As a secondary school teacher of English, Wittgenstein’s aphorism ”the limits of my language are the limits of my world” has long resonated with me and provided much of the moral imperative for my job in education.

And, in some ways, it also helps to explain the silent struggle of my own adolescence.

Simply put, for a long time, I did not have a language with which to understand or articulate my feelings of, what I now know to be, gender dysphoria.

Something visceral and indefinable

Even on into my twenties, as I was falling through life, I couldn’t find the words to help with the complex thoughts that persisted.

Something visceral and indefinable growled within, but I didn’t dare confront it.

In my late twenties I fell in love with both a person and a job but, despite these things keeping me extraordinarily busy, the restless thoughts dominated my private world.

And so, in January 2016 (the week that David Bowie died) I told my family of my intention to transition from female to male.

From January to Easter, I felt derelict. Everything was raw and nothing about life, outside of the classroom, seemed salvageable.

Born This Way

In early June 2016 I was promoted to assistant principal, and I was enormously excited and proud to secure the position.

However, my thoughts moved from cheer to consternation as I confronted the reality of telling school my intention to transition.

I was paranoid that people would question my ability to do the job and, at my lowest ebb, I even doubted my appropriateness for the role.

However my school, Sir Robert Woodard Academy in Lancing, has a proud history of being LGBT inclusive and, over the years, it has worked hard to promote visibility and equality.

For instance during one LGBT History month, we pumped out gay anthems through the school PA system such as Diana Ross ‘I’m Coming Out’ and Lady Gaga’s ‘Born This Way’.

‘Nothing but respect and support’

But still, none of this did much to temper my feelings of both shame and fear. Eventually, though, with the support of a colleague from the English department, I met with a senior leader and sputtered out my truth. I remember little of what followed - I only remember my tears being met by her reassurance.

That evening I received an email from the acting principal, at Sir Robert Woodard Academy, and in that email, the line: “You’ll get nothing but respect and support from me”.

Time and dignity

The next morning I met with him and I shared some of my fears about how parents, students and colleagues might receive the news.

I remember moments of extended silence, as I struggled to find reason and language in my overly stressed mind.

However, when I left his office about an hour later, having committed my actions to a time frame, I had much greater clarity about what I needed to do and a firm resolve to move forward. I will always be grateful for the dignity I was afforded in this meeting.

And so, in line with the action plan I had recently constructed, I made an appointment with HR, and began developing my plans for how I would communicate the change to both staff and students. 

Briefing my colleagues

So one Thursday morning, nearing the end of my sixth year at Sir Robert Woodard Academy, I stood up at the staff morning briefing and explained to my colleagues that I was transgender and that I would soon begin the process of transitioning from female to male.

Certainly, it was one of the harder things I have had to do in my life, but it was important for me to find the courage to address people directly and to lay myself bare.

Furthermore, I wrote a simple message to students that explained I would be changing my pronouns in the new school year.

What followed was the widespread support and best wishes of the majority of the staff and student body: no pitchforks at the school gates or requests to move from my class.

Many people came to speak with me or emailed me their words of support. A few students asked rather imaginative questions, but others sent their messages of support. A student from Year 10 wrote: 

“Thought I’d let you know you have my 100% support. It makes me really happy to know that you’re doing what you’ve probably always wanted to do! You’ve probably been told this millions of times, but I’m not sure adults hear it as much as us students, and that is that everything’s going to be fine :) All the best.”

The future

As I write this, it is early June 2020, and I am nearing the end of a decade at the Sir Robert Woodard Academy, and my fourth school year as Mr. Scantlebury. I remain a teacher of English and my position as Assistant Headteacher was made substantive.

Of course, my transition is still in relative infancy so, invariably, aspects of my working life (and indeed life in general) remain challenging: taking registers (the ubiquity of gender pronouns in the education system is remarkable); making telephone calls (yes, you are speaking to Mr Scantlebury…); meeting new people (teachers from other schools, Governors, Ofsted inspectors!) and travelling to new places where I am unfamiliar with ‘the toilet situation’.

I cannot say my gender dysphoria has gone away; it is still there lurking in some far corner of my mind. It can come while I’m in the middle of reading a book - a sudden unsettling feeling of not being quite myself.

However, I am more myself now than I ever dared to dream and, back in the classroom, I feel happier and more productive than ever. 

Harry Scantlebury is an assistant head and English teacher.