend was  finally drawing to a close.