Part III:
(If you haven’t already, read Part I, Part II)
I walk in to empty hallways. Everyone is already in their first period class.
I’m technically late, but I didn’t want to come here for first period, because I’m not really sure where I’m supposed to go. Walking into his class, even though I’ve been assured he is not going to be here, doesn’t seem like a place I want to be right now.
I put my stuff in my locker and grab my second period things. I decide to head to the counselor’s office. I’ll hang out in there until the bell rings for me to go to class.
When I walk in the counselor asks me to shut the door.
We discuss how I’m doing and he assures me he’s in my corner. He tells me about some of the discussions he’s been involved in, fills me in on what all he’s heard, and what I should expect moving forward.
My nerves are heightened when I look up at the clock in his office and realize I’m going to have to head to class soon. I anticipate a fair amount of questions and assumptions from my peers and my mental and emotional exhaustion is making the thought of it almost impossible to endure. I’m already wondering if I’ll even be able to make it through the day.
There’s a tennis ball sized lump in my throat radiating a burn so hostile I can feel it in my gut. The tears welling behind my eyes are so persistent and heavy I sense if I let a single one surface I won’t be able to stop the inundation.
Uncaring, the bell rings anyways.
Sitting in second period, I try to maintain my focus. Brushing off any questions or comments when suddenly I’m called out of class by the Principal herself.
She walks me down the empty hallway and pulls me into a small, empty office. She closes the door behind us.
As we both awkwardly stand there in close proximity. She puffed chested, me deflated. She tells me she thinks it’d be best if I meet with “her colleague” one-on-one. He would like to apologize for his behavior and she thinks all of this can be put to rest. She feels he really is sorry for what he’s done. “We all make mistakes.” she says.
I suddenly have this feeling of being watched. Like someone else is in the room. Like I’m being ambushed. Every hair on my body is standing tall. My ears are ringing. I can’t stop looking around the room assuring myself no one else is here.
I tell her “No, absolutely not.” as I reach for the door. She steps in front of me insisting I hear her out.
And there they go… the tears… pouring down my face in torrents. Completely unstoppable.
When she realizes I’m crying the obvious frustration washes over her face.
“You need to calm down. I can’t have you going back to class crying. Everyone is already talking about this and we can’t be adding fuel to the fire. If you can’t stop crying I think you should just go home.”
I push past her, open the door, and head for the bathroom to try and regain my composure.
I stand there in the mirror debating if I should just go home. Maybe things will calm down over the weekend and Monday will be easier.
I decide to head to my confidant’s office and see if she can help me calm down. She’s like another mother to me and I’m sure she’ll know just what to say to make me feel better.
When I tell her what the principal did and said she gives me the impression she too feels maybe that would be best. She thinks maybe I should just meet with him and let him explain his side of the story. Let him apologize. Tell him how uncomfortable it made me feel. Then, maybe I’ll feel better and things can calm down around here, get things back to normal.
Now I’m enraged. Confused. Beyond emotional. I feel betrayed. I feel misled. Lied to.
Why has everyone who less than 24 hours ago was just as disgusted by him as me, now suddenly feeling the need to brush it all under the rug as swiftly as possible?
Once again, it’s the middle of the school day, and I find myself walking down the empty hall and out to my car.
“Mom, they want me to meet with him face to face…” I begin as I sit in my car in the high school parking lot with tears running down my face.
to be continued… Part IV
At 17 I’d not yet experienced a true and thorough double-dealing. I really cannot put into words how contradictory these people’s reactions were from one day to the next.
It quickly became apparent that those in charge felt the best plan of action was to back pedal and pretend the entire incident wasn’t that big of a deal.
I can’t say for sure, because I was never personally privy to the meetings between the Superintendent and, I would imagine, some sort of attorney(s) and/or union reps, but my family and I were under the distinct impression the powers that be at the time realized getting rid of this teacher for this particular incident would require a certain amount of effort. It would likely bring negative attention to the district and quite possibly dredge up some valuable information that was already (and still is) on this particular teacher’s record. Information that I’m sure, if more publicly known, would raise question as to why this person is still entrusted with young female students.
As an adult, and even as the mature 17-year-old I once was, I understand there is a level of immorality that comes with anybody of power. There’s a pecking order. A good ol’ boys’ system. Let’s face it, if you get “in” with the right people, you can get away with a lot more than the next guy.
This particular teacher is a professional at finding his way “in”.
To be honest, the most hurtful part of all of this was having to learn the tough life lesson that most people are not willing to put their necks on the line simply because it’s the right thing to do. Nor are they willing to do so for the solitary sake of another person.
I would have been less damaged by this entire incident if the people I trusted would have been frank with me in admitting that while they know it isn’t right, they feel their hands were tied professionally.
That being said, I challenge each and every person reading this to step out of their comfort zone. Take a risk. If you are a victim yourself, please hear me when I say, you did not deserve what happened to you and you are strong enough to speak your truth. You may not have had much control of the situation then, but you certainly can take control of what is to come of it. Such an act of courage could save a life. Or maybe you are a person who is in a position that gives you the power to make a difference… what are you waiting for? Make a difference. Lastly, maybe you are more so a bystander who has remained quiet because that’s the easier, more popular thing to do… I ask that you take a moment to imagine… if it were you or your child, you would hope others would do the right thing, the hard thing, the unpopular thing.