It’s the night before transition day and I am lying awake, staring at the ceiling.

“If I sleep now, I’ll get six hours…If I sleep now, I’ll get five…”

Sleeplessness and teaching go hand in hand, at times. What will this class be like? Will the parents be OK? Are there any behaviour problems in this group? Will I still remember how to teach after the holidays?

The question keeping me up tonight, though, is: am I making the right decision by coming out to these pupils tomorrow?

Tough questions to avoid

Initially, I didn’t come out to the students at school. It was easy to hide my sexuality. Occasionally, an older child would ask if I had a boyfriend and I’d answer “no” and move on.

Then I got married. Then I got pregnant. Then the questions were harder to avoid.

I was working in Thailand, at the time. Although on the surface, it seems as if Thailand is a very accepting place for LGBT+ people, that is not always the case.

There are no teacher unions offering backup and it can be difficult to fight an unfair dismissal at a private international school.

I asked at an interview once: if a parent saw me holding hands or kissing my girlfriend in public and didn’t like it, what would happen. The director answered, “I don’t know.” I did not accept a position at that school.

Wanting to be open

When I did start working at school, I hated being dishonest to my students and made the decision that I’d answer their questions truthfully.

I decided I wanted to come out and be the positive LGBT+ role model for my students that I never had when I was young. Hopefully, when they grew up and met LGBT+ people, they’d remember that teacher who was gay as a normal person. Hopefully, the LGBT+ students wouldn’t feel so alone, so scared. Hopefully, they’d all know that an LGBT+ person can be married with a family, just like anyone else.

It was an interesting experience.

I explained to the 10-year-old Thai girl who asked (after finding out I was pregnant) that, yes, I was married - to the woman who ran the climbing club with me after school.

The next day, she approached me and told me her mum thought we were “just friends”. I smiled and agreed, “Yes, we are friends, too,” and left it at that.

Being accepted

We moved again, this time to Spain, when my son was turning two and he was eligible to attend the pre-nursery at my next school.

I knew it would quickly become common knowledge that he had two mothers, so, with permission from the headmaster, I decided I would explain my family to my next class during the transition lesson.

I prepared a PowerPoint presentation with slides introducing myself, my hobbies and my experience.

On the last slide, I placed a photo of myself, my wife and my son. I took a deep breath, steadied my nerves and told my class this was my family. I asked them who they thought the boy and the woman were.

They quickly answered that the boy was my son but gave lots of incorrect suggestions as to who the woman. “Is it your sister? Is she your aunt? Your grandmother?”

I should explain here that I am white and blonde, and my wife is Thai, so I did have a good laugh during the conversation.

Eventually, one hit on the right answer and I watched the lightbulb of understanding flash above the others’ heads. And that was it. Totally accepted.

No confusion, no questions - that was it. The relief and lightness I felt were palpable.

Prejudice and motivation

A day or two later, a parent approached me and told me she had asked her daughter about her new teacher and she was very proud that my sexuality was the third or fourth thing the daughter mentioned. It really wasn’t an issue for the kids.

Another move, another city and another school later, I showed the same PowerPoint presentation, almost without fear. Again, after the initial comedy guesses, someone figured it out and we moved on.

A few months later, someone slipped three, unsolicited, Catholic flyers in my son’s backpack during school hours. I’m still not sure who or what their motivation was.

A little after that, a secondary teacher shared a conversation he’d had with a student who had a younger sibling in my class. “I don’t think it’s right that my sister’s teacher told her she’s gay. She’s only nine!” the student had announced during a related discussion.

I suddenly felt sick. I had a great relationship with the student in my class, but I had always felt her mother was off with me. I find it hard to believe prejudice in a 13-year-old hasn’t been some way developed at home. Was theirs the only family who felt like that?

I’m still at the same school now, staring down the barrel of another transition day. This time, though, it’s online because of quarantine and it’s likely the parents will sit beside their children, keen to get a feel for the new teacher.

For the first time in 10 years, I am scared to come out. 

“If I sleep now, I’ll get four hours sleep…”

Emma Rawlinson is a primary school teacher who has been teaching internationally for more than 10 years. She currently lives in Spain with her wife and her young family