CHAPTER 16
KENDRICK
Icould lie to myself and say that following the path Brevan takes with the kids from tóreargleei University is happenstance, but that would be a lie. I keep him in my sight as we wind through the cold campus.
Byndley and I are accompanied by Magnus, Bjarni, who I think must be Magnus’ Byndley, and Johanna. Johanna is one of the instructors here though I missed which department she’s a part of.
As we walk around, I muse about just how long it’s been since I’ve been on a different campus. Where is all the color? It’s whitewashed because of the snow, but everything appears very monotonous. I didn’t expect to miss the vibrant rainbows, murals, and flags.
By the time we get back to the conference room, there are more hot beverages, as well as snacks.
We’ve talked in general about the programs between the schools and how to grow their offerings, which is a little tricky because there are only so many young people enrolling in college in Iceland every year.
They have to stay competitive to stay in business.
It’s true, but I feel that adding some unique courses might attract others. Such was the case when they modified a curriculum so that their student Helgi could attend her dream college and still follow her dreams of the career she wanted.
There must be a compromise in that. They’d attract more applicants from other places in the world with a wider range of programs. That’s one of the goals, after all.
Make tóreargleei University universally appealing to attract more students, particularly queer students who need a safe place to study.
We listen to the conversations around us for a while as the students get warmed up.
Unsurprisingly, my attention has largely been on Brevan.
I might feel like a creep except that his eyes keep meeting mine too.
It leaves me feeling relatively assured that he’s experiencing at least a little bit of the same attraction I am.
Or he’s being polite. Maybe he is creeped out and doesn’t know how to respond otherwise. Oof.
The conversations naturally die down, and Magnus clears his throat. “I trust you’ve all had a good time getting to know each other?”
There’s not a single face without a smile. I sigh. Perfect. I love this.
“Good to hear,” Magnus says. “Tell me some highlights that you discussed.”
“Did you know they have their own social media app?” the man who had been walking with Brevan asked. He goes into an excited report on what’s in the app, though my students correct him a few times for clarity. It’s clear that Brevan gave him modified free rein of scrolling through the app.
The report receives eager questions. It’s clear that my students aren’t at all prepared for the level of excitement over the Pride Room. They glance at each other as they answer. Katai remains seated with a highly amused smile as she takes it in.
“Okay, we will definitely talk to Dr. Keller about the app,” Magnus says after a while. “What else?”
“They have some really great sports teams,” one of Magnus’ students volunteers. “They’re competitive in many sports and have a good reputation for sending their college athletes onto pro careers.”
“It’s difficult for us to support that kind of program since we don’t have many opportunities to compete locally,” Johanna says. “Especially not in a wide range of sports.”
“RDU has a retired pro hockey player for its ice hockey coach,” the same student says. “That’s so cool.”
“It is,” Magnus agrees. “We’ll see how the student body as a whole feels about putting extra time into expanding our sports program.”
“Not just the student body but the community as a whole. These students are already enrolled. We need the program to attract more students to make it sustainable,” Bjarni says.
“Yes, very true. Thank you. What else?” Magnus prompts.
“They have one of the topmost mathematical departments in the US,” another student volunteers.
There are many sidelong glances toward Zarek, which makes him raise an eyebrow.
“I might have bragged about you a little, Dr. Weaver,” Wendy says with a wide, innocent smile.
Zarek huffs his amusement.
“I think after listening to our RDU friends and what they went through before getting to RDU, and the kind of healing and safety RDU offers, I think maybe it’s important to see how we can replicate that here,” Helgi says.
“This isn’t just about advancing tóreargleei University, right?
It’s about becoming a sister school with RDU, and so much of that is their queernormative culture that gives those who need it a safe space to not only be themselves and find their strength, whether that be through healing and gaining confidence and finding their voice, or through a top-tier education.
We need to create an atmosphere like that, too,” Helgi says.
“I agree,” both students who were walking with Brevan say.
There’s agreement all around.
“Katai? Want to talk about recruitment and what you do?” I ask.
Katai inclines her head. “First, I will say that I keep a very close watch on our keyword input. I don’t want our school to be popping up on every college search, but very specific searches.
Searches that are important—such as accolades for our sports teams or our academics.
” She nods toward the student impressed with our hockey coach and then again at the one who was excited about our math department.
“But our priority isn’t recruiting everyone.
It’s recruiting young queer people who won’t necessarily receive the same education and fair treatment everywhere.
The statistics on bullying in college toward our queer youth don’t actually decline between high school years and college.
If nothing else, it shifts out of the range of childhood bullying into adult bullying, which can be worse.
Our unofficial motto—the motto I personally work by—is that all people deserve an education by the top people in their fields, regardless of what makes them different from what the world would consider normal. ”
“Normal is boring,” one of the Icelandic students says.
Katai smiles. “I agree. One of the programs I oversee, which is in constant growth, is making our community attainable for young queer people who don’t have the financial means to support a college education.
Whether that’s because they come from a poor family or because their family has disowned them for being queer, or maybe they’ve lost their family—whatever the case may be—the sad truth is the list is very long and we’re working as hard as we can to bring in as many as we can and offer them the opportunities that RDU has available. ”
“I like that,” Magnus says. “That’s one of the programs we’ve been talking about together.”
“Does Iceland have a large queer population in need?” Mercy asks, frowning.
“No,” Magnus says, shaking his head. “I mean for those outside of Iceland.”
“Do you use host families?” one of the Icelandic kids asks. “Is that how you accommodate an influx?”
“We don’t,” Katai says as she glances my way. “It’s been a discussion, but it’s not something we’ve actively worked toward yet.”
“Because you have enough dorms?” someone asks.
“Yes and no. It’s more than just accommodations and necessities.
It’s also about finances. In an ideal world, schooling at all levels would be free.
But the reality is, equipment costs money.
Staff costs money. Facilities upkeep costs money.
Even if we break down what it costs for a single student for a single day to attend RDU with no cost to themselves, that’s not a small number.
Then you have to think about how that student’s quality of life is with that bare minimum and how that would isolate them,” Zarek says.
“Maybe there should be a student sponsorship program.”
“We do have something like that. It’s a scholarship program. When we send out donor letters, there are options for which departments they’d like their contribution to help fund, as well as an option for keeping it open to the school’s discretion,” Katai says.
“I’ll also note that we have a section on our website that’s updated daily, which catalogues all donations, big and small, as well as where that money is spent,” Zarek says. “Down to the penny. There’s never any question about where our donation dollars are spent.”
“Or any dollars,” Byndley says. “Most salaries are readily available, as is where the funding comes from. We believe in transparency so that donors can feel comfortable and confident in giving to the school. No one is getting rich working at RDU, but that doesn’t mean they’re not living comfortably, either. ”
“That’s a pretty big deal,” Samuel says. “Not many people put that stuff out there unless it’s federally required, and even then, it’s buried deep and difficult to find.”
“We aren’t dependent on federal dollars,” I say.
“That doesn’t mean certain information isn’t required of us since we’re operating under an educational license, but what’s important is the students who come to us.
The first question I asked when accepting this position was, ‘How can I reach the largest number of queer youth who need our help?’ The answer is a bottomless bank account. ”
My comment receives several smiles and quiet laughter. I grin.
“They say the root of all evil is money, and I do agree to some degree. We can’t reach everyone unless we have a means to do so.
So the next question we asked ourselves was, ‘How do we convince people to trust us with their donations?’ The answer was to show them where our money goes.
There are many in-depth breakdowns of salaries, upkeep, etc.
, and what it takes to run any specific class or department on a single day, and I think that’s one of the biggest comments we receive from potential donors is how much they appreciate—and are surprised by—the figures we offer,” I say.
“Everyone wants to know where their money goes and why something costs so much,” Zarek says. “If we offer them those numbers up front in combination with seeing exactly where we spend our money, it goes a long way to facilitate trust and establish a relationship.”
“We can learn a lot from you,” Magnus says. “I’m truly humbled by the number of times I’ve been in awe.”
“Thank you,” I say, bowing my head a little.
“There’s room for improvement, always, and we continue to be better every year than we were the last. Whether that’s finding the means to bring one more student in on a full scholarship than the previous year.
Hiring an educator at the top of their field to teach our young folk.
Updating one of our labs to the newest technology so our students always have an edge.
RDU isn’t just a land of rainbows and queer people.
We are a force, and every single year, we’re going to get stronger and send stronger young queer people into the world with the highest quality education and voices that won’t be silenced. ”
I’m surprised when there’s a round of clapping. Jerome whoops, punching his fist into the air. Their excitement is infectious, and I grin.
My eyes meet Brevan’s, and he’s got the biggest, most beautiful smile pointed in my direction. I feel it in my chest. I feel the radiance of it against my skin, as if he’s the sun. It makes taking a breath shaky, but I can’t look away.
“I hadn’t meant to be motivational,” I murmur to Byndley.
She grins. “You’re more motivational than you realize, Kendrick. What makes you such a force all your own is that you back up your pretty words with actions. You inspire people to be better.” She nods toward the group, now loudly chatting about points I’ve said.
I’m not sure why her words hit me strangely. I’m reminded of my failed marriage. My estranged children, with whom I barely have a relationship. Maybe I’m good in a corporate setting. As a business model or an educational blueprint.
As someone with a hollow personal life and nothing to show for twenty-five years of marriage except three children who could go years without talking to me, maybe my success is all surface level.
My eyes meet Brevan’s again, and even stranger still is the way hope spears my chest. Ridiculous. Nothing is happening here. It can’t happen here. My heart doesn’t agree, though. Everything inside me doesn’t seem to agree with what my brain is saying.
All I want is to talk to that man some more.