The Closet, the Classroom, and Beyond

This chapter traces the journey of a queer priest whose earliest encounters with school were marked as much by silence and shame as by learning. Through narrative, I reflect on the moment when Spirit Week, a space meant for joy, became a site of cruelty that reshaped how I saw myself and how I moved through classrooms. What followed was a long season of hiding—policing my body, my voice, and my clothes—while teachers looked away and peers turned bullying into routine. Yet alongside the harm were spaces of survival: marching band, 4-H, and the school newspaper. These programs, led by adults who noticed and trusted me, offered belonging, and reminded me that I was more than the slurs whispered in the hallways. Those experiences became the blueprint for the educator I would later become. I did not enter teaching to perfect lessons but to create spaces where students feel safe enough to bring their full selves. Today, my pedagogy is less about managing behavior and more about presence—seeing the student who is slipping away, hearing the one who feels unheard, and reminding every learner that they matter. This chapter insists that education must be about building a world where no one has to shrink to survive.