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Dyke vs. Mike

Four teenage girls sit at tables outside the Starbucks across from the University of Miami, sipping coffee and pouring out a tale of woe. The subject of the girls' angst is Mike Thompson, a substitute teacher at Palmetto High School in Pinecrest who is, in their view, the Sen. Rick...
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Four teenage girls sit at tables outside the Starbucks across from the University of Miami, sipping coffee and pouring out a tale of woe. The subject of the girls' angst is Mike Thompson, a substitute teacher at Palmetto High School in Pinecrest who is, in their view, the Sen. Rick Santorum of substitute teachers.

Thompson, a well-known Miami conservative activist and former local radio and television host, made the mistake of honestly answering questions students posed to him about his views on homosexuality. In essence Thompson thinks America's schools have been overtaken by liberal propaganda that encourages kids' acceptance of "the homosexual death-style," as he caustically put it in a book he wrote last year and an op-ed piece he provided for the school's newspaper this past May. (According to his book, the average gay male is lucky to live past age 40, while lesbians suffer from higher rates of alcoholism, suicide, and breast cancer than their penis-loving compatriots.)

The op-ed was the breaking point for the girls (and some boys), all members of Palmetto High's Gay-Straight Alliance (GSA), coming on top of a February 2003 school newspaper story that quoted Thompson's views of GSA and its supposedly subversive agenda. The story, by Panther editor Laura Glickman, was about the ACLU suing a high school in Kentucky that had banned the GSA there. Glickman included a quote from Thompson's book (an excerpt of which he says he gave her and others when solicited), denouncing GSAs as a propaganda tool "designed to recruit rootless kids into homosexuality." That article sparked a minor controversy, with a student letter-writer and the paper's editorial writer decrying Thompson's views (although the editorialist defended his right to hold them). But the budding revolutionaries in the Palmetto GSA were appalled anyway and mounted a campaign to oust him from the school, where he's taught as a substitute for the past four years. "At first we just wanted him out," explains Kristen Busold. "Then we cooled off and just went for getting him sensitivity training." (Their efforts ended with the school year.)

At the Starbucks, the tall, slender Busold sips an overdressed cappuccino from a paper cup, pale brown hair pulled back in a precise ponytail. Next to her is Danielle Traveria, with long dark hair, intense brown eyes, and the resolute manner of a future CEO. Fiery Natalie Guillén, with her silver nose stud, hippie skirt, and bodice, is a study in youthful rebellion. And then there's her girlfriend Sara Kaplan, a petite girl with delicate bone structure and rectangular glasses. As president of the GSA, Sara is actually the ringleader, but lets the others do most of the talking.

The students explain that Thompson's comments had the effect of encouraging an increase in the anti-gay attitudes already prevalent at their high school. "People were going, 'Oh it's so cool he said this,'" recalls Danielle, who emphasizes that she, like most of the twenty or so GSA members, is straight. "There was a surge in harassment. It was happening in our school to people we knew. Even straight guys were getting called fags."

The GSA responded on several fronts. They put up numerous flyers around school with educational statistics about gay youth. They began a (eventually unsuccessful) petition to ask the school not to use him anymore. They sought advice from Project Yes, a local advisory organization for gay and bisexual kids.

They talked to the principal, Janet Hupp, who pointed out that Thompson could hardly be fired for his private views. Thompson himself claims that he doesn't sermonize in the classroom. "I'm very professional," he argues. "I don't in a classroom discuss any personal or political beliefs. If it's part of the course, I may get into it. I don't go out of my way to promote my own personal agenda." Hupp was on vacation at press time, but assistant principal Carl Manzelli says that the situation got "blown out of proportion." He feels the school has been sensitive to the students' concerns. "It was a very unfair situation," he offers. "One of the kids approached him for information, he gave it to them, and then it all hit the fan."

Natalie remembers that her friend Kiki also confronted Thompson during an FCAT test in the auditorium. "Kiki went up to him and said, 'I'm an African-American homosexual,' and started asking him questions why he thought the way he did. He said that to defend having sex with homosexuals is to defend having sex with babies, or dogs. I couldn't believe it."

Thompson remembers the conversation, although somewhat differently. "She said she'd been a homosexual since the age of four. She said, 'Jesus didn't say anything about homosexuality.' I said there are many things Jesus didn't specifically comment on. He didn't talk about parents having sex with their children or men beating their wives. He doesn't talk about the killing of babies, or about sex with animals. He did come out in support of marriage, which is a man and a woman. He did speak of the end times and spoke about Sodom and its practitioners being among the destroyed." Thompson pauses. "That didn't mean I was comparing homosexuality with these things," he clarifies. "I was just making the point."

Thompson, who is proud of his work with singer Anita Bryant in 1977 to repeal the county's gay-rights ordinance, says the problem here is that teenagers are so literal-minded and emotional about things that it's difficult to have an intelligent argument with them about substantive issues without it devolving into a petty quarrel. "I have one view of homosexuality and they have another," he opines. "They have a right to their view and I have mine. It's that simple."

At last the students decided that educating their classmates was the best way to fight Thompson. They designed a pro-tolerance program composed of several skits and testimonials from gay and straight students. They performed it for several hundred students a week before the prom. A videotape of the program opens with Danielle standing in the spotlight in the school auditorium in a white dress and strappy shoes. "You've probably heard we're a bunch of dykes with a chip on our shoulder, trying to cause problems," she intones into a microphone. She pauses to sweep the room with her intense brown eyes. "If homosexuality is a disease, then why haven't I caught it? I certainly don't need to consider someone's sexuality to show me what kind of human being they are. The point of GSA is to spread tolerance and appreciation for all human life."

Later Sara swaggers out in a sundress, mike in hand, all her natural shyness gone. "Let me get this out in the open," she begins dryly. "I have a girlfriend. Yes, I'm a lesbian. And no, you cannot have a tape. What other question do I get asked when people find out about my sexuality? Who's the man? I say, 'What man? I'm a les-bian. That's the point.'"

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