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The pupils are often in turmoil when they enroll. Most youths who suspect they are gay successfully hide their sexual leanings. Harvey Milk students are frequently in such conflict that as many as 30% of them have attempted suicide (compared with 11% of straight adolescents), according to director Joyce Hunter. Some students have suffered humiliating sexual contacts in gay bars and on the sordid streets of Times Square. They know that although society has grown more tolerant of divergent life-styles, homosexuals still endure widespread hostility and a marked threat of AIDS and violence. Some young homosexuals go to enormous lengths to deny their sexuality. Teenage lesbians have been known to become pregnant in order to prove they are "normal."
Critics of Harvey Milk suggest that children with special needs, particularly homosexuals, should not be segregated but should learn to accept themselves in the context of a larger society. "Harvey Milk might be a good intermediate approach, but I'm not sure these students learn to cope in a school that is exclusively homosexual," says Susan Forman, professor of psychology at the University of South Carolina.
Counters Hunter: "Our program is designed to mainstream them back into society, but some kids refuse to go back to a traditional setting. They say this is the first place to tell them their career of choice isn't necessarily hairdresser." Adds Stephen Phillips, superintendent of New York City's alternative schools and programs: "If 100% of the youngsters are to get the education they are entitled to, we have to adapt to them -- go to the kids rather than expecting them to come to us. Like the addicted or the handicapped, Harvey Milk kids couldn't or wouldn't fit in with the school system. Are they entitled to an education? Yes."
Each term students, most of whom are at a fifth-grade reading level, receive a course description and sign a contract stipulating that they understand what is expected of them. Most have a study plan designed just for them, which means teacher Goldhaber instructs five students in as many subjects at once. While the method appears old-fashioned, classroom dialogue seems drawn from experimental theater. At his right hand, Goldhaber pores over pictures with one student, saying, "Yes, this is an ion, but is it just an ion or a hydroxide ion? Think about it." He asks the student on his left, "Do you really believe 20 times 15 is 30,000?" As someone bursts into song, trilling "Don't make me over," the school's only heterosexual girl, who stays on because she says she likes Harvey Milk, strides to the board and writes I'M STRAIGHT in block letters.
Between classes, Goldhaber explains the helter-skelter atmosphere: "There is a misconception that order means quiet, means sitting in your seat. There is control here under the guise of chaos. If someone comes in in a fab outfit or makes a guest appearance after weeks of absence, we have to take time to make note. But kids don't get away with not learning here."
Like others at Harvey Milk, Goldhaber is angry about what public schools do to problem kids. "I had a girl who had been told she was stupid at math and refused to study it. I begged her. I said, 'Please, please, please,' until she agreed. Now math is the first thing she wants to do. Other teachers promoted them, but subject matter left them behind."