I’m a Trans Substitute Teacher in Florida. It’s Worse than You Think.
A substitute teacher in Florida writes about the ways anti-LGBTQ+ legislation and the moral panic over trans youth is negatively impacting teachers and students alike.
by Sarah Khan
There’s been a constant attack on both queer youth and queer teachers in schools in red states in the past several years. Almost all of it is from people outside of the school system. I want to give an inside look into what it is really like in Florida’s public schools. Hi, my name is Kahn, and I’m a (closeted) trans woman substitute teacher in North Florida. I’ve been teaching for two years and am currently in a program to get my full time teaching certificate. I love history and wish to instill a love of history into young people. Sadly, given Florida’s political climate, this is harder than ever.
Being a substitute gives an unique experience compared to a regular teacher. I work for the district, so I’ve been to a wide variety of schools, grade levels, and classes. I’ve gotten to see many different teaching styles, school environments, and student populations. It also means I get to pick and choose what days I am scheduled to work. It gives me a better understanding of problems all schools here face. However, because I’m not employed directly by the district and rather subcontracted out to a company that manages all substitutes, I don’t have any union representation. This means terrible pay and terrible benefits. My pay is about 75% of what I could get in a county that has non-privatized substitutes. My benefits include chances to win a Turkey dinner if I worked 15 days in November. I work a second job to make ends meet.
A sub near me got fired recently for taking a video of empty bookshelves where books were pulled per the new book ban laws. Florida is a “Right-to-work” state with only about 60 percent of teachers paying dues. That’s actually much higher than most jobs here in the state, where union power is all but nonexistent. This is bad for both teachers and students. Millions of dollars that could go to school supplies that are desperately needed are instead funneled to charter schools, who waste the money on things like tickets to Disney World. “At-will” employment means teachers that speak out about book bannings have fewer protections to their employment. I contacted my HR department about policy around LGBTQ+ topics and only got told they’d “look into it” and that “nobody was trying to oppress” me, only “some parents just don’t want to hear about that kind of stuff.”
Speaking of LGBTQ+ issues: Trans kids are not an epidemic nor have they exploded in population. When I was a senior in high school here in 2017, we had a couple trans kids and a handful of queer kids in my school of several thousand. Today that population in high schools I teach is about 5 trans kids and a dozen openly queer kids per a couple thousand students. In the middle schools it’s way lower. I’ve only met one queer middle schooler in 2 years. These kids aren’t popular or revered either. Trans boys mostly wear hoodies and sit in the back of class. They talk about how their parents fight with them over binders and are in classes like art, theater, or choir. If they’re lucky, they’re mostly ignored. Trans girls are rarer, for a very obvious reason. Kids, especially boys, are mean. If you’re a gender nonconforming boy or a trans girl they will eat you alive. I’ve overheard boys talking about jumping someone they were flirting with because they thought she was trans. Anyone that is out and trans femme is ostracized and faces constant harassment from their families and peers. Again, art, choir, and theater classes are the few safe spaces they are accepted. Bullying still remains a huge issue.
One of Florida’s new laws prohibits the use of nicknames not on one’s birth certificate in school. To quote a teacher I subbed in a long term position for, it is “fucking stupid”. It’s another piece of paperwork that annoys parents, confuses substitutes, and wastes time. It’s targeted at trans students but literally anyone with a nickname has to have a permission slip signed in order to be called that name. It appears in parentheses on attendance printouts. Does a kid want to be called “Billy” instead of “William” on roll? Does he care? Its only purpose is to force trans kids who have substitutes to walk up and tell us “hey, can you not say my name on roll?” That is the single substantive difference I’ve seen come up from this law, besides new paperwork.
A lot of the high school experience I had and enjoyed in Florida has been made illegal by the state. I realized I was gay and trans in college, but I was most certainly gender nonconforming during high school. I was a theater and band kid. My sophomore year my school did Hairspray as our school play. It has a role that is traditionally played as a man in drag. My school followed that tradition. That is now illegal. It was explicitly asked if Rocky Horror Picture show and Hairspray would be banned under the new youth drag ban law. The legislature said yes.
In band, I was a member of the color guard, the traditionally female performers that spin flags while the band plays. For shows, we had to do hair and makeup. To make life easier, since I was the only “guy” there, the rest of the guard asked me to get prepared in the girls dressing room so they could do my hair and makeup in there. I was invited in and that was considered acceptable. I was just “one of the gals”. This is also now illegal under new bathroom and changing room laws in schools. It’s why these laws are so frustrating: they go beyond attacking trans students and make everyone’s lives harder.
What’s it like for educators that are queer? I am scared and tired. I don’t feel comfortable coming out to my colleagues because I feel I might get fired. I don’t dress femme at all in schools because of the environment. It hurts seeing kinds struggle and feeling unable to help and show them that there are adults just like them too. Sometimes I’ll tell kids I have a boyfriend if I see they are facing discrimination because of who they are, but even that is technically illegal. A teacher can proudly display on their desk pictures of their straight family. I can’t even mention my boyfriend without potentially running afoul of the law. It makes me question why I do this sometimes. I work long hours for shit pay and complete disrespect from the school board. I’ve had to try to teach a 6th grader who only spoke Haitian-creole how to divide fractions using google translate. I’ve had to comfort a child who was afraid CPS would take them away because they didn’t want to go on anti-psychotic medication. I’ve had kids who wished they learned more queer history. I’ve had kids that were alcoholics in middle school. I’ve tried to help all these kids find success. Yet, because of who I am, the state treats me like a threat. A criminal.
I’m reminded of the title of Eddie Byirt’s memoir, “I Love America, But America Don't Love Me.” I love this state, it’s the only home I’ve ever known. But Florida doesn’t love me. I guarantee I know more about Florida history than Education Commissioner Manny Diaz or Governor Ron DeSantis, but my love for this state’s history means nothing to them. They view schools as pawns for their political power. They don’t care about the students like the teachers do. They literally don’t want to feed these children! I’ve been considering moving for a while to be closer to my boyfriend and escape this hellstate, but I know I’d feel guilty about leaving kids behind. It’s an impossible situation. Teachers shouldn’t have to go through this. Kids shouldn’t have to go through this. My only solace is knowing I have and will continue to fight for a better future for education. That’s the only thing keeping me going right now.
Sarah Khan is a trans woman and substitute teacher living in Florida. She can be found on Bluesky under @kaanfight.bsky.social.