It seemed like a great idea. Earlier this year, as they looked for ways to fill the final issues of their award-winning school newspaper, The Kernal, student journalists at California's East Bakersfield High School came up with what they thought was a winner � a series on LGBTQ issues. The articles would focus on the high school's LGBTQ students and their individual coming-out stories. They'd give voice to a part of the student body that was rarely heard from before, and hopefully encourage discussion, debate, and acceptance.

A great idea, but there was just one problem � the school principal. East Bakersfield's administrative leader refused to allow the stories to be published, and in so doing, joined a growing army of educators, parents, politicians, and others trying to keep "homosexuality" out of public schools.

Taking It to Court

Not surprisingly, East Bakersfield's student journalists did fight back. They took their school to court, suing for the right to publish, in the name of free speech. The Kernal's editor-in-chief, 18-year-old Joel Paramo, summarized his and his peers' feelings in a statement he made at the hearings: "There are some negative attitudes against gay people on campus," said Paramo. "But that is exactly why we chose to focus on sexual orientation in the paper: so that the issues could be talked about in the open, not stuffed back into the closet." The verdict? It's still up in the air, but there's hope the stories will be published in the next school year.

A Growing Trend

The situation at East Bakersfield High is just one example of how LGBTQ voices are being silenced in schools across the country. In other cases, anti-gay groups and individuals in Montgomery County, MD, have called for the removal of information about sexual orientation from sex-education curricula in county schools. At White County High School in Cleveland, GA, students were prevented from forming a gay-straight alliance. Elsewhere, in states ranging from California to Oklahoma to Wisconsin, groups have tried to ban books by LGBTQ authors or with LGBTQ content from school and public libraries. And, as they're attempting to do at East Bakersfield, they've prevented school papers from publishing stories about LGBTQ issues.

A Result of Ignorance

Schools' attempts to forbid gay-straight alliances have been especially forceful. School officials in Cleveland, GA, for example, even tried to ban all after-school clubs in order to prevent White County High School's gay-straight alliance from forming.

Students like 17-year-old Talia Stein, now an intern at the Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network (GLSEN), which works to end LGBTQ student harassment, think the backlash is a result of ignorance and fear.

"When people hear 'gay,' they block out the rest and they don't hear the 'straight' part of the alliance," says Talia. "They just assume the club is teaching sex, that we're turning people gay, and they never try to find out what is actually going on in the club, which is simply education and advocacy around this specific issue."

Talia's own experience at her high school in Chicago is particularly telling. "When I started school, I noticed that sexual orientation, while not necessarily talked about in a negative manner, was not talked about at all," she says. "It wasn't mentioned in health classes, it wasn't mentioned in any curriculum, we didn't have a club that outwardly did any work around the issue, and that kind of bothered me. And so I thought it would be fun to start a gay-straight alliance. So I met with a couple of friends, found a sponsor, filled out the forms, and was promptly denied."

Talia's efforts to form the club were blocked, repeatedly, for nearly a year. Eventually, though, with the help of LAMBDA Legal, a nonprofit organization offering legal assistance for LGBTQ people, the school gave in. "They said fine, have the club. And they've been supportive ever since."

For the students at East Bakersfield -- and for LGBTQ students and allies across the nation -- that's good news. But the fight continues. To find out how you can help fight for LGBTQ rights in schools, check on GLSEN's Web site.

On April 13, Talia Stein, a 17-year-old senior at Stevenson High School in Lincolnshire, IL, will not talk. She'll wake up in the morning, eat breakfast, and make her way to school. She'll see her friends, walk the halls, and attend class. But at no point during the day will she say a word.

Talia is a founding member of her school's Gay-Straight Alliance. She's also a student volunteer for a national group called the Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network, or GLSEN. Every April, GLSEN sponsors a Day of Silence, and thousands of high schools and universities across the country take part in this wordless demonstration.

Students Stand Up

"The goal of the Day of Silence is to raise awareness of the type of discrimination and harassment that affects and silences all students, gay and straight alike," explains Josh Lamont, a spokesperson for GLSEN. "Silence is used as a tool to represent the silencing of LGBT people."

Participants in the Day of Silence also organize educational displays and events designed to teach observers the importance of accepting all people for who they are, regardless of their sexual orientation. Many take part in local or regional "Breaking the Silence" rallies, where students come together at the end of the day to celebrate. In the Chicago area Talia's home turf they've dubbed the evening party the "Night of Noise."

Started in 1996 by students at the University of Virginia, the Day of Silence has since grown to include thousands of participants from across the country. Last year it drew nearly 300,000 students from more than 3,000 schools. Organizers predict this year's turnout will be even bigger.

Students, says Lamont, are the key to the event's success. "They're the entire thing. They're the ones working to organize in their local areas and across the nation. This really is a student-led effort." Students who wish to get involved as leaders attend GLSEN's Jump-Start leadership program in Washington, DC. The program includes intensive training in what it takes to run an event like the Day of Silence.

At Stevenson High School, home to nearly 5,000 students, Talia who attended the leadership program herself hopes for a strong showing. "Our goal is 400 people," she says. "I think we can do it." Last year at Stevenson, 60 students remained silent for the entire day, while another 40 non-silent participants wore stickers to demonstration their support. Now, says Talia, the school's Gay-Straight Alliance is bigger than ever, with more than 500 members. So there's a good chance the event will be a huge success.

Words that Hurt

"What we hope people will understand is that it doesn't take violence to silence somebody," says Talia. "When we walk down the hall and hear people say 'that's so gay' or we hear the word 'faggot' being thrown around that, in effect, is silencing. It says, 'You're not OK with us. We think you're weird. We don't want you with us.' We want people to realize that their actions have ramifications and what they do affects how other people feel about themselves. And hopefully by seeing 20, 30, 40, or 100 kids not talking, they'll realize that their words can hurt. And that their words take away somebody else's right to be who they are."

The Day of Silence is bound to achieve its goal. It will raise awareness of an issue critical to LGBT people and their families, friends, and allies. Most importantly, it will get people talking. "If I personally hear about a good conversation that's been had as a result of the Day of Silence," says Lamont, "then we've done what we've set out to do."

To find out how you and your school can get involved in the Day of Silence, check out www.dayofsilence.org.