[gay.issues.in.school.newspapers]


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ADDRESSING SEXUAL ORIENTATION IN HIGH SCHOOL NEWSPAPERS
by Dan Woog

Just about everything in high school has changed in the past couple of
decades. Dress codes -- for teachers as well as students -- are out;
McDonald's, Pizza Hut, and Taco Bell have invaded the cafeteria. And
high school newspapers are no longer the grimy, grainy, poorly written,
and badly designed purveyors of administrative pabulum that seemed their
fate for so many years.

Gone are the puff pieces on cheerleading tryouts; in their place are
investigative stories probing gender equity in extracurricular
athletics. The fawning interview with Mr. Blivet that tried (and failed)
to show that typing teachers have personal lives too has been supplanted
by a hard question-and-answer session with the assistant superintendent
for curriculum affairs, zeroing in on the school district's inability to
keep current in computer technology. And the "inquiring photographer" no
longer asks students whether the Bald Eagles will whip the Whippets in
the Big Game Friday night; now she seeks responses to questions like,
"What would you do if your best friend told you he's gay?"

Homosexuality has come to the high school press.

"As recently as the early eighties, there were no gay or lesbian stories
in high school papers at all. Today it's so common, you're almost wrong
to call it a trend," said Tom Rolnicki. He should know: as the longtime
executive director of the National Scholastic Press Association (NSPA),
a nonprofit organization providing evaluation services, advice,
contests, competitions, and other support to high school journalism
advisers and student writers, he scans hundreds of high school papers
each week. They come in all sizes and every conceivable style. They pour
in daily from fifty states, their pages filled with a bewildering array
of local controversies and concerns. But in many ways, they're all the
same: the social currents that ripple across MTV, Sassy magazine, and
Blockbuster Video bind teenagers together from Point Barrow to Key
Largo. The jungle telegraph transmits, with faxlike speed, news of
fashions and fads -- and gay issues are part of today's messages.

"It's common practice now to do one story or more a year about gay and
lesbian students, accompanied by sidebars on support groups, and maybe
an editorial or opinion column," said Mr. Rolnicki at NSPA's Minneapolis
headquarters. As a gay man, he is both pleased with and intrigued by
what he reads.

"I've been thinking about this for a long time," he said. "I think the
main reason for the shift is AIDS -- not because it affects gay men, but
because it afforded student journalists the opportunity to write
candidly about a serious topic, and use correct adult language in
reporting."

In the 1970s, Mr. Rolnicki said, the high school press got serious.
Stories about drugs, divorce, and other personal issues first crept,
then swept onto the pages of high school papers. Yet teenage writers
still tiptoed around lots of stories. "They might do a teen pregnancy
piece, but they wouldn't write the word `penis' or `vagina.' But then in
the early eighties came AIDS, and they had to use both clinical medical
terms and also street language. It would have been hard for a principal
to tell a high school reporter not to cover AIDS, when everyone from the
Surgeon General on down (not up, unfortunately) was saying that students
needed that information. And the student press was a great way to get
that information across." That led, Mr. Rolnicki said, to peripheral
stories on gay men, which in turn sparked stories on gay students,
homophobia, and other related topics.

A female reporter for a high school paper in Georgia wrote a column
titled, "Keep Uncle Sam Out of Our Bedrooms"; it was an explicit
response to a Supreme Court decision about invasion-of-privacy laws.
"That was a landmark story for the high school press," Mr. Rolnicki
remembered. "It took the subject of sodomy laws and made it real." He
also was impressed by an editorial in a school paper commending a
college for allowing a lesbian organization on campus. That too was a
real breakthrough, the NSPA director said, because it showed that
stories about lesbians were important too. Up to that time it was easier
for the high school press to talk about gay men.

School papers deal with homosexuality in a host of ways. There are
opinion pieces -- occasionally penned by a self-identified gay or
lesbian student -- as well as feature stories, editorials, and hard news
pieces concerning homophobia or curricular issues. "Student writers
sometimes still have difficulty with terminology, and sometimes the
stories lack the polish of the commercial press," Mr. Rolnicki said.
"Some of them read like a high school theme -- they cite Seventeen
magazine or Newsweek as sources, rather than firsthand information --
but these writers make up for all that with candor. They deal in depth
with difficult issues; they devote a couple of pages to it, and they are
doing more and more interviews with actual kids."

Because he is not in the schools when the papers come out, Mr. Rolnicki
finds it hard to judge reactions to lesbian and gay stories. "My sense
from follow-up stories, letters to the editor, and phone calls to us is
that there are occasional slaps on the hands and a few complaints. But
because I've seen these types of stories for several years now, and all
across the country -- Wyoming, Montana, Wisconsin, Iowa, not just
California and New York -- it says to me that schools are more
enlightened than they used to be. And they should be. These really are
student topics, even if some teachers and parents don't like their kids
to be thinking about them."

One highlight of each school journalism year is NSPA's national
convention and workshop. Hundreds of teachers, advisers, and students
exchange ideas, papers, and addresses; attend seminars; and listen to
professional writers and editors. For the first time recently a speaker
was identified as a member of the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists
Association. He did not speak on a gay topic, but afterward a number of
students went up to him, and identified themselves as gay or lesbian.
The NSPA did not seek him out as a speaker because he was gay, but the
organization is very conscious of the need to provide role models --
whether female, African-American, Hispanic, or homosexual.

As the visibility of gays and lesbians in schools increases, student
press coverage won't fade into the background. But, Mr. Rolnicki said,
the type of stories might change. "I think we'll see more `normal'
coverage of student activities," he predicted. "Stories about a kid
who's involved in a gay youth group, or sewing a quilt panel, or going
to Washington for the march, rather than survey-type pieces on gay
rights or homophobia."

That kind of coverage of gay issues -- any kind, actually -- amazes Mr.
Rolnicki. "I think back to when I was in high school, and this stuff was
not even covered in the mainstream press, let alone high school papers.
It's so valuable to everyone, especially gay and lesbian kids in high
school who have no other access to information. And these sidebars that
include addresses and phone numbers for support groups -- that's real
important, informational journalism. It's what high school papers are
all about."

As Mr. Rolnicki noted, lesbian and gay coverage in the high school press
takes many forms. The one most talked about is the feature or
editorial-page column that brings lesbian and gay issues directly into
the classroom, by talking about homosexuality as it exists in a
particular school. These stories are exceptionally powerful, because
they force students to face up to what previously was only joked about
or rumored: that someone they know is gay.

Not that real names are used. In fact, a review of scores of student
newspapers provided by the NSPA did not unearth even one story in which
a teenager revealed his or her sexual orientation by name at that
student's school. But many came close.

The centerpiece of a two-page spread on homosexuality in the Charger
Account (Leland High School, San Jose, California) was headlined,
"Teenager divulges true identity." The unbylined story began:

"I have no idea what kind of rumors are floating around Leland
right now, but I would like to set some stuff straight. Please read this
with an open mind and read the whole thing. You might want to save this
article.

"It was always hard for me to be accepted by people and I always
felt out of place. The one thing I hated most was lying to people and
friends about myself. But here is the truth: I am gay.

"Shock? Maybe not. Many people in my life have asked me if I was
gay. And of course, I always answered no. I felt that if I had said yes,
I would be insulted and in danger of physical harm. I guess the only
reason I am "coming out" now is because I will not be attending Leland
any longer."

The author went on to describe despair at always knowing he was
different, yet never receiving any support; loneliness that led to his
contemplation of suicide; the importance of first accepting, then
admiring oneself. The writer concluded with a schoolwide plea:

"People should accept others for who they are, not what they are.
Be who you want to be and most important, be who you are. Remember,
you're not alone and there are people who care.

Live your life the way you want to live it. Don't be pushed around
by peers, parents or any other adults. You have the choice in what you
want to do and become.

Be yourself, go ahead, wear that outfit you thought nobody would
like. Use your imagination and wear weird clothes. Don't let society
brainwash you and turn you into a bunch of Kens and Barbies. Express
yourself and be open to what the world has to offer. Peace."

At the end of the piece was a cryptic editor's note: "This article came
to the Charger Account with a signature. In consideration for all
concerned, the Charger Account staff withheld the name. The author fully
intended and endorsed the release of his identity."

In a separate story, staff writer Anthony Corchero appended his own
thoughts. "I have met many people, seen many things, but I have never
experienced anything to match such a display of courage and compassion
... such dignity and self-respect. And [the author] did so without
tangible compensation, for he is to receive no grade, and most certainly
no great boost amidst the social circles." After praising principal Don
Bell and vice principal Pat Dewey for their personal support of the
article, Anthony wrote, "I regret that before the student left Leland, I
never had the opportunity to make his acquaintance, and what is more, I
regret that this community has lost the privilege to claim so remarkable
a human being as one of its own." (Anthony revealed in another article
on the facing page that a close relative of his is gay, and excoriated
himself for formerly laughing at anti-gay jokes and spouting homophobic
opinions.)

The rest of the two pages were filled with a variety of gay-related
stories, including an examination of stereotypes at Leland (all gays at
Leland do not have AIDS, act "feminine," or dress a certain way, writer
Kim Mok said); information on mandatory meetings on homosexuality for
all district administrators; and listings of support services and
hotline numbers for gay youths.

A large special section headlined, "Homophobia and High School" appeared
in the Newton (Massachusetts) South High School Denebola. Numerous
articles approached the issue from a variety of viewpoints -- "Educators
tackle homophobia at school"; "Teens' own uncertainties can fuel
discrimination"; "Parents request education on homosexuality" -- but two
in particular stood out, both for their crackling writing and for their
willingness to examine several sides of a complex story.

Matt Baker's piece, "South students attribute homophobia to insecurity
and environment," began by noting the responses of most of the students
queried: cruel jokes, followed by "No, wait. Don't quote me on that!"
But beneath the superficial reaction, Matt discovered many thoughtful
responses.

"In light of the Magic Johnson story, I have become more aware of the
existence of homophobia at South," sophomore Jamie Horowitz said. The
morning after the basketball star's startling announcement, many
students assumed that because he had AIDS, he was gay; some said they
did not admire him as much because of that.

Another student, who said he might be bisexual, remarked:

"In a school where I think there is still uneasiness about interracial
romances, how well would I be treated if I announced that I was sexually
attracted to both sexes? There's a lot of pressure here to hide every
freaky side of your personality, take your tests, go to the keg party,
and if you're gonna put on Mommy's high heels, do it in the closet. I
personally think there are a lot more bizarre sexual attitudes swirling
around in this school than ever get dealt with."

A second Denebola piece described interviews with two (relatively) old
South graduates, one from the class of 1970, the other from that of '79.
Each provided a unique look back at their former high school,
interesting to gay and straight readers alike. The younger alum, who at
the time of the story was a graduate student in anthropology and
medicine at Harvard, offered advice that could be heeded by many
students:

"If you think you're gay, odds are you probably are and congratulations.
It's wonderful for many reasons. To discover yourself sexually and to be
gay ... allows you to totally reinvent yourself. In Newton there's very
little sense of "What do I want?" Being gay challenges presuppositions.
Once you begin challenging simple things, everything is up for grabs.
Coming out for me was tied to moving away from a standard career path.
Don't be despairing; you're lucky. Approach it with a sense of
excitement."

The editors of the Lincoln Southeast Clarion -- "The Official Newspaper
of Southeast High School" in Lincoln, Nebraska -- placed a potentially
volatile story in an obscure, middle-of-page-five location, then stuck
this headline on it: "Homosexual students do exist at Southeast."
However, according to reporter Wendey Heitmann's piece, the existence of
those students is not exactly welcomed. "Last year junior Steve Launer
admitted he was gay and quit hiding his homosexuality," she wrote.
"While he did not pursue relationships with other males at Southeast, he
was harassed to the point where he later moved to Los Angeles to get
away from the prejudice he experienced here."

"I couldn't take it anymore," Launer was quoted as saying. "I always
heard all these people say that they didn't care if someone was gay, as
long as they didn't hit on them. Well, I didn't hit on them and I was
harassed terribly." He went on to describe his parents' reactions (they
sent him to a "Christian counselor" who told him that if he didn't
change, God would punish him) and his reaction to that (he contemplated
suicide). But the article did not explain the type of harassment he
endured at Southeast, what his teachers and administrators did about it,
and whether any classmates supported him. The rest of the piece
meandered through such topics as the movie Basic Instinct, a church that
will marry homosexuals (the marriages "are not legal in the sense of
taxes, however"), and the introduction of a gay superhero by Marvel
Comics.

The Liberty High School (Issaquah, Washington) Patriot Press hyped its
two-page gay and lesbian feature with a front-page cartoon of a jail
door covered by the word "unacceptable." Under the headline "Gay and in
high school -- Liberty students try to make it work," Debra Cunningham
profiled several anonymous classmates and recent graduates who attend a
community support group. "When I was there, there were a lot of gay
people at Liberty, and they still are there," one lesbian said. A
companion article featured an eighteen-year-old who was out at his
nearby high school. "One of approximately 15,000 gay teenagers now
living in King County" (and a 4.0 student), Perry Brooks established the
first organized group of homosexuals at the University of Washington.

Another gay young man in the Pacific Northwest, Jason Saffir, was
prominently mentioned in the West Albany (Oregon) High School Whirlwind.
Jason, who at the time the article appeared was a junior at Seattle
Pacific University, never mentioned any connection to West Albany, but
his supportive parents were quoted extensively ("We encourage Jason to
bring home his companions. It seems that it is much harder on Jason and
his friends than it is on us," his mother said). That issue of Whirlwind
is impressive for its wide-ranging coverage of gay issues: in addition
to the Jason story, there was a page-one piece on high school homophobia
in general; an article linking homosexual stereotypes to teenage
anxieties; a long, fact-filled, and fair piece on the upcoming Oregon
ballot initiative that sought to declare homosexual activity "abnormal";
and a box with telephone numbers offering information, counseling, and
support.

One issue of the Bakersfield (California) High School Blue & White was
filled with nineties controversies: condom distribution, racism, and
neo-Nazism. Homosexuality was included too, in a story titled, "Teen
confession of sexuality raises awareness of issues." "Lloyd," a
pseudonymous local student who was going out with another local male,
talked about his relationships, a subject rarely explored in other
school papers. Lloyd admitted he was not ready for his relationship with
"Jim," but noted, "We were both lonely. It's hard to find a good
relationship with another teenager because of society and people who
think that love shouldn't be shared between two males."

It's exceedingly rare that real names are used -- but when they are, the
impact is thunderous. Consider the page-one story that appeared in the
Robert E. Lee High School (Springfield, Virginia) newspaper Lance. It
reported on a speech Wayne Steward, a student at nearby Thomas Jefferson
High School of Science and Technology, made before the Fairfax County
School Board, urging the body to retain "sexual preference" in their
verbal-abuse policy despite an outcry from religious organizations and
parents. (A compromise later changed the wording to "matters pertaining
to sexuality." Steward realized that "sexual preference" is a
politically incorrect phrase, but felt that fighting for half a loaf was
better than none.)

The straightforward news account described Steward's realization of his
sexual orientation (he saw an episode of Phil Donahue when he was ten or
eleven, and it occurred to him then that he was gay); his coming-out
process (he left a copy of his school board speech on the dinner table,
with a note telling his father to read it); and the reactions to the
speech at school (some classmates and teachers congratulated him).

It's also exceedingly rare to see a story as candid as "Hatred fuels
teenage 'fag-bashing,'" Jyll Stettler's contribution to a two-page
spread in the La Cueva High School (Albuquerque, New Mexico) Edition.
Printed in white letters on a black background -- the better to
highlight its strong subject matter -- the piece was especially powerful
because an actual La Cueva student spoke about beating up homosexuals.

"Why do I go fag-bashing? Because I don't like fags," one senior told
Jyll. "We go fag-bashing a lot. A bunch of us will hang out (at the gay
bars) and we'll pretend we are fags. We bring bats and just beat the
s**t out of them. Either singly or in groups (of homosexuals), we've
done both, it doesn't matter."

He continued:

"I've been hit on, but that's not why I hate fags. As soon as I became
aware that there was a difference in some people, I was against it. My
parents weren't a big influence. My friends feel the same way. If I had
a friend or hung out with someone who I found out was gay, I would stop
hanging with them. If people ask how I feel about fags, I tell them I
hate 'em."

Jyll included information about gay advocacy and support groups, but
concluded her piece with some more thoughts from her informant:

"We go bashing because they are homosexual, no other reason. I don't
think that's wrong. My opinions aren't going to change. If I had a son
that was gay, I would disown him. I know [my opinions] are prejudiced,
but I believe in some sort of segregation between homos and regular
people. Maybe a different school. They should just stay by themselves.
You make your own decisions, take your own chances, and you make your
own life."

The Edition devoted the rest of its two pages to other sides of the gay
issue: a column by Jennifer Wall explaining her reaction when a friend
told her he was gay (she learned courage, understanding, and acceptance
from him); the story of a pseudonymous gay student, Dave, whose mother
drove to his school, broke into his locker, took the keys to his drawer
at home, unlocked it, and read his poems; a piece headlined, "History of
homosexuals stretches back to Renaissance"; and a box of four biblical
quotations (all interpretable as condemning homosexuality).

Though gay and lesbian stories now proliferate in the high school press,
virtually all focus on the student angle. "I haven't seen any stories
about gay or lesbian teachers," the NSPA's Mr. Rolnicki said. "I may
have missed them, but my guess is that gay and lesbian teachers are
quieter about their lives than their students are today."

Mr. Rolnicki would have had to have been an exceptionally eagle-eyed
reader to catch the few gay-teacher references an exhaustive search of
the student press turned up. One mention came deep in a page-five story
in the Redwood High School (Larkspur, California) Redwood Bark, dealing
primarily with an attempt by the Novato Unified School District to add
the phrase "homosexual, bisexual and heterosexual" to its
nondiscrimination hiring practices. That in turn sparked a local debate
over whether or not gays should be allowed to teach in public schools.

Near the end of the article, writer Chris Debo mentioned that earlier
that month Chuck Smith, a social studies teacher at nearby Tamalpais
High School, told his classes that he was gay and had AIDS. He died the
next night of a heart attack that may have been induced by his weakened
state. The article added that the Tamalpais administration fully
supported his decision to continue teaching despite his illness; the
story then discussed other gay-related issues.

Another gay teacher in the high school press was vocal-music teacher
Phil Carey of North Central High School in an Indianapolis suburb, who
nearly came out in his school newspaper, Northern Lights. In an
interview, he revealed his homosexuality; he then told the
superintendent about it, as a courtesy. The superintendent told Mr.
Carey not to do the interview at all, and definitely not to mention his
sexual orientation if he did. Mr. Carey replied that the interview had
already taken place.

The superintendent countered by calling the sponsor of Northern Lights
to say, in Mr. Carey's words, "what could and could not be written." The
next move was Mr. Carey's, and it was a beauty: he came out in the local
Sunday newspaper -- photo and all. The school newspaper, defying the
wishes of the superintendent, printed the original article around the
same time.

The result, according to Mr. Carey (who died soon after, of cancer), was
worth it. He received so many notes and comments of support from
parents, colleagues, current students, and past students that he
couldn't remember why he had ever been apprehensive. The power of the
press had worked. The pen -- or, this being the nineties, the desktop
publishing program -- once again proved to be far mightier than the
sword.

A third article was penned by openly gay Stratford (Connecticut) High
School teacher John Anderson. Asked by student editors to write in The
Trident, the newspaper of Amity Regional Senior High in nearby
Woodbridge, Mr. Anderson confronted students head-on.

"When you see the word `homosexual,' what are the first five words that
come to mind?" he asked. "My guess is that none of the words are kind,
complimentary, or supportive."

He asked them what Amity Regional says about the subject.

"Did your principals greet you last September with a statement against
discrimination and include gays and lesbians? Do you have posters on the
walls of your school supporting your approximately 85 gay and lesbian
students? Do you have openly gay and lesbian teachers and
administrators? Has your school library ever had an exhibit for Gay
Pride Month? ... Does your American history teacher tell you
about the gay rights movement when he or she teaches you about the civil
rights movement in this century? Does your English teacher tell you that
Walt Whitman was gay? Does your music teacher tell you that Tchaikovsky
was gay? Does your coach tell you that Dave Pallone, former major league
umpire, was gay, or that Martina Navratilova, world-class tennis pro, is
a lesbian?"

The fact that not many of these questions have a yes answer "doesn't
mean that Amity is full of bad people," Mr. Anderson wrote. What it does
mean, he told the students in conclusion, is that

maybe you need to think about the world as it is and as it exists in
microcosm in your school. Maybe you need to remember that ten percent of
the population is gay or lesbian. Maybe you need to be more sensitive
when you call someone a faggot. There are gay and lesbian students who
hear you. They are hiding and hurting. Please don't add to their pain.

Another teacher, Andrew Watson, used The Log to inform the
Loomis-Chaffee community that he -- an English instructor at the
Windsor, Connecticut, private school -- is gay. His "Open Letter to the
Community: Gay Like Me" began:

"In truth, I don't fit all the stereotypes. I played soccer throughout
high school. Twice a week, I study Tae Kwon Do from a 7th level black
belt. I'm an active Republican -- even, God help me, a CONSERVATIVE
Republican.

"But stereotype or no stereotype, the ugly truth is I'm gay.

"What a funny way to put that. The ugly truth is, Bosnians starve to
death as you read this. The ugly truth is, heroin use is on the rise in
the United States. The ugly truth is, we had a cancer scare in my family
just weeks ago. The ugly truth is, I'm gay. How strange it is to wake up
every day, feeling a little bit like a statistic about heroin
addiction."

The rest of the piece expressed the wish that, now that the school knew
"a little bit more about me, that's all," students and colleagues would
reconsider things they have felt, said, and done. "Maybe it will help to
know that gay people are just people, like me," Mr. Watson ended.

The reaction, in both the editorial and the letters-to-the-editor
columns, was swift and sure. Most students adopted a ho-hum, so-what
attitude, tinged with respect for his honesty and courage. One writer
pointed out that "From Socrates to Yves St. Laurent, homosexuals have
made many contributions to culture and society." Another, after quoting
an upper-class friend as saying, "Dude, Mr. Watson is the best English
teacher I've ever had," noted, "I'm sure Mr. Watson knows his
participles and gerund phrases just as well as the straight members of
the English department." And life at Loomis-Chaffee went on.

There was, however, a bit stronger reaction at Boston Latin School when
Latin teacher Owen O'Malley vented his spleen in a letter to the Argo
Forum editor headlined, "No to Gay Rights." (The paper had already
carried several articles on the subject.) He scathingly attacked Gov.
William Weld for "promoting homosexual propaganda in the public schools"
by supporting a gay student rights bill, labeled homosexuality "a great
weakness and sickness," and hinted that those who "deliberately engage
in ... perverse and wicked and extremely dangerous (acts)" can, if they
want, "rise from the depths of evil" and change their behavior. The same
page of the Argo Forum included two letters from students criticizing
Mr. O'Malley's comments.

A firestorm of debate enveloped the school, with classrooms blazing into
discussions over a variety of issues: the teacher's opinion
specifically, what it said about the state of gay issues at Boston Latin
generally, and the newspaper's overall responsibility in printing such
strong words. Editor Hilary Krieger said that while she strongly
disagreed with Mr. O'Malley's statements, she believed publication of
the letter would further the discussion of gay rights, an issue she
thought a large majority of students support. Then the local media --
print and electronic -- got hold of the schoolwide debate, and inflamed
passions even further.

But, true to editor Krieger's words, some good things arose from Mr.
O'Malley's diatribe. David LaFontaine, head of the Governor's Commission
on Gay and Lesbian Youth, named Mr. O'Malley as one of the first
violators of Massachusetts's new state law banning anti-gay
discrimination in public education. Parents, faculty members, and
homosexual alumni began speaking out. Students talked of forming a
gay-straight alliance. And barely a month after the letter appeared,
Boston Public Schools -- which previously had reacted coolly to the
state Department of Education's safe-schools training -- decided to get
moving.

Where did the Boston School Committee decide to hold its first day-long
workshop? At Boston Latin, of course.

A nasty controversy also arose when the Westlake Featherduster, the
student newspaper of Westlake High School in Austin, Texas, devoted five
pages to gay issues. There was a full-page interview with an unnamed gay
student, and other stories bearing such headlines as "Sects vs. Sex" and
"The Struggle Within." Naturally, the paper caught the attention of a
Christian call-in show, causing complaints to administrators and
journalism teacher Deanne Kunz. As a result, Eames Independent School
District officials would not allow Ms. Kunz or Westlake principal John
Matysek to respond to reporters on the record.

Religious groups were not upset with certain angles: "We are all created
in the image of God and to be homosexual would be to be detestable to
him," Oakhill Church of Christ youth minister Bobby Gober was quoted as
saying, and student Sarah Sunukjian claimed in an opinion piece that
homosexuality is "an unsatisfying lifestyle, incapable of giving
happiness." However, they deplored the sentiments of student Katie
Shotwell, who wrote, "Let us take this opportunity to bow our heads in
shame at government, religion and family. All three have helped condemn
a part of society that just cannot be ignored any longer."

And they certainly did not care for the interview with the anonymous gay
senior, even though the picture he painted of life at Westlake was
bleak. "I get tormented daily by half the guys at our school," he told
the Featherduster. "I'm used to people verbally attacking me. I've
learned to block it out and get on with my life." The student, who
revealed his name -- Maverick Shaw -- to the Texas Triangle, a statewide
gay newspaper, said the principal would not allow him to identify
himself in the school paper. "Straight people are able to use their
names along with their opinions, but I wasn't able to use mine,"
Maverick told the Triangle.

Interestingly, the journalism class got its idea for the issue from the
Eames District's own theme for the year: "Celebrating Diversity."

One of the broadest, deepest spreads anywhere appeared in The Shield,
the monthly paper of Pleasant Valley (Iowa) Community High School. A
quick glance at page one of the twenty-page tabloid paper seems to
confirm that Pleasant Valley is aptly named: a photo showed a student
struggling humorously with messy hair, and headlines informed readers
about a variety show and the boys' swim team's fourteenth-place state
meet finish. A story and photo on Gov. Terry Branstad's visit to present
an award for excellence in education was relegated to page two.

But wedged in on the bottom of page one was this: "Student body
discusses homosexuality in Features." Those inside two pages were filled
with articles, graphs, surveys, and information about gays and lesbians,
complete with a two-page, triangle-draped banner reading, "Battling fear
and ignorance: The fight for gay rights."

Features co-editor Megan Rocker's lead story began by asking why, "with
all the discrimination and persecution placed upon them ... so many
millions of people choose" to be gay. Megan quickly revealed that
homosexuality is not, in fact, a choice, but rather "an inborn trait and
an hereditary issue." However, a Shield poll showed that 45 percent of
students at PVCHS believed homosexuality to be a "controlled decision."

The lead article discussed other results from the survey, including
student views on gay marriage (53 percent were in favor) and adoption of
a child by a homosexual couple (31 percent felt comfortable). Strong
quotes were sprinkled throughout, ranging from "Love is love, no matter
which way you look at it" to "I think (homosexuality) is wrong, no ifs,
ands, or buts." All students were named.

Three other stories surrounded the main one. "Churches give insight into
their perspective about homosexuality" contrasted the views of Pleasant
Valley's Unitarian and Baptist ministers, with Megan Rocker and Shield
editor-in-chief Geoff Mulvihill drawing these quotes from Pleasant View
Baptist Church youth pastor Mike Fendley:

"I've never had anyone come to me and say, 'Can you help me? I'm
heterosexual.' But I have had people ask for help because they felt they
were homosexual. I think this shows that people have an inherent sense
that something is wrong ... The jury is still out on (the issue of
causality), but just because it's in your genes does that make it okay?
They are saying now that alcoholism may be hereditary, but does that
justify it when someone becomes an alcoholic and drinks and drives and
injures someone? We are all predisposed to be sinners. We choose to
commit the sins."

Fendley told his interviewers that he has witnessed several homosexuals
turn to heterosexuality through counseling and spiritual guidance.

"Gays and lesbians battle for additional legal liberties" proved to be
an evenhanded analysis of gay rights issues (including the information
that "only during the time of crisis are homosexuals invited into the
military"). A "Dialogue" interview elicited a senior boy's opinion that
"the military is for defending the country, not a haven for sodomizers,"
while "Mattson shares advice and information on gay teens" turned out to
be an interview with a guidance counselor on the subject. (According to
the newspaper's poll of 158 students, only 16 percent know any
homosexual peers.) One main reason for "the incomprehension" of a gay
PVCHS student's situation, Jean Mattson said, was the school's lack of
diversity. "There are not a lot of differences in our school," she
noted. "It is very homogeneous. There are so few minorities, whether
ethnic, racial, religious, or disabled, that we as a school have very
little tolerance and are prejudiced against many things." She advocated
the formation of a school peer support group, if it could be assured
that members would not be persecuted.

Not far away in Davenport, Iowa, the Central High School Blackhawk
highlighted gay issues in a story headlined, "Homosexuality not taught."
Ryan Harvey reported that the Davenport Community Schools' health
curriculum does not deal at all with homosexuality -- although,
according to junior high health teacher Steve Knoche, "If a student has
a question about it, then we are more than happy to give him
information. That's what we are here for." Two other instructors were
also quoted: junior high health teacher Jay Ryan said, "Usually there
isn't enough time throughout the semester for this to be taught," while
Banks Swan, coordinator of the health department, opined, "In heavily
populated areas, the issue is much more evident. It doesn't show up
around here as much. It is like that with most controversial issues."

That did not sit well with Blackhawk reporter Kait Allebach, who
submitted an opinion piece titled, "Health forgets about homosexuality."
The column began with the example of a little boy yelling, "Fag!" as if
it was the worst insult anyone could ever be called ... The fact that he
had already developed negative feelings about something he was
completely uneducated about, should be a warning to the parents of our
society. The only education he'd had about homosexuality was from what
he had heard and learned from other kids at school. Is this how the
children of our society should be educated?

Homosexuality is a fact of life, Kait concluded six paragraphs later.
"When the seventh grade health class learns about the birds and bees,
homosexuality should be taught right along beside it."

One of the most forthright two-page spreads on homosexuality appeared
elsewhere in the Midwest, in Naperville (Illinois) Central High School's
Central Times. The main story, featured under an arresting "Homophobia"
banner, was titled, "Fear of homosexuals causes discrimination." It led
with this quote, from junior Kevin Brunson: "My friend and I went on a
vacation and a couple gay people were on a bus we were riding in. They
were giving us looks and scared us, and we thought they were going to
jump us or something." Brunson noted that he could not be friends with a
homosexual ("I would be afraid that he'd try something gayish"), adding
that he would "not even want to sit next to one in class."

According to sophomore Kelly McCreary, fear of homosexuals and their
civil rights was a common item of discussion at NCHS. Writer Betsy Wille
showed this to be so by recounting the story of humanities teacher Dave
Dillon, whose policy of inviting gay guest speakers during his sociology
class unit on homosexuality had led to controversy. Local
fundamentalists protested, and Mr. Dillon was called in by his superiors
who were concerned that the unit would become a national issue. The
problem was resolved by having gays address the class via speakerphone.

Alongside that story were student answers to the question "Should
homosexuals be allowed in the military?" Four students answered yes,
including freshman Adam Lawson, who said, "Someday on the front lines it
could very well be a gay who saves your life, and then it wouldn't
matter." On the other side were three male students (all using aliases)
who thought not. "Put them out on the front lines and let them be
killed," said one senior. "I would be disgusted having to live in the
same quarters," added a sophomore.

But columnist Aaron Burns weighed in with a strong opinion piece
supporting the rights of gays to serve in the armed forces ("We should
be proud that there are still people out there who actually want to join
and defend the very country that persecutes them"), and page two's lead
editorial counseled tolerance and justice for gays. An editor's note at
the end read, "The Central Times voted 21-2 on this issue," presumably
referring to the editorial stance.

Another two-page special section on homosexuality appeared in Miner
Detail, the monthly paper at parochial Bishop Manogue High School in
Reno, Nevada. Pages four and five caught readers' eyes with a cartoon of
a boy, his finger to his lips in a "don't tell" pose, surrounded by the
male and female symbols, and question marks. A hard news story by
Courtney Fagan on Amendment 2 began, "Colorado has made history. But the
kind of history the state has made may not be something to proudly pass
on to future generations." A pie chart showed that 64 percent of the 185
Manogue students surveyed disagreed with Colorado's anti-gay Amendment
2. Other stories examined the issues of gays in the military and work
force. A pair of rational, well-researched editorials discussed in
greater detail the controversy over gays in the armed forces; Laura
Clark supported the idea on the basis of equal opportunity for all,
while Tom Wainscoat used quotes from a Nevada Air Guard general (and
Manogue graduate) to oppose it because of its potential disruptive
effect on military discipline.

A more personal view appeared in Walt Whitman High School's Black &
White, in Bethesda, Maryland. On the page facing the obituary of a
former English teacher who died of AIDS at age forty-eight, Christina
Kim and Alex Robbins told the stories of "Scott," a gay Whitman senior;
"Rick," a recent graduate; and "Tim," a former Whitman student who
transferred to a Virginia high school.

Scott, who came out at sixteen to family and friends, described the
humiliations he endured, such as students who laughed in the halls,
"Look at that fag." "It's really hard to live as a gay in a small
society like Whitman where most of the people are not comfortable with
homosexuality," he said. His family, too, was unaccepting: after "only a
couple of long talks," his older sister told him, "I can't accept that
you're gay, and I don't want you to be my brother anymore."

Rick also experienced family problems, noting, "It's tough to be any
type of minority to begin with. However, if you belong to a racial or
ethnic minority, you can go home to a supportive family. But if you're
gay, you don't go home to a gay family."

Tim spoke candidly about finding out who his true friends were after he
came out. "Everyone at school knows that I am gay," he told the paper.
"And so a lot of people are uncomfortable when we are all changing in
the locker room. My closest friends will come up to me and talk to me
even though they are half-naked, while others will shy away." He also
described the way he once tried to gain acceptance from his peers: "I
dated fifteen girls in a two-year span and tried to force myself to like
them. It didn't work, and I was depressed. Now, I can find girls
attractive, but I am never attracted to them."

The Black & White article included information about Washington, D.C.'s
Sexual Minority Youth Assistance League (SMYAL), including its phone
number, statistics on gay youths, and quotes from school psychologist
Penny Peterson. It was illustrated with a clever cartoon of a scared
youth peering out of a closet door.

Sharp graphics, an eye-catching vertical banner ("Homophobia"), and
solid, no-nonsense writing helped make "Homosexuality triggers
uneasiness" an interesting, full-page feature in Shaker Heights (Ohio)
High School's Shakerite. Staff reporter Emily Troia opened her story
this way:

"I'd kill him."

"Be serious."

"I am being serious. I'd kill him."

As they listened to the class discussion about homosexuality, a chill
went down a few students' backs when they realized just how serious he
was. He would kill his parent, even his own child, based solely on one
piece of information: they were gay.

Using as her hook a Shakerite survey of two hundred students (which
found that 35 percent were personally or religiously opposed to
homosexuality), Emily quoted schoolmates, psychiatrists, and social
workers in her comprehensive piece. The survey revealed that only 18
percent of male students would feel comfortable discovering a friend was
gay, compared with 35 percent of girls. Nearly three-quarters of the
students said that discussions of homosexuality have been avoided in
their classrooms, though "personal social responsibilities" teacher
Allan Slawson was cited for giving students an opportunity to debate how
they felt about gays and lesbians. The class made senior Quinn Chambers
realize that homosexuals "are humans like everyone else," Emily wrote.

Of course, some lesbian and gay issues never make it into school
newspapers. As executive director of the Washington, D.C.-based Student
Press Law Center (SPLC), Mark Goodman fields calls from student
journalists facing censorship or other legal problems. In the case of
homosexual issues, this often involves censorship of advertising for
support groups for adolescents concerned about their sexual orientation.

For example, according to the SPLC Report, an ad offering counseling for
gay, lesbian, and bisexual students was cut from the Pirate's Hook at
Riverside High School in Durham, North Carolina, after parents protested
to the principal. The ad had already appeared in several other local
student and commercial newspapers.

The Pirate's Hook staff voted 10-2 to run the ad the first time they saw
it; principal William Batchelor and the adviser met separately, and also
agreed it could be printed. However, when the parents protested, Mr.
Batchelor requested it be run in a "less visible" location. The high
school staff moved the ad, but the parents were not satisfied. After the
second printing, the principal decided to cut the ad entirely.

The controversy soon surfaced in the local Herald-Sun newspaper. Two
Riverside students wrote an article conceding the principal's right to
slice the ad, but attacking his basis for doing so (he said that running
the ad condoned its message, which had upset "many parents"). The
principal added that he was advised by a local mental health
professional that the ad could be damaging to students, because "high
school males particularly are confused about their sexuality." Mr.
Batchelor said that he was told the content of the ad could lead these
students "to go one way instead of the other."

Erin Iannacchione, editor-in-chief of the Pirate's Hook and co-author of
the Herald-Sun piece, said that there were letters to the editor
supporting both sides of the debate every day for about a month. "All
this came from one little ad that wants to help people," she observed.
"There are still people out there that need that service. These people
shouldn't have to think that they are doing something wrong."

A similar situation arose in the Virginia suburbs when Annandale High
School principal Ray Watson refused to allow the student newspaper the A
Blast to run an ad from Washington's SMYAL. The ad, which provided
information on gatherings for gay, lesbian, and bisexual youngsters,
along with a helpline number for information and counseling, was
submitted to seventy-nine Washington-area high schools; only fifteen
initially published it.

The problem began when the A Blast student business manager Matt McGuire
and editor Margie Brown argued over whether to accept the ad. A majority
of staffers favored publication, but Mr. Watson refused to allow it. The
principal based his decision, Matt told the SPLC Report, on conservative
community standards, personal beliefs, and a court decision. Matt
resigned his position after the incident, and told the Washington Post
that he felt community advertisers would shy away from a paper with the
gay advertisement. "What sort of position do we want to have in the
community?" he asked. "The idea of being associated with gays and
lesbians, it bothers me."

But Margie, the editor, disagreed, saying, "You can't allow some ads to
run and not others. It's censorship. The ad was not inappropriate by any
standards ... The original decision was based on homophobic attitudes."

An appeal to school superintendent E. Wayne Harris worked, and the
advertisement appeared in a subsequent A Blast issue.

A stronger reaction occurred in Williams Bay, Wisconsin, when students
published a series of articles on homosexuality in the Bulldog Barker.
The two-page spread included an interview with a gay man, a report on
community counseling for gays, and a general information piece. Twelve
residents complained, after which community members protested, the
administration considered discontinuing the paper, the faculty adviser's
job was reviewed, and editor Jennifer Knight became something of a hero
in the gay press.

The protests cascaded in from all sides, ranging from members of local
religious groups to those who felt that AIDS was insufficiently
discussed. Others believed the articles' sources, including the American
Psychiatric Association, were not reliable or relevant. (The community
became involved because the Bulldog Barker is distributed with a local
paper, and thus reaches beyond the student body.)

Principal Patrick Byrnes, who told the SPLC Report that he had mixed
emotions about the article, felt that the controversy was caused not by
the administration, but by the appearance of a local church group at a
school board meeting. "Williams Bay is a very conservative town," he
said. "Although we have another, more liberal religious group, the
conservative church that complained about the articles is very active."

Editor Knight said the articles were "burning topics" for many students,
and were handled responsibly. "I think it's a shame to have to diminish
the quality of a newspaper in order to avoid controversy," she said.
While she eventually felt a sense of support from the community,
students, and school board, and was quoted in several gay papers, she
believed the self-censorship of the staff that resulted damaged
everyone.

A school principal in Fort Worth, Texas, also got into the act when
students working on the Arlington Heights High School Jacket Journal
attempted to distribute an anonymous survey to four hundred students
about their attitudes toward homosexuality, including their exposure to
it through family, friends, or personal experience. The idea arose after
twelve men at nearby Carswell Air Force Base were discharged because of
their sexual orientation.

Homosexuality hung heavily on students' minds, stated faculty adviser
Donya Witherspoon. "Some of these students even live on the air force
base. They'd been asking to run this survey on homosexuality to find out
just what the attitudes of their peers were about a sensitive subject."
She called the survey "bland" compared to similar (and permissible)
student surveys concerning drugs, child abuse, date rape, and teenage
drinking.

Principal Winifred Taylor felt that the survey was offensive, and likely
to cause emotional problems in those who participated. Ms. Witherspoon
disagreed, noting that previous surveys had not "promoted" drugs or
drinking. "Distribution of a survey does not mean that students feel any
certain way about an issue," she said. "They were not trying to promote
homosexuality. That's not a survey's function."

Forbidden to hand out the surveys, the Jacket Journal published instead
a copy of the survey itself, along with a related editorial. When the
school board met to discuss the subject nearly one hundred parents,
faculty members, and students showed up to support the staff's right to
conduct the survey; the incident was covered on three local television
stations, and in the Fort Worth Star-Telegram. Eventually the students
reached a compromise: the principal won the right to review all surveys
within classrooms, but students are now allowed to distribute surveys
before and after school, and during lunch, without administrative
approval. While pleased with what was termed a victory, the students
nevertheless had one final complaint: managing editor Angela Sweeney
called the principal's three-day survey review period "ridiculous."

Finally, one story proves that not all high school papers treat lesbian
and gay issues as Very Serious Stuff. In the May 1993 issue of the
Mountlake Terrace (Washington) High School Hawkeye, Bryan Theiss dove
into the debate "Do you decide to be gay?" with a delicious parody. His
dry wit would have impressed Oscar Wilde.

"I can still remember it like it was yesterday: the day I made one of
the most important decisions of my life," he began. He met the Sexuality
Fairy, who visits "everyone when they must decide who and what they will
be sexually attracted to later in life." The fairy gave Bryan three
choices -- "hetero, homo or bi" -- and then elaborated. If he chose to
be homosexual, Bryan said the fairy told him, he would be treated as an
outcast, blamed for the spread of the HIV virus, never allowed to marry
the one he loved, barred from jobs in certain fields, castigated for
asking for "special privileges," urged to change, assaulted, perhaps
even killed. If he decided to be bisexual, the fairy continued, Bryan
would be treated with much the same misunderstanding. If, however, he
chose to be heterosexual, he would be "considered by most to be normal
... [and would] better appreciate a lot of the jokes on In Living
Color."

Well! "The pressure was on. So many choices -- and they all sounded so
good! The same sex down one road, along with a large segment of society
hating me because of my attraction. Both sexes down another road, with
the same hatred. And the opposite sex down the third road, with no
drawbacks. How could I possibly decide?" Bryan wrote.

"Oh, I don't know," he told the fairy. "How about ... uh ... hetero?
Yeah. I'll be hetero, I guess."

"Hetero it is!" the fairy replied. And with the wave of a magic wand
Bryan ran off to the other side of the playground, "to throw dirt bombs
at girls in hopes they would notice me.

"It was hard to believe that such a tough decision could be made in so
little time," he admitted. "But I made the decision, so I felt the
attraction.

"It wasn't until later in life that I met the Physical Attributes Fairy,
who made me decide whether the girls I was attracted to should be
blonde, brunette, or bald with no teeth," he concluded. "But that's
another fairy tale."

(excerpted from SCHOOL'S OUT: THE IMPACT OF GAY AND LESBIAN ISSUES ON
AMERICA'S SCHOOLS, published by Alyson Publications, Inc. (1995).


CONTACT INFORMATION:

Dan Woog 
301 Post Rd.
East Westport, CT 06880
Tel: (203) 227-1755

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