I didn’t know Mr. G.  In fact, had never heard of him until I ran across his obituary.  But what a great guy and a genuine hero.  It wasn’t so easy in 1985 to imagine being a teacher for queer kids – which is predominantly how they were thought of.  It must not have been easy in the classroom, either.  So much trauma would have produced lots of obstreperous behavior, reinforcing in a way the idea that the kids were “not normal.”  There are many more Mr. Gs among us, though not near enough, and they go without much appreciation.  It is in large degree to their work and caring, alongside the voluntary and often dangerous “coming out” by gay men and women that has made acceptance of homosexuality such a natural part of the younger generations these past years.  Toleration and acceptance of what was once abhorrent does not just happen.  It is nurtured and grown by brave men and women like Mr. G.

“Among Mr. G.’s first students back in 1985 were runaways who had been sleeping in a shed down by the docks in Lower Manhattan where the city stored mountains of road salt.

One boy had hitchhiked from Ohio after eight teenagers dragged him into a bathroom at school, bashed his head against a toilet and burned his arm with a cigarette lighter.

Another boy, from New York City, had been abused by his parents after a teacher told them he was “acting like a faggot.” He was kept at home for a year — chained to a radiator, beaten and taken by his father to 42nd Street and forced to have sex with men for money. His father went to prison.

Mr. G. — Hero

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