STEM...

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Additional filters include sorting the opportunity type from after-school program or camp to scholarships and online learning. Educators and researchers can specifically search for grants and funded projects, lesson plans or professional development resources. Resources and opportunities can also be filtered by the affiliated organization or institution and their location across the OSU system.

“I wanted to create an outward facing resource to serve STEM educa- tion,” Stansberry said. “I wanted it to function like Netflix where a teacher can go and filter through resources and save what they like or find helpful. Educators don’t have time to go to multiple places to find resources.”

By serving a wide audience, the hub can benefit faculty members in maximizing the impact of research grants, but it can also help parents find

Courtesy of OSU opportunities for their child.

Stansberry emphasized the importance of making information, opportunities and resources available and accessible. Throughout the next year she will be engaging with STEM education collaborators across the OSU system to stay aware of all K-12 STEM opportunities and continue to grow the hub. news.ed@ocolly.com

After graduating from Clark, Kaufman and a group of her college friends packed up and headed on a six-week cross-country road trip that eventually ended in Concord, California. Experiencing new things for the first time, she was able to learn things about herself she never knew and comfortably lived a “hippie” lifestyle. She started off working in a liquor store in Concord and eventually began working at an abortion clinic with her first girlfriend and friends. She was exposed to a new world of politically active women—some of whom happened to identify as lesbians.

“I think my political evolution around being queer was gradual, you know?” Kaufman said. “I was immersing myself in the abortion movement, sort of post-Roe v. Wade, and the women’s health movement, women taking control of their bodies. I’m in a network of women who are focused on women’s health and I think at that point in time being a lesbian was kind of beside the point; I was kind of struggling with, you know, am I a lesbian? Or am I just a woman who’s attracted to other women?

And what does it mean to be a lesbian?”

In November of 1978, not far from Concord, the mayor of San Francisco, George Moscone, and supervisor, Harvey Milk, were assassinated. The former supervisor, Dan White, was enraged his position was to be filled and made his way into city hall and shot the two men fatally.

This struck close to home for numerous LGBTQ+ members as Milk was openly gay and Moscone, a straight man, was in support of gay rights and honorably considered ahead of his time politically.

Kaufman recalls this particular tragedy as a turning point for her when she imme - diately felt deeply connected to the situation. Unsure why that connection was there at the time, soon after Kaufman fully came to terms with who she is as a lesbian woman.

After a few years in California, Kaufman returned to the east coast to receive her doctorate. Studying at State University of New York (SUNY) in Albany, she dove into a new kind of activism.

Activism has always been important to Kaufman; being able to join forces with someone who has similar ideals and the urge to make change is undoubtedly powerful to her and she knew from the start it is the only way to make change. Diving into activism and seeking help when it is needed is just the first step in creating a new narrative.

“You come together with other people who are going through the same struggles,” Kaufman said. “You talk about it, you begin to think politically about ‘how do we turn this around?’ I mean, that’s the only way to deal with it. I think coming together as a group of people and talking about it, and then figuring out how to educate other people about what you’re talking about. That’s the way change happens.”

In the 80s, the AIDS epidemic hit hard and homophobia was at an all-time high in the United States. Kaufman was quick to become involved with ACT UP (AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power). Not entirely sure how she got into the group initially, she stated that as soon as she knew of the organization she began attending meetings.

“The focus is on educating ourselves about what it is,” Kaufman said. “What I did with ACT UP was attending meetings, getting information out to the community, the protests have all been demonstration marches. It’s about an effort to turn this [AIDS] around.”

At the beginning of the AIDS epidemic, Kaufman stated President Ronald Reagan did not make it a top priority at first. The general public was first made aware of AIDS in the summer of 1981, but U.S. leaders, such as Reagan, were silent for many years. Kaufman knew ACT UP and members of the community would have to take things into their own hands and raise awareness.

On Sept. 17, 1985, the former president finally mentioned AIDS publicly.

After completing her Ph.D. (1989) in educational psychology and statistics from SUNY, her soon-to-be wife, Jan, hired her on at Union College. After a radical dissertation topic was given to the psychology department, things turned quickly, but not necessarily for the worse.

In 1991, Jan encouraged Kaufman to accept a professorship at Oklahoma State University in the Department of Applied Behavioral Studies in Education.

Knowing she only wanted to be hired if the school was aware of her being a lesbian, she said OSU saw no problem with her identity and welcomed her in. She became an adviser for OSU’s Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual Community Association (GLBCA), and eventually in 1993, she accompanied some students and faculty to the March on Washington for Lesbian, Gay and Bi Equal Rights and Liberation.

Before her time in Stillwater, she did not expect to fall in love with the campus and town. But she did immediately, and as the years went on, Jan would eventually move to Enid and they would visit each other. Today, they have been together for 33 years.

Kaufman also created a group in Stillwater called the Acadykes.

The group, targeted explicitly toward lesbians who were academics, would host monthly dinner parties and attend retreats. Kaufman had the desire to be around other lesbians in the community and she eventually published an ad printed in the Oklahoma City lesbian newspaper. This brought attention to the Acadykes and the group continued throughout her time in Stillwater.

In 1996, Kaufman left Oklahoma and became a professor and director for the doctoral program in Learning and Teaching at Hofstra University in Hempstead, New York. Her continuous drive to teach and advocate for LGBTQ+ rights is inspiring, even after her recent retirement in August 2022.

“I take the long view,” Kaufman said. “Knowing full well, that you may die before there’s significant change. If you hadn’t taken those steps, then the change won’t happen. So whether the change is going to be immediate or whether the changes are in the distant future; if you don’t move forward, if you don’t educate, if you’re not talking to people, if you’re not engaging in activism, then you’re not making at least the possibility [for change]. I’ve always told my students, the first women who fought for women’s rights, it took 150 years. Elizabeth Cady Stanton was long dead by the time women got the vote. That’s what keeps me going. You have to live a life that’s responsive to the issues that are happening in the community that you live in. And if you aren’t doing that, you’re a part of the problem.”

Many LGBTQ+ elders have had experiences since the 1950s. Kaufman herself has lived through an excruciating time for those in the community, and all they have been striving for is equal rights. In recent years, elders are getting to live in peace as they have always deserved. There is still a long way to go, but their perseverance has given them rights and respect outside of the closet.

“I’m an essential optimist, and I don’t think that the U.S. population is stupid,” Kaufman said. “I think many people are getting very angry at their freedoms being taken. Parents, who no longer can make decisions about whether children can read or not read. Legislators are making those decisions for them. It’s all a piece of taking away freedom, and I think when we look at it that way, people are getting really pissed. If we can continue to hammer home the idea that this is about everybody’s freedom. This is not about trans folks, this is not about banning books, this is not about abortion. It’s about freedom.”