Yæmis

Yæmis was in trouble, again, kind of. For an eleven year old girl in year seven she got into a lot of trouble, kind of.

“This must he the fifth time you have been sent to see me this week,” the headteacher said.

Yæmis smiled and said, “The sixth, and it’s only Wednesday lunchtime, so averaging it out before school’s end on Friday I’ll be seeing you another six times.”

“I know you have never started any of the incidents, and I have given the staff involved in the discriminatory remarks you objected to a further warning. Some of them will have to be suspended pending a Local Education Authority investigation the next time they make such remarks, and I’m afraid that will result in them not only losing their jobs but being unable to teach anywhere again. It worries me that I shall have to be interviewing for so many staff at such short notice. It worries me even more that I shall have to run the school till next September using so many supply teachers. Since you came here at the beginning of this academic year to comply with the law I have had to expel seventeen pupils, all of whom were prosecuted by the police for hate crimes of violence against you and all of whom you gave extended holidays to in various hospitals. Frankly I’m at a loss as to know what to do. The governors say it’s my problem because they have no idea how to deal with this matter either. I have no intention of punishing you for matters that you can in no way be said to be responsible for nor even be accused of escalating. Your ability to defend yourself seems to be no deterrent to the intolerant. Have you any ideas?”

The small, pretty, highly intelligent, and awesomely able, confident, eleven year old girl in front of her who was so good at terminating physical confrontations against serious odds, smiled and said, “The bigoted idiots are all from the Four Roads Ends area and are all the children of hard line Presbyterian parents, so, one, I suggest you invite the local Catholic church to send a priest down to say a mass once a week in stead of holding an assembly, just make attendance voluntary. To avoid any accusations of bias, make the Presbyterian church a similar offer. The Catholics will be happy to, but when the Presbyterians hear that they will pour vitriol on the whole idea. Two, put out a press release saying that the school welcomes LGBT+ pupils of all persuasions and will not tolerate any discrimination. You could say you welcome applications from LGBT+ teachers too. There must be no suggestion of positive discrimination, merely that you wish the best teachers for the jobs and such matters do not affect a teacher’s ability to teach. The Presbyterian parents will all withdraw their children, problem solved, and most of the bigots on the staff will hand their notice in before half term too.”

Mrs Geraldson nodded and wide eyed said, “Very clever. Completely within the law, in fact making an issue of the fact that the school complies with the law. That would doubtless replace the difficult pupils with ones grateful to be here, and I can certainly cope with the idea of a more tolerant staff who wish to teach rather than create difficulties for the school, staff and pupils alike. Thank you. Since the governors have said it’s my problem I’ll draught the press releases and job advertisements immediately. I would imagine I should be able to recruit some experienced LGBT+ teachers seeking jobs almost immediately. Thank you, Yæmis. How did you learn so much about people at your age?”

“Before I was adopted by my foster parents, my survival in the orphanage [US group home] and on the streets depended on knowing a lot about how people think, react and behave in all sorts of situations. I’ll have a word with Father Donovan for you if you like. He’s a nice man and he hears my confession without judging me for what is outside my control.”

“You’re a Catholic‽” Mrs Geraldson gasped in surprise.

“Yes. You too never saw anything beyond me being trans did you?”