Sexual identity isn’t easy to discuss in a profession scarred by conservative bureaucracy. Standardized testing, rigid goals and teacher evaluations have only exacerbated an already challenging job. And in a world plagued by stereotypes that stigmatize LGBT educators, it’s no wonder that even my close friends questioned my yearning to come out.

“What you do in the privacy of your home is no one’s business,” they’d say. “It’s important to separate your personal and professional lives.”

To a certain extent, they’re correct. While students don’t need every detail, by sharing ourselves as we really are, we forge impenetrable bonds with students. It’s not enough to simply know them; they must know us, too.

Twenty-one states – plus Washington, D.C. and Puerto Rico – have state-based employment nondiscrimination laws covering sexual orientation that apply to both private and public sector employers. That means 29 states still don’t, and many LGBT educators fear coming out. In an environment where you are entrusted with the health and guidance of children, the stakes feel even higher. We worry: Will I be fired? Will parents be angry? Or worst of all, will my students no longer respect me?

My third year of teaching built up my strength to tell the truth, and then, in 2013, as my home state of Illinois legalized same-sex marriage, fate gave me a push.

A colleague approached me about discussing the legislation in the classroom. I eagerly agreed. We arranged articles showing both viewpoints, composed a letter to parents and sent it off. Within hours, we’d received supportive emails, thanking us for bringing the topic into the curriculum.

The next morning, however, the principal summoned us to her office.

“This topic is inappropriate for kids,” she said, “and this is not the forum for changing the world, Paul.”