hadn't helped him much. "She
doesn't like to be called Martha."
The principal smiled and glanced
over at his smirking passenger.
"I'm really glad for you, Louise."
Over a hurried dinner, the retired
teacher told her boss - her friend
- all about Marty Beck and how
they'd spent the summer and fall
in the North Carolina mountains. It
was delightful to be able to open
up about the one thing that had
made her so happy in the past
year.
"You'll have to bring her with you
on your next visit," Ted insisted.
"I might just do that. But you and
Dottie also have a standing
invitation at our house, either in
Florida or North Carolina."
Louise insisted on picking up the
tab, and soon, they were on their
way to the school board offices.
"Are you nervous?" he asked.
"Are you kidding? I just hope I
don't get up there and forget how
to speak."
"You'll be fine. Listen, I'm going
to use about 30 seconds of our
time to introduce you, if that's
okay. This new superintendent
doesn't know Louise Stevens, and
I think he should."
Louise nodded, shaking in
anticipation as they pulled into the
parking lot. Getting out of the car,
she spotted her former student
Michelle walking with her parents.
"Ted, will you excuse me? I need
to speak to the Sanders family."
"Of course."
Louise walked quickly to catch up
with Michelle and her parents.
"Michelle?"
The student turned at the familiar
voice, her eyes wide with
surprise. "Miss Stevens!"
The former teacher greeted the
family like old friends. "Mr. Meyer
tells me that you're on the agenda
for tonight."
"That's right. I can't believe
you're here!" Michelle said with
excitement. Her teacher had given
no clue that she would make the
trip.
"It was important to me to speak
out about this, too. I'm so glad you
told me what was going on."
"We're very proud of Michelle,"
Will Sanders spoke up, placing his
hand on his daughter's shoulder.
"I'm very proud of her too,"
Louise agreed. Her voice filled
with emotion, she pulled the girl
into a strong hug and told her,
"Michelle, I want you to know…
that I think you're one of the
most courageous people I've ever
known."
Coming from her favorite teacher,
those were words that Michelle
Sanders would treasure forever.
Ted Meyer caught up with the
group and they marched into the
assembly hall with determination.
The noisy room quieted when the
meeting was called to order.
Louise recognized the chairman…
Donald… Donald Sumter. He'd
graduated in one of her first
classes, back in… 1964. It wasn't
that he was memorable in high
school; rather, he'd been on the
school board for almost four
terms, now in his 10th year. And
the third one from the left was
Annette Hartig, though her name
was now Mowrey. She'd graduated
back in the mid-70s, and she'd
been in the band! Louise would use
that.
For more than an hour, the board
dispensed with other business;
choosing vendors and contractors
for specific projects, hearing
requests for redrawing school
boundaries; and proclaiming a
special day to honor the
Greensburg Golden Lions as State
Football Champs. Finally, they
reached new business, an open
forum to hear from the community
regarding the announced non-
renewal of Darren Ulster's
teaching contract.
Sumter began with the ground
rules: "There are five persons on
the agenda for this discussion,
and each will be given the allotted
four minutes to deliver their
remarks. No remarks will be heard
from those not on the agenda.
Following these speakers, the
board will adjourn to discuss the
issue in private, as all issues
pertaining to personnel are not
subject to open review."
Taking the podium first was
Darren Ulster himself, who spoke
not of his sexual orientation, but
of his love of teaching. He
implored the board to continue to
allow him to live his dream as a
band director in a top school
district, and he promised to
always perform his duties in a
professional manner.
The next two speakers were band
parents, the first of whom spoke
of how involvement in the band
had awakened in his teenage son
an interest in school. He
attributed this new zeal for
learning directly to the influence
of Darren Ulster. The second
parent spoke of Ulster's
dedication to his work, evidenced
by the consistent high marks in
regional band competitions. Her
daughter had parlayed her first
chair clarinet status in such an
excellent band into a college music
scholarship. This too, she said,
was a product of the
encouragement and guidance
provided by Darren Ulster.
Finally, Michelle Sanders' name
was called. The girl nervously
approached the podium and began.
"Hello. My name is Michelle
Sanders, and I used to play in the
band at Westfield High School,
but I graduated two years ago.
Thank you for letting me come
tonight to speak on behalf of Mr.
Ulster. There are three things I
want to say."
It was obvious to Louise that
Michelle had written down her
remarks and practiced saying
them over and over. Now realizing
how nervous she'd grown as she
waited her turn, she wished she'd
done the same.
"First, I want to say that I think
Mr. Ulster is a wonderful teacher.
He was friendly to all of the
students, and he always
encouraged us to do our best.
"Second, I want to say that as a
student who discovered in high
school that she was gay, I would
have liked very much to have had
someone like Mr. Ulster to talk to.
I have a number of gay friends at
college now, and all of us felt like
outsiders in our high schools
because there wasn't anyone
there to talk to about our
experiences. We didn't fit in, no
matter how hard we tried. One of
my friends at college even said
she tried to kill herself back then
because she felt so all alone. I
think the schools should do more
for all of the students, not just
the ones who are straight. They
already get all the breaks."
The young woman's words weren't
polished, but they were
nonetheless from the heart. Her
remarks held just a trace of that
youthful attitude of defiance that
Louise had come to appreciate
over the years.
"And third, I wanted to say that I
have an interest in how all of this
turns out because I am studying at
Slippery Rock State to become a
math teacher. I want to teach
because I love working with
numbers, and because a math
teacher inspired me. But I also
want to be able to be who and
what I am, without worrying that I
can be fired just because I
happen to be gay.
"That's all I have to say, and
thank you very much for listening."
Michelle came back to her chair as
several of the observers clapped.
Her mother and father both stood
and hugged her briefly before
sitting back down. Louise leaned
over and patted her arm as Ted
Meyer made his way to the
podium.
"Good evening, Mr.
Superintendent, Chairman, and
board members. I'm Ted Meyer,
the principal at Westfield High
School. With your permission, I'd
like to yield my minutes on the
floor to Miss Louise Stevens, a
former teacher of mine who
retired two years ago. Since
you're new to this area, Mr.
Superintendent, I'd like to point
out that Miss Stevens was the
1979 and 1991 Teacher of the
Year in Westmoreland County. The
best part of my job is leading
dedicated teachers like Louise
Stevens and Darren Ulster."
Louise took her place at the
podium as her former boss turned
on the slide projector. Behind her,
a large picture of Rhonda
Markosky directing the high
school band graced the screen.
"Thank you, Mr. Meyer. Mr.
Superintendent, Chairman Sumter
- nice to see you again - and board
members, hello and thank you for
hearing me tonight.
"I'd like to tell you a little about
the woman in the picture. She was
Rhonda Markosky, and she held
the position of band director at
Westfield for 32 years. As many
of you know, Miss Markosky died
in 1998, at the front of her band
room doing what she loved most.
Mrs. Mowrey, you were in Miss
Markosky's band, were you not?"
The board member nodded,
smiling at the high school memory.
"I could tell you about the
thousands of students she
inspired over the years, and the
hundreds of awards she garnered
for the school. But here was one
of our proudest moments at
Westfield."
Ted Meyer changed the screen to
a front-page headline from the
local newspaper: Westfield's
Markosky named Pennsylvania
State Teacher of the Year.
"That was in 1986. Rhonda
Markosky is the only
Westmoreland County teacher to
win that state honor, so I don't
have to say anymore about what
kind of teacher she was." She
nodded toward Meyer, who
changed to the final slide, a
yearbook picture of the two
teachers side by side, bundled up
warmly as they cheered their
football team.
"What I would like to tell you is
that Rhonda Markosky was gay. I
know that because she was my
partner for 31 years. Throughout
our years as teachers here, we
kept that private, afraid that it
might somehow impact our jobs.
Obviously, we had good reason to
feel that way. Now that I've
retired, I don't have to hide from
prejudices or from unfounded
fears. I can stand here now and
speak on behalf of the hundreds
of staff, teachers and
administrators in the
Westmoreland County school
system who are gay but who are
afraid to come forward. I implore
you to let them do their jobs
without risk of job discrimination.
Let them make their contributions
to the education of your children
as Rhonda Markosky did; and as
Darren Ulster still does.
"And when you resolve this matter
of one band director, I ask you to
consider making it part of your
county-wide policy to make
discrimination against gays a thing
of the past, as much of the
country has already done. Take
this opportunity to teach the
children of this county that no one
deserves to be thrown away. You
and the students will be better for
it.
"Thank you."
The proud woman stepped down
amidst sporadic applause that
erupted into a sustained chorus of
cheers. Red-faced, she walked
with Meyer back to their seats,
where Michelle sat with tears
streaming down her face.
"I'm sorry I never told you,
Michelle," Louise whispered,
misreading the emotion as
betrayal.
"It's okay, Miss Stevens. I
understand. It's just… I'm so
proud of you for saying all of
that."
You were my inspiration this time."
When the board returned to
chambers to discuss the issues
and vote on the personnel moves,
Louise was inundated with a steady
stream of people offering their
congratulations and support. One
was Darren Ulster.
"Thank you, Lou. It means the
world to me that you came all this
way to speak up for me like you
did. I am so honored to have your
support, and I'd give my right arm
to be half the teacher Rhonda
Markosky was."
"You're a great teacher in your
own right, Darren. You have such a
bright future, and I only hope you
get to play it out. If not here, you
have to find another place. You
just can't waste that talent and
enthusiasm."
When the throngs of people had
come and gone, Louise found
herself sitting alone with a still-
crying Michelle Sanders.
"Are you going to do that all
night?" she teased.
Michelle chuckled and blew her
nose. "No, I hope not. But
everything you said was so sweet.
And
it just breaks my heart that
Miss Markosky is gone and now
you're all alone."
Louise put her long arm around the
young woman's shoulder. "It broke
my heart to lose her, Michelle, and
I was sad for a long time. But I'm
not alone anymore."
"You're not?"
"No. I met someone new when I
moved to Florida, and I was lucky
enough to fall in love again."
Michelle warmed at the idea of
her favorite teacher and friend
having someone to love. "Well, I
hope I get to meet her the next
time I go see my grandmother,"
she stated hopefully.
"You already have."
The girl thought for a moment
before her eyes grew wide with
surprise. "Marty Beck, from the
golf course?"
"That's right," Louise answered
grinning.
"Awwww, Marty's so cute!"
Louise laughed aloud. "Yes, she
certainly is. And the next time you
come down, the three of us will
spend some time together. I think
you and Marty will like each other
a lot."
Louise folded the newspaper over
to follow the story from the front
page to its jump on page nine. It
was here she was quoted.
"Of course I'm disappointed. I'm
glad to know that the vote was
close, though. It gives me hope
that one or two forward thinking
people could change the face of
this school board at the next
election and this injustice can be
rectified. I look to the younger
generations to take the lead in
that, either through their parents
or for those who are old enough,
by exercising their right to vote.
I've always had faith that the
spirit of our youth would lead us
all to a better way of life, to a
world where we'd celebrate our
differences rather than try to
insulate ourselves from them."
The retired woman was exhausted.
The late decision by the board to
uphold the superintendent's
recommendation had left her
feeling drained and defeated; she
struggled to sleep, and was now
fighting the discomfort of the
cramped airplane seat.
Despite her failure to sway the
board's opinion, Louise Stevens
felt a liberation of spirit she had
never known. Rhonda would have
been so proud to have seen her
stand before all of those parents,
administrators, and board
members, declaring their love with
confidence and dignity. Her only
regret was that they hadn't both
done it sooner, daring anyone to
challenge their right to do the job
they loved.
Marty would have been proud of
her too. Ah, Marty! After just one