I am a former student of your "award-winning" school in Leawood, Kansas. I was enrolled there from 1986-1988, when I was between the ages of 12-14. Those are notoriously fragile years in a person's development, and like most other kids that age, I was awkward, insecure, and typically uncomfortable in my own skin. However, I was also very thin, flamboyant, and as some would say, "queeny" and "effeminite."
I didn't act this way to draw attention to myself; it was always how I behaved. My parents tried very hard to teach me how to "act like a boy," by discouraging me from waving my hands around when I talked, to not walk around on my toes, to stand up straight without cocking out my hip. But it was just how my body worked. It always has been, it still is. I had no idea I was gay at the time, I didn't understand anything about my sexuality. I was just a skinny, awkward kid.
Unfortunately, this made me red meat for the other students at school. I can tell you my years in your school were a complete nightmare. On a daily basis I was yelled at in the halls, called names, pushed/shoved, etc. In classes with assigned seating, I sometimes sat next to students who would spend entire class periods muttering under their breath various "fag" comments, until I would tell them to be quiet--and then I would be scolded by the teacher for talking. Many times after class, I tried to explain what was happening, but the teachers always told me it was both of our faults and I had to learn how to get along with people. So I had no choice but to sit there and listen.
On several occasions when the teacher would leave the room, students stood in front of the class and teach everyone chants of We hate Dan, or Dan is gay, stupid chants that everyone would mindlessly join because they didn't want to go against the group and become targets themselves. One day a teacher caught the procession in action--and she flew into a tirade against the class for acting like "foolish brats," and told them to never do it again. None of them ever said another word. That was all it took.
Finally one day, after being harrassed again in the halls, I snapped. When I got to class I began to sob; the teacher said nothing (NOTHING!) as he handed me a pass to go to the counselor's office. I told that counselor everything--who was following me around doing it, organizing groups to gang up against me, every day. I said clearly I needed help, I couldn't defend myself against groups of people, and I didn't want to get into a fight that would inevitably end up with me trying to fight several people at once. His response: ask them to stop making fun of me. And I should also try to blend in more with how I acted, because I stuck out too much. I left his office without saying another word. He taught me that adults weren't going to help.
Unfortunately I didn't know how to handle myself after that. I developed a nervous twitch, and I actually started hitting things without realizing I was doing it. I punched lockers, walls, the ground, whatever. And that led to occasionally hitting other students--I pulverized a kid after school, who had laughed along as other kids were calling me names. He didn't actually say anything that day. He just got too close to me as he walked by, when I felt like punching something. He never told anyone what happened. He also never made eye contact with me again.
I also began making fun of the "fat kid" in our grade, whom I viewed to be the only person "lower" than me. I was relentless, telling him how worthless he was, and he just looked confused about why I was coming after him. It made me feel better, for a few weeks. Then I felt awful. So I sat next to him in science class, and became his partner so I could be nice to him. He was beautifully forgiving, and talking to him was absolutely the best part of my day.
I was lucky; by eighth grade the main bullies had moved out of school, and things calmed down. Flare-ups happened through high school, usually involving groups of students and often in front of teachers who shrugged and said "calm down" as they walked away. But I had shifted from being a bullied target, to being just a typical social oddity that is at every school, and people generally left me alone. By then I had also grown very thick skin.
But this isn't about my experiences in high school. This is about your school--and although it's possible those teachers and that worthless guidance counselor are no longer there, nonetheless your "award-winning" school failed me completely. I asked for help and I didn't get it. People just presumed I was a crying kid, and I needed to get over it.
Perhaps your staff was overwhelmed because I was just one student out of many; perhaps they felt like I was asking for it. I don't know. But when groups of children see this happening, and then adults just walk by, they learn that no one is going to help. And they learn they're not important enough to help.
I would guess this had something to do with why Tyler Clementi threw himself off that bridge. It wasn't just because of one incident with a webcam. He probably felt a sense of hopelessness, because even if he did report the problem, nothing was going to be done to help him.
There are just as many gay kids in Johnson County, Kansas as there are anywhere else in the world. They are going to get picked on. And there are lots of other reasons kids are bullied, of course. But you have the ability to at least help them make things a fair fight. I wish my memories of your school were more pleasant, but I was miserable there, and it wasn't because of the other students. It was because I knew I couldn't do anything about it.
