"Queering our schools" by the editors of rethinking Reflection

The story of Illinois legalizing same-sex marriage and the assault on Sasha Fleischman's bus paints a vivid picture of the complexities of LGBTQ+ issues. It's a tale of progress and setbacks, showcasing the strides forward and the community's persistent challenges. Oakland High School students and teachers' response to Sasha's assault is a powerful example of community support. They rallied around Sasha, organizing fundraisers and events to show solidarity, proving that schools can be places of empathy and activism. Sasha's family's focus on education instead of punishment offers an important lesson. They emphasize the need for dialogue and understanding to address the root causes of such incidents, advocating for a more compassionate approach to conflict resolution. Creating safe and nurturing environments in schools requires a holistic approach. It means having inclusive curricula that reflect diverse experiences, support systems for LGBTQ+ students and staff, and opportunities for students to advocate for change. Integrating LGBTQ+ perspectives into education can foster empathy and understanding among students. Schools can promote acceptance and respect for all individuals by celebrating diverse stories and challenging stereotypes.

In my high school, we had many clubs and programs that reached out to many individuals in the LGBTQ+ community. I knew many people who joined and found that it helped their school experience. We had counselors and teachers who could relate to the students and could be seen as a support system. My school did not have many situations where a student felt unsafe in the classroom because of their sexual or gender orientation. Many students were accepting and supportive of the LGBTQ community.

"Eliminating Ableism in Education" Thomas Hehir Reflection

  In high school, a student named Jason (for the sake of the story) was almost entirely deaf. He was a transfer student who joined during my senior year after COVID-19 was deemed over. We had a couple of classes together and the same lunch period so that I could talk to him weekly. And by "talk," I don't mean vocally. Jason was born partially deaf, and it progressed over the years, so he was never able to learn how to talk fully. But because I didn't know ASL, we would write in a notebook or text each other. Jason can lip-read very well, telling everyone that so they don't have to worry about writing everything down. But because we had a mask mandate for a while, he found it very difficult. 

When Jason first started going to my school, the teachers immediately took action to ensure he had all the supplies he needed to learn without any issues. They installed microphones on the teachers' shirts that translated what they said onto his laptops and phones. They also had a teacher assistant who knew sign language and helped him in some classes. The worst part was that some teachers and students didn't know the severity of his hearing loss, so they just yelled at him or completely ignored his requests. But that was put to an immediate end when the superintendent entered the school to deal with the matter. Jason told me that some other schools had not been as accommodating to his condition. He had difficulty making friends, completing assignments, and even finding a job. Growing up, the schools would put Jason into a disabilities classroom, but it was only meant for students with Down syndrome or significant mobility disabilities. He could learn, read, and write just fine; he could not hear.