Changing gears, p.7
Changing Gears, page 7
“Ah, yeah.” She threw a glance in Abi’s direction to check she had left before letting go of the breath she didn’t realise she was holding. Her heart beat in the pit of her stomach and her mouth had run dry again.
Throwing herself in the shower, Jen set the water blasting, hoping the heat and percussion would wash away the nervous tension that wouldn’t settle. She was both electrified and filled with shame, and intensely aware of how easily those feelings could overwhelm her and get her in trouble. With clenched teeth she scrubbed herself clean, shoving away thoughts and feelings Abi’s nearness untethered.
Dinner in town was a strained affair. Jen suddenly couldn’t relax around her friend, and she knew she was overcompensating for her awkwardness by being even more awkward. Eventually Abi dialled back her chattiness and let her be in her discomfort, opting to call it a night in favour of bed and a book.
Jen left her at the bottom of the road to their accommodation, electing to wander the narrow lanes and streets of Les Baux. As the sun finished its descent, she found a spot to watch the sky turn. She’d been through this mental convolution before, questioning herself about her reaction to someone of entirely the wrong gender. It didn’t mean anything, it wasn’t a reflection of who she was. She dated men, wasn’t interested in women, and was as straight as they came. Her mother’s voice chimed in from the back of her mind. Decent, godly women didn’t entertain that kind of lifestyle, and they didn’t associate with people who did. Those kinds of people were dangerous. Maybe that’s it, Jen mused, trying to placate herself. It’s because I’m around Abi. This isn’t me. I’m not that teenager anymore. With a deep breath, Jen looked out over the dark countryside, quashing her panic before making her way back to the villa. With every step she ignored the tiny part of her that clamoured for attention.
Sydney
Friday, 6 April, 2018
When Jen arrived at school the next morning, the grounds were abuzz with students, tight knots of gossip, some visibly angry, others sanctimonious. As she crossed the quad towards the main building, snippets of conversation reached her and it didn’t take long for her to realise the furore brewing centred on Emily and the reasons for her absence.
When she arrived at her shared office, several members of the English faculty were clustered in a corner, murmuring among themselves. Chatter stopped for a moment. Karen got up and left the group to join her at her desk.
“Word’s out, I take it,” Jen muttered as she put her bag down and started to unpack.
“Someone’s set up an Instagram hashtag called homophobia at St Millies. They’ve tagged Emily and Ashleigh. The comments are vicious. I heard the parents were in yesterday.”
The others stopped talking to hear Jen’s response.
“Yeah, it was tense but hopefully everything’s settled,” Jen replied, cagily. “As long as nothing else happens.”
“That’s unlikely.” Karen rolled her eyes. “We’ve a lot of really upset students, and other schools are being named now. This could really get out of hand. You ok?”
Jen shrugged, uneasy with being the centre of attention. “Glad it’s Friday.”
“You and me both. Ok, well, go carefully today. Come get me if anything happens. You don’t need a repeat of Tuesday.”
Her first class of the morning was her Year Twelve girls. She had hardly closed the door before the questions started. One voice rose above the rest.
“What’s happened to that girl, Emily Jamison, Miss?”
The room fell silent. Jen stalled, her back to them as she unpacked her bag. Taking a deep breath, she turned and sat on the edge of her desk. “Ok, everyone, let’s sit down for starters.” Muttering, the girls returned to their spots, staring at her expectantly. “Look, it’s not appropriate for me to discuss…”
She didn’t get to finish her sentence. Whatever argument had been going on before she arrived reignited as the room quickly ignored her and got back to debating their suspicions. Two very polar sides to the disagreement quickly coalesced, one pro the school and the other on Emily’s side. As voices rose, she clapped her hands loudly, struggling to regain some control. “That’s enough. I’m happy for us to discuss the broader aspects of this, but we’ll do it civilly. No more yelling.”
“No one should be expelled for being gay.”
“We haven’t expelled anyone,” Jen interrupted.
“They should be! For homophobia, right?!” A few girls cheered and Jen waved them all quiet again.
“We have an anti-bullying policy, yes. And we do not tolerate homophobic language.”
“Well, Emily shouldn’t have harassed someone.”
“And homosexuality is a sin…”
Jen held her hands up, and the chorus of acrimony petered to silence. There was no containing the conversation, that much was clear. The girls were upset. Silencing them was only going to add fuel to the fire. The best approach she could think to take was to mediate it.
“OK, it’s fair to say we have two sets of differing opinions in the room. Those of you who think homosexuality has no place at St Mildred’s and those who think the school should be more inclusive. Yes?” A murmur of ascent passed around the room. “Right, christian values, move to the left, please. Inclusivity to the right. Go.” Chairs scraped as girls got up to reseat themselves on the side they supported. To Jen’s surprise, there was a roughly even split. Turning to the whiteboard, she picked up a pen. “Here’s our debate topic: Is it OK to be out at St Mildred’s?”
She stepped back a moment to stare at the words she had written, aware suddenly she had just taken the lid off the topic. For a moment she considered erasing the question and replacing it with something less clear cut, less inflammatory, but turning back to the class and their satisfied smiles, she knew that would be a mistake. On a whim, she threw caution to the wind. The one aspect of teaching she took most seriously was expanding minds and challenging biases. If she was going to be true to that commitment, she needed to stick to the question she’d written. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin. “Those on the left will argue for being out. Those on the right, you’re the against team.”
Murmurs rippled. They knew arguing both sides was a required skill, but this was such an emotionally charged topic. Having to argue for something many vehemently opposed wasn’t what they’d had in mind.
“You’ve got twenty minutes to get your points together and nominate your team’s speaker.”
For twenty tense minutes Jen romanced the room, listening as students raised points to shore up their positions. When the debate itself happened, the exchange was animated, but she had to give the young women their dues. They argued with passion for their allotted sides regardless of their beliefs. When arguments were over, everyone returned to their seats.
Sitting on the edge of her desk again, Jen nodded per approval. “That was comprehensive, and respectful.”
“Who won?”
She cocked her head, looking from face to face. “Who do you think should win?” The young women in her class were smart, considerate, and respectful, and as concerned as she had been going into the exercise, she was confident they would make the right decision. The tense silence that followed was unexpected, and as she surveyed the room, she could see the discord the debate had been designed to diffuse take root again. “Alright, let’s leave the discussion for now, but for homework….” A unanimous groan underscored her instructions. “I want you to bullet point arguments for both positions, and determine the winner of the debate.” The bell sounded, cutting her off. Chair legs scraped as the girls got up and stuffed their books in their bags. “Remember, you’re judging on the merits of the argument…” Jen trailed off as she watched them leave, each girl a tight knot of tension and pique. Instead of diffusing the situation, she feared she had only delayed the inevitable, and her apprehension returned with a vengeance.
Morning break bore her worries out.
“Jen?” Karen stuck her head around the office door. “We need extra hands in the quad. Grab anyone else you can find on the way, would you?”
“What’s going on?”
“Impromptu anti-homophobia rally.”
Jen’s eyebrows shot up. As she closed her laptop and stuffed her phone in her pocket, she hoped she hadn’t been the only one dealing with a classroom of malcontent. And that the protest leaders were not her Year Twelve class.
She ran into the Stephanie, the head of PDHPE, on her way outside and they arrived together to a small crowd of senior girls clustered outside the main building windows.
“SMLC, homophobia free,” they chanted. More girls walked towards them, some picking up the chant.
“Jesus,” Steph muttered, nudging her as a small group of young woman approached bearing crosses taken from walls around the school. Jen gawked, dismay rooting her to the spot.
“Love the sinner, not the sin. Love the sinner, not the sin!” The competing rally cries were like magnets, pulling in girls to both sides as they tried to drown one another out. It didn’t take long before harsher comments swirled and tempers flared.
“Right, let’s go.” Steph waded in, motioning for everyone to move back and be quiet. A dazed Jen followed, offering hollow, placating comments, coaxing calm where she could.
Loud clapping split the air, shutting down the chanting and sending a rush of fright through the crowd. Jen cringed at the sight of Yvonne striding across the grass.
“That’s enough! This is not how St Mildred’s ladies behave!” The girls cowled in unison. “Right. Who would like to explain what’s going on here?” She looked from student to student, her eyes finally landing on Jen. One pencil thin eyebrow rose in a menacing arc.
“Have you suspended Emily Jamison because she’s gay, Mrs MacKechnie?” A student stepped forward, her phone in her hand. “That’s what’s going around.” She held up her device and, to her credit, MacKechnie actually stepped forward to read the social media post the girl was referring to.
“Thank you, Angela, but no, she hasn’t been suspended. Emily is taking a few days from school. She has been feeling unwell…”
“Being gay isn’t an illness,” someone hissed, and mutters of agreement surged through the crowd.
“I appreciate your concern for Emily’s wellbeing, and I’m sure she’s grateful you’re all thinking of her. But this is not how we act at St Mildred’s. This is a personal matter, not one to be debated in the middle of school grounds,” and the Principal threw another glance in Jen’s direction. Checking her watch, she nodded to Steph. “The bell will ring shortly. Everyone, make your way to your next class, please. And I do not want to hear of any more disruptions today, girls. Am I clear?“ Whispering amongst themselves, the crowd dispersed. Jen ducked away, but not before she was speared by Yvonne’s sharp stare.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, Jen counting time until she could escape campus. But as the end of last period approached, MacKechnie’s voice rang out over the PA, calling all staff to a meeting at the end of classes. When the bell finally rang, Jen nearly jumped out of her skin.
The school faculty was packed wall to wall in the teacher’s lounge. Jen found a snug spot next to Karen and several close colleagues. If the split amongst students about the “Emily situation” was obvious, it was doubly so in the staffroom. Conversations were muted, but expressions told their own story. Compassion and disgust faced off across the small space. When Yvonne entered, the chatter stopped.
“I cannot express how incredibly disappointed I am about today’s outburst,” she intoned, straightening the front of her jacket. “In all my years I have never had to deal with a protest, and certainly not one focusing on such a distasteful issue.” Her cheeks flushed, and she cleared her throat angrily. “This kind of behaviour is not tolerated at my school, and I will not put up with it. We deal with our issues quietly, not airing them out for all to see. I am working extremely hard to ensure the Jamison problem does not get out of hand, and this sort of thing undermines that work.
“Now, I’m aware some of you wish to support the Jamison girl, but I’m going to reiterate to you all again. We are a Christian school. We uphold Christian values. Homosexuality is a sin, we do not promote or support it at this school. If you do not agree with our school values, I suggest you find positions at other schools that better align with your personal values. This is not an opportunity to engage girls in debates about the ethics of homosexuality,” and she looked around the room until she found Jen, her eyes narrowing at the sight of her. “And if I find anyone engaging in this kind of ad hoc teaching moment, you will be fired for breach of contract. That kind of dialogue only harms our students, and I absolutely will not tolerate it. Do I make myself clear? Jen?”
The flush that burned her cheeks was violent and shame-fuelled, but as Jen stood under the gaze of the entire faculty, she felt Karen grip her arm.
“If there are questions regarding Emily Jamison,” Yvonne continued, “those students are to be sent straight to me. From next Monday, phones and tablets will not be available to students during class. Students will be instructed to leave their devices in their lockers or risk having them confiscated. You all have the weekend to adjust your lesson plans if you have device use as part of your activities.”
“How long is the ban?” a teacher asked.
“It is not a ban. We are simply taking advantage of an opportunity to give our girls a break from social media. I will revise the temporary policy change near the end of the week, if I am satisfied things have settled. Questions?” No one spoke. “Right, I’d be grateful if everyone could leave campus as soon as possible today. Any work you have planned, please do it at home. Given the unrest, I want the school gates closed.”
With that, the staff dispersed, quietly weaving their way past the Principal. Some met her eye with a supportive nod, others feigned distraction as they drifted out. Before Jen could slip past, Yvonne caught her arm.
“I’d like a quick word, Jennifer.”
Karen gave her a sympathetic smile as she left her behind. Jen took a seat, readying herself for the grilling she knew was coming. When the last staff member left, MacKechnie closed the door.
“I cannot tell you how incredibly disappointed I was when I heard today’s ruckus was because of you.” Jen opened her mouth to stay something, but Yvonne’s hand snapped up, silencing her. “I’d assumed we understood each other, Jenny. Instead, I find you stirring students up and encouraging them to engage in debates about the morality of a sin that has no ambiguity when it comes to our faith position. What were you thinking?”
There were only two ways Jen could reply to MacKechnie’s question, but they had very different implications—for herself as well as the students she felt responsible for. It took less than a heartbeat for her to decide where she stood. “Respectfully, Yvonne, students are already debating whether what happened to Emily is right. My management of that debate today diffused a very volatile argument. I had no intentions of stirring the girls up, and I certainly never expected a protest. But what happened today shows how concerned they are, and how they feel about what’s happened to Emily. That it’s unfair.”
“Emily is taking a few days from school. That was her parents’ choice. You know that,” she snapped. “And let’s be clear on what’s causing harm. Until Emily’s behaviour drew our attention, we had no issues with our girls behaving this way to one another.”
“Oh please,” Jen snorted, then caught herself. “My apologies, Mrs MacKechnie. But really? We pride ourselves on empowering every young woman here. We encourage them to be kind, thoughtful, critically engaged, and ethical. How can we think they wouldn’t react this way to a student being bullied because of her sexuality?”
“Every student comes here not only for a well-rounded education, but to live their faith, to learn about their faith, to strengthen their faith. That is as critical a part of their education at St Mildred’s as maths and English. And every parent who sends their child here would agree.”
“Except the Jamison’s,” Jen retorted, her frown as deep as Mrs MacKechnie’s. The Principal let out a long sigh, shaking her head lightly. “Homophobia causes anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, self harm. Yvonne, surely we have a duty of care towards every student, to protect them…”
“We do protect them, Jenny,” MacKechnie interjected. “Miss Clarke works diligently to ensure every girl knows she has a safe space to retreat to, that she can share the burdens of her soul. We are an accepting school, we love every girl here, and we forgive their sins, all of them. But we must also protect them from the evils of the world. We must encourage them to resist sin, to remain pure of spirit and follow God’s word. I don’t see our students struggling, Jennifer. But I think, perhaps you might be.” Jen’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t doubt you think you were doing the right thing this morning. You weren’t. However, I am willing to forgive your misstep. But I do think you need to take some time to determine what it is you want from your career. And whether St Mildred’s is the right fit for you.”
“Jen, I don’t know what to say here. The whole thing sounds pretty volatile. I found the hashtag while we’ve been talking. It’s pretty messy.” Abi’s nose crinkled with concern, her blue eyes sad. Jen was slumped on her sofa, phone propped between her knees, wine in hand. She’d already had two glasses, and was still waiting for the alcohol to take the edge off. “I said you needed to work out what side of this you’re on. I guess this means you’ve decided?”
“I think so,” she replied, staring at her friend. “But I suspect it’s going to cost me my job.”
“Oh,” Abi grunted, her concern deepening. “Are you absolutely sure this is what you want to do?”
Jen sighed and rubbed at her face, trying to scrub away her bewilderment. “If I don’t follow this through, Abi, what does that say about me? I can’t stand by and let a school bully a fifteen-year-old girl. I can’t be complicit in that. It goes against everything I believe in as a teacher. For god’s sake, as a bloody human being.”
