My name is Sam Besserman, I’m eleven years old, I live in Beverly Hills, California, and ever since I can remember I have been subjected to political bias in school. The first time I noticed the bias was actually in preschool, where the teacher was reading a book about the importance of mothers and the inferiority of fathers. I tried to tell the teacher that dads might be just as important. The teacher responded in a sing-song, “No, listen to me, I’m the teacher.” Of course, the girls loved the book and most of the boys hated it, except for a few who liked it and also wanted to become mothers some day. I was three years old and royally pissed off. I had to listen to such feminist ideas every day, and at times, I actually bought into them. Months later, I still didn’t know whether mothers were really more important than fathers. Once I even felt like going into the bathroom and trying to pull off my penis. It wasn’t that I wanted to be a woman – I had just lost my enthusiasm for my embattled gender. The only male teacher I had might as well have been castrated. His voice was soft, his gestures were feminine, he didn’t know how to run a class, and he had to rely on female assistant teachers to control the children.

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