Yesterday, I sent home permission slips so my juniors and seniors can watch Brokeback Mountain.
This morning, I was talking to one of my colleagues about my lesson plan. He also teaches film and will occasionally drop a work into his curriculum that he knows is “risky,” but which he believes is absolutely valuable enough to take the chance. We were just talking about what I would do with kids who don’t come back with their permission forms when one of my students popped into our conversation.
“My father refused to sign my permission slip,” he told us. “He said that he doesn’t need me ‘to see two gay guys getting it on, and all puffballs should go to hell.'”
I turned to my colleague and said, “Like this kid, for example. Where do I put him while we’re watching the movie?”
My colleague was just about to tell me he could take my student in his class when the boy piped up – with an enormous, shit-eating grin on his face – “Oh, no – it’s okay; I got my MOM to sign it!”