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| Image credit: SickestFame via Flickr.com |
LGBTQ
"safe space" stickers on the doors. Check.
Staff
using the proper pronouns and transgender terminology. Check.
Male,
female and all-gender washrooms and change rooms available. Check.
Everyone
is hella friendly. Check.
I was running through a very important list
in my head as I sat in the middle school's main office this week, checking off
item by item.
My daughter has made a very brave and
unexpected decision: she is going back to school next year.
It's a year earlier than we had planned.
The initial goal was to stay home through grades 7 and 8 while she gains
confidence and resiliency, and then re-enroll for grade 9 in a high school
where she doesn't know anyone. A fresh start for her, something she desperately
wanted.
But what did I say a little while back?
Transitions are so... transition-y. And
I should really know by now that life doesn't go as planned. But then again,
I'm the girl who carefully picks the shortest line at the grocery store and
inevitably ends up behind the coupon-wielding price-matcher every. single. time. I'm a bit of a chaos magnet. I think I was
born for it.
Last week I received an incredible
out-of-the-blue email from our local middle school's principal. She had heard
our interview on CBC and wanted me to know that if we were ever interested in
considering re-enrollment for grade 8, she would be happy to meet with us.
This was the school Alexis would have
attended this year if we hadn't decided to homeschool. She vowed never to go there. Not so long ago, the idea used to fill her with dread and anxiety. I really didn't think
she would be keen to accept the principal's invitation. Like, at all. So I very
delicately approached her with the idea.
She jumped all over it. "OMG. When can
I go?" "What do I wear?" "Oh! I'm going to pick out my
outfit right now, ok?" "This is so great!" "Do I really
have to wait until September or can I start right now?"
I had an unplanned pregnancy once. He's 18
now and pretty cool. Life is a series of unplanned moments that are very much
like that: not at all what I thought was going to happen, but pretty cool. This
was definitely one of them.
What a difference a year can make. From terrified to thrilled. From closeted to confident.
Incredible.
What a difference a year can make. From terrified to thrilled. From closeted to confident.
Incredible.
The principal was warm and inviting and
wonderfully educated in trans issues. She's passionate about inclusion and
making sure everyone feels safe. She's an ally to the core. I can feel it.
Alex - in her pre-planned wardrobe - toured
the school with her and was greeted by many friendly faces. Her old classmates
were thrilled to see her, and really excited she was going to be rejoining them
in the fall.
Having already had my own tour a couple of
days before, I hung out in the main office to check the pulse of the school.
It's surprisingly viable. Yes, it's middle school, awash in a sea of hormones
and gangly limbs, but it seems like a good place. The kids are happy. The staff
is engaged. The place feels connected.
I'm not going to lie: I'm still worried.
The kids who gave her a really hard time go there, and I know how cruel kids can be at that age. But I hope that between
supportive staff, an active LGTBQ community and some strong allies, she's going
to be just fine.
I just want her to feel safe; she's a big
piece of my heart. I would say she's the most delicate piece, but that's
completely inaccurate. She seems delicate, but she's not. I've never met a
stronger person. She has emerged from the ashes of her former self as this
resilient, confident powerhouse of a girl.
She's not going to let anyone push her around.
And I will keep being her mom, her
advocate, and her grownup voice when she needs one. That's not going to stop.
I'll have my fingers on that school's pulse all year by keeping in touch with
the staff and volunteering my not-so-little tush off.
So for now I'm going to wrap up our
homeschooling (which was mediocre, at best - I'm not the world's best teacher),
make sure she's as caught up as possible, and ensure the lines of communication
stay open between us as she starts her new adventure in the fall.
And you know, while it wasn't a great year
for formal education, what she learned about herself was invaluable. I'm glad
we could give her the space to do that. It was a year of change and discovery
that you just can't get in a classroom.
My little phoenix is blazing her own trail
in her own way - on her own terms. Colour me impressed, you guys.