Unlike other members of staff, I was urged not to discuss my home life with students. How can we tackle homophobia when we refuse to be honest with young people?

“Sir, are you gay?”

“Yes!” screams the voice in my head. But coming out to students isn’t as simple as it should be.

Within a week of starting my newly qualified teacher (NQT) year, I’d been asked about my sexuality three times by various students. My responses were always fleeting, “that’s irrelevant right now” or “what has that got to do with Frankenstein?”. I wasn’t worried about them knowing, but I was new to the school and new to teaching. I wanted to be open, but didn’t know how that would be received.

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I’d soon had enough of dodging the question and asked my NQT mentor for advice. He was a little surprised to learn I was gay and suggested the students might just be asking because I was new and they were nosy. I was reassured that there was no official school policy. “From a behaviour management perspective, it might not be the smartest move,” he said. He was worried I might be putting myself in a vulnerable position with the students, but neither of us realised the bigger issue would be the position I was putting myself in with my employers.

My sexuality didn’t come up again until near the end of term when some students saw me out and about with my boyfriend. It was nothing over the top, we were holding hands outside a shop when I heard the all too familiar: “Hi sir!”

The next day in school, a student asked if it was my boyfriend who I had been seen with. I said yes, and quickly directed the student to the starter activity. Their response? A vague, “alright, let me just find my pen”. I was flooded with an awkward feeling of both relief and satisfaction: they didn’t care, but I knew they wouldn’t.

A week or so later, I was called into a meeting with senior management. I was mildly concerned, but concluded they were probably just checking how I was doing. I was wrong. The meeting started with: “I want to have a chat with you about a discussion you’ve had with one of your classes.” A variety of class conversations rolled through my head – a recent debate about Wuthering Heights had got a little heated.

We, as teachers, should be sending the message to students that being gay doesn’t make you different.

“You’ve revealed to them that you’re gay.” They wanted to know what had happened in detail: what the students had asked; how I had responded; any further discussions. “They had no right to ask you that question,” was the line that was repeated a number of times and “you don’t have to tell them”. I left the meeting bemused but under the impression that this was designed to protect me.

A week later I had another meeting with a more senior manager. I was “strongly urged” not to discuss my sexuality or any matter of my private life with students. I tried to argue my case: many teachers talk about their lives outside of school with students – some form tutors are encouraged to do so to build a relationship with their group. What’s more, for students questioning their sexuality, it can be reassuring to have an adult sending out the message that it’s OK. I began to question whether the issue was that I’d been asked or that I’d answered – and whether a similar meeting would be happening if I’d been seen with a woman.

My answer came when the school newspaper was published, with the headteacher reflecting on the term and commenting on how she was looking forward to a relaxing holiday with her husband and children. There was a double-standard and it angered me, not just because it had put me in a difficult position professionally – I couldn’t be who I wanted to be in the classroom – but because we, as teachers, should be sending the message to students that being gay doesn’t make you different.

Later in the year, I was teaching Of Mice and Men to my year 9s and we discussed the relationship between Lennie and George. “Do you reckon they’re gay?” piped up one of my more challenging boys. I panicked.

“Wouldn’t matter if they were,” another student chimed in. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Mrs French teacher is gay and she’s well ashamed of it,” another piped up.

I don’t want my students to think I am ashamed of my sexuality

I don’t want my students to think I am ashamed of my sexuality. As a student, I spent every day in school surrounded by lads who threw “gay” around as an insult and mates who talked about which girls they fancied. I couldn’t identify with any of this and it was hard. I was in denial for a long time because I identified “gay” with “wrong”. If there’d been an adult there who was trusted and respected by me and my peers, and who was gay, it would have made all the difference to me.

As teachers we’re encouraged to tackle homophobia, but how can we do that when schools are so afraid of openness about homosexuality? I couldn’t understand why the leadership in my school was so fearful of students knowing I was gay. The kids didn’t care and, as nobody had called in, it seemed their parents didn’t care either.

I was told by one member of senior leadership that “nobody else needs to know this has happened” – as though they thought I was worried people would find out. Actually, I wasn’t bothered about other staff in school knowing I’d come out to a class. I am an openly gay teacher and there’s nothing wrong with that.

I found another job and handed in a polite resignation letter. I learned a lot in my first year and I still love teaching, but realising that it’s not always OK to be gay was a big disappointment. It pains me that some school leaders are sending the wrong message to staff and students.

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