"Two Dads": The Story of a Parent-Teacher Conference

One get-to-know-you activity that I do at the beginning of each semester involves standing in front of the class and sharing a few things about yourself. (Whatever, okay? It works.)

Richard Beeler had just finished and was in a hurry to return to his seat. I quickly asked him, "Richard, can you add one interesting fact about your family?"

"I have two dads," he said without hesitation.

I thought that was interesting. I didn't know of any other gay parents at this school. Or perhaps he meant that his mother remarried, and he called his stepfather dad also. I noticed at mid-quarter that one of Richard's parents had signed up for parent-teacher conferences. It read only "Mr. Beeler."

When Mr. Beeler came in, I was surprised to see a lovely lady of his same age accompanying him. Either Richard's father had remarried also, or Richard's other father was identifying himself now as a woman. I proceeded without missing a beat, sure that all would "fall pat," but looking discreetly, nevertheless, for an Adam's apple.

Our conversation revealed that they had two other children. They spoke about their family as though there were no second-marriage- or sex-change-type of complications. And upon my own study, the aforementioned Richard did look a good deal like the two people sitting before me. It became quite clear that this couple had indeed biologically parented Richard, and very likely his siblings, with all their talk of inherited traits. I finally had to breech the subject: "Mr. and Mrs. Beeler, I hope you find this amusing, but Richard mentioned at the beginning of the semester, during a get-to-know-you game, that he had two dads."

They both burst into surprised and mirthful laughter. They had no idea why their son would say that, but admitted that Richard was terribly quick-witted, and often unexpected; they continued to laugh as they explained all this. Upon their departure, I shook hands with first Mr. Beeler, then, when I got to Mrs. Beeler, she made an effort at a deep, masculine voice, "Thank you for your time, Ms. McKalips," and shook my hand firmly. More laughter.