When the alarm blares at 6 AM I'm trapped under a cement blanket. I don't move until Tiffany kicks me. "We went to bed at, like, nine last night. There's no way you should be this tired. Let's go."

Morning people can be so annoying sometimes. Good thing I love her.

I go through my routine lost in a fog. There is no amount of coffee to cure this, but I'll be damned if I'm not going to try. I start throwing back shots of Nespresso faster than a frat boy drinking Jagermeister. By the time I get to work my thoughts are jumpy and my hands have tremors. This is going to be a great day.

After parking, I walk through the side entrance and make my way down the hall, turning into the main office suit. The secretary isn't there yet, but I pass Ms. Reid's door and wave good morning before going into my work space. Jessica is already at her desk, laptop open, and her large iced coffee placed carefully on a napkin. She's in the middle of pulling her dark hair up into a ponytail as I walk in. "Oh, hi, Xander. Happy Friday."

"TGIF." I plop down on my desk chair. "Doing anything for Labor Day?"

"Just some last-minute back-to-school shopping with the boys. I swear Ricky grew four inches just in the last month, so he basically needs a whole new wardrobe. Joaquin is fine with hand-me-downs, thankfully, but my boys destroy shoes, you know? And everything has to be Minecraft these days. But, nothing too exciting. Summer is officially over." She pouts.

"Well, technically fall starts on the 23rd this year." My brain feels so wired that I can't even laugh at my own dumb joke. "Sorry, I didn't sleep well last night."

"Having student stress dreams already?"

"Yeah. August feels like one long Sunday, you know?" I lean over and take out my own laptop and plug it in.

"Oh, I know the feeling. But hey, don't get too comfortable there." She takes a sip from her coffee. "Our sensitivity training starts in the cafeteria in ten minutes."

Like I could forget.

We make our way down together. The tables are all set up and several teachers have already arrived. They cluster in grade-level groups, smiling, laughing, complimenting each other's tans. Jessica and I take a seat at one of the tables towards the front, sitting next to Ms. Reid. As content specialists we are technically on the leadership team, so as much as I would like to, there's no hiding in the back.

The facilitator is making her way around the room, handing out name tags and markers. "Preferred name and pronouns," she instructs, pointing to her own example: Danielle; She/Her.

She's a tall, sturdy woman with tight blonde curls and a touch too much makeup. But as I watch her approach me I take note of her dainty hands and small shoes. So, as much as her wide shoulders indicate she might be trans, other physical features say otherwise. Is it weird that I try to read everyone like this?

"What do you mean preferred pronouns? I think mine are pretty obvious," Steve chortles loudly across the room, shaking me from my thoughts.

"Oh, here we go," I mumble towards Jessica.

"He's harmless." Is she chiding me? She didn't think he was so harmless last year when he was railing against immigration and talking about caravans of illegals, but I bite my tongue. Did I ever tell Steve that his comments were racist and inappropriate? No. I just rolled my eyes. I guess I wasn't a very strong ally then, and I knew that she is Mexican-American. She doesn't even know that I am trans, so what should I expect?

I notice that Ms. Reid twitches her eyebrows and takes a deep breath, but I can't tell if this slight hint of irritation is directed at me, Steve, or something else entirely. Even after five years as our principal I still find Ms. Reid - and, yes, it's always "Ms. Reid" and never "Melissa" - to be completely unreadable.

As everyone settles and the presenter switches on the projector, Steve thankfully takes a seat at one of the tables towards the back. Knowing him, he'll have some smartass thing to say every few slides, and I just don't have the patience for that shit right now.

The first slide is a general introduction. Danielle ackowledges that we will have a transgender student attending our school next year. "But, you had a transgender student attending you school last year also. You just didn't know it. There might be other students who are also struggling with and exploring gender identity. So, even if you don't work with Blake, it is all of your responsibilities to make this school a safe and inclusive environment." She's good. I like her.

A few slides later is titled "Genderbread Person." It shows a colorful outline of a traditional gingerbread man, but it has a brain labeled "identity", a heart labeled "attraction", a crotch labeled "sex", and a squiggly line all around it labeled "expression".

Then, she refers to an example. "This is a Genderbread Person who represents me. 'Gender identity' is how someone sees themselves, and because I identify as a woman, I have labeled my brain as female. That is my internal sense of self. If I was making an example for someone else, their identity could be male, or, somewhere in between. One term used for that nonbinary. And, along that spectrum there can be people who identify as somewhat male or somewhat female. Other people identify as agender, or, not having any gender."

I wonder what the difference is between nonbinary and agender, but I don't dare raise my hand. Something to Google later, I guess. Turns out that I've been out of the community a long time and no longer understand the jargon.

Danielle continues uninterrupted, "Gender identity is different from sexual orientation." She gestures towards the heart symbol on the genderbread person. "Gender identity is about how you see yourself. Sexuality is who you are romantically attracted to. Or, not attracted to. Yes? Good?" A few people give thumbs up or nod. "Ok, I am cisgender - that means that my biological sex and gender identity align - so, here," she points between the cookie-outline's legs, "I have also written female. Biological, or, physical sex is the term we use when referring to a person's chromosones, hormones, or reproductive organs. This also falls along a spectrum."

"I'm sorry, what? Could you explain that more?" one of the second grade teachers calls out.

"Oh, yes, of course! One in a hundred people born have bodies that differ either chromosomally or physiologically from a medically standard definition of 'male' or 'female'. There are over a dozen conditions that can be classified as intersex. Our biology is more diverse than people realize. Did that answer your question?"

The teacher nods and thankfully no one asks about hermaphrodites or says anything inappropriate, so Danielle continues. "Gender expression encompasses all the ways that a person lives their gender. This is highly influenced by society and what is currently deemed feminine, masculine, or androgenous. We express our gender through clothes, activities, and even the roles we take on within families or our careers. My expression isn't always this straight-forward. Right now," she gestures at her outfit, "I am presenting quite feminine by modern American standards. Can anyone name what about my presentation seems feminine to you?"

"Heels," someone shouts.

"Yes, I put on my nice heels for you guys! Apparently uncomfortable footwear is very feminine. Anything else?"

"Make-up," Jessica adds from her seat next to me.

Danielle nods, "Yes, I'm wearing make-up. Anything else?"

"Love those earrings!" someone compliments.

"Thank you! Yes, look at these fantastic earrings! A gift from my daughter. See? You guys are experts on detecting gender expression. But sometimes I don't dress up like this. There are days where I wear clothes that might be considered more masculine. Work boots, for instance. Sturdy jeans. A baseball hat. You get the picture. That doesn't make me any less of a woman, but, it might make me appear less feminine."

As Danielle educates my colleagues on the diversity of human experiences with gender, sexulity, and expression, my eyes wander. People seem to be engaged and taking her seriously. I can feel myself start to relax.As Danielle educates my colleagues on the diversity of human experiences with gender, sexulity, and expression, my eyes wander. People seem to be nodding along and being serious. No one yells out about hermaphrodites or says anything inappropriate. She is a strong facilitator.

Once her spiel is done she directs our attention to stacks of blank outlines on our tables, and asks us to make our own genderbread person. Before I even have time to form a snarky thought, Danielle adds, "It doesn't have to represent you specifically. This is an exercise to help you better understand how multifaceted identities can be."

"Can I just make mine a normal person?" Steve shouts out.

What the fuck, Steve. Seriously?

"What's 'normal', Steve?" I blurt it out defensively, causing several of my colleagues' heads to swivel in my direction. Jessica looks at me strangely. Ms. Reid's expression stays still, as usual. My over-caffeinated and sleep-deprived filters have failed.

Danielle steps in. "You can make your genderbread person anyway that you want. Not everyone has the same definition of normal. That's one thing that I hope you will take away from today's presentation."

I excuse myself to get some water.

A few minutes later, when I'm still standing by the water fountain, I hear the clicking of heels on linoleum. I look up and see Danielle walking towards me. "Figured I would take this opportunity to refill my bottle." She smiles as she unscrews the cap. "Are you okay?"

"Didn't sleep last night."

"Hmm," she raises her eyebrows.

I can tell that this stranger doesn't quite believe me and it makes me uneasy. "I, uh, have friends who are trans." It might be an exaggeration –former acquaintances might be a better description– but it's not a lie. "So, Steve's comment just hit me weird."

"Yeah, I could tell." She offers a closed-lip smile, one that drips with unspoken sympathy. "You know, the Superintendent really is dedicated to making this school system a safe space for everyone."

"Well, that's reassuring. For Blake." I nod. "But I can't lie. I am worried for him. It's great that we're having this training and all, but, well, you've heard some of the comments."

"And I also know that the best weapon against ignorance is knowledge." Her water bottle is filled and she tightens the cap. "See you back in there?"

"I'm right behind you." I follow, a bit of a shuffle in my step.

When I get back to my seat, Jessica asks, "What's gotten into you?"

"I don't know. Just not feeling like my normal self." I stare down at my blank genderbread person. Is this the type of knowledge that will combat Steve's ignorance? And everybody else's? How much safer will our school really be for Blake after a single two-hour training? Danielle seemed confident. Maybe I should be, too. But I'm not. Not yet.