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Attending the first day of an MFA fiction workshop at San Francisco State, I listened as the instructor took roll. When he came to the name Kirk Read, he hesitated, and then mumbled something about Kirk Read telling him he wouldn’t be taking the class. My ears perked up. The name Kirk Read was familiar. During the school year of 1982-83 in Virginia, when I was teaching fourth grade, I had a student named Kirk Read. Could it be the same little boy, all grown up and enrolled in graduate school?  

The name Kirk Read didn’t come to me completely out of the blue. Several years ago Kirk wrote How I Learned to Snap: A Small-Town Coming-Out and Coming of Age Story (Penguin Books). Former students told me about Kirk’s memoir, and said that he had moved to San Francisco. It wasn’t hard to find him. His name was splashed across the pages of many Bay Area newspapers. He was giving readings, performing, and emceeing practically everywhere.  

I looked up Kirk’s website, e-mailed him to reintroduce myself, and ordered his book. Kirk was out of town, but his automatic e-mail response said he’d return my message soon. When his book arrived I devoured it. Full of juicy tidbits about kids and adults I knew while living and teaching in Lexington, Kirk writes with tenderness and sensitivity about growing up gay in a conservative, southern town. Kirk’s father was a retired colonel in the United States Army and I remember him well. Director of alumni affairs for Virginia Military Institute, Colonel Read was rarely without a smile, a firm handshake, or a highball in his hand. I ran in footraces when I lived in Lexington and Col. Read was often my running partner. He once said to me, as I beat him over the finish line, “once a damn Yankee, always a damn Yankee.” 

After I finished Kirk’s book, I looked on his website in order to catch his next performance. He was going to be at the LBGT Community Center of San Francisco. 

It was easy to find Kirk at the center. Surrounded by the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, Kirk let out a squeal that could be heard around the block when he saw me coming toward him. “My fourth grade teacher!” he wailed. This set off the Sisters, who began to screech in unison with Kirk. Next thing I knew, I was attacked with hugs and kisses.  

After a blessing from the Sisters, I settled into a chair and watched Kirk perform. Full of amazing energy and enthusiasm, Kirk had the audience follow along as he chanted the Lexington High School football cheer (Go Scarlet Hurricanes!), and later had us weeping as he read about the awkwardness of finding his gay identity in a town known for its military heritage: Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson are buried in Lexington; Generals George C. Marshall and George Patton attended Virginia Military Institute.  

Months later, while in Manhattan, I caught another Kirk performance, and periodically I’d read about him in local newspapers. How I Learned to Snap was a finalist in the 2001 Lamda Literary Awards; Kirk selected and wrote the introduction for Best Gay Erotica 2004 (Cleis Press). 

During a break in the MFA class I asked the prof if the Kirk Read he had called during roll was the author of How I Learned to Snap. “Yes,” said the instructor. “Do you know him?” 

“I was his fourth grade teacher,” I said with pride. 

“No kidding,” he exclaimed. “Amazing!” 

“Yes,” I said returning to my seat. “Can you believe it? That ought to be good for an A in this class, don’t you think?” 

Kirk Read hosts Smack Dab, a monthly open mic/talent show in the Castro. The next Smack Dab will be held at 8 p.m. Wednesday, Oct. 20 at Magnet, 4122 18th St. between Castro and Collingwood. Go to www.kirkread.com for further information.e