There are so many things today. Taking a note from my dear friend Carolyn's blog, I think that it's time that I start thinking about some very real things that I've chosen to ignore for a while. This past week conjured a lot of old feelings that have been lodged away for years. I'm blogging about it now because I want someone to listen to me. I want to share it because I feel very alone in the experience. I don't want to edit this post, so please forgive any stream of consciousness that seeps in.
When I met with my friend Andrew, he told me that our old theater director had been fired for taking naked pictures of students. This man had had a history of such activity, and my boarding school hired him knowing this. While I was there I was very lucky that he did not approach me. At the time it made me feel very bad, as if I wasn't good enough or that I wasn't one of his "favorites".
I knew what he did to my friends. The school was small, and the theater community at the school was even smaller so it was really hard for me to believe that people didn't know that this was going on. Now I see that they did know, but like me they were too afraid to say anything. My time away at boarding school was fraught with a lot of sadness and distress, much of which I still feel today; but as a fifteen year old I was so concentrated on my own struggles that I didn't know how to take on anyone elses. In an act of pure selfishness I let my friends down by allowing these things to continue.
I also found out that this director had married another director of mine and they now run a children's theater together. At work the next day I ran a google search on this and not only did the theater company pop up immediately, so did my boarding school's explanation of the director's leave. They called it a sabbatical. He got away with it. Again. If I had had the courage, I could have said something years ago and stopped him from doing this to other students. But I was too self-centered.
In college I did a lot of writing about this man, and the relationship that he had with students. I think that I wrote about it so much because it was something that scared me, and that I didn't understand. Professors approached me after reading these pieces and said that they were very sorry. Many said that it was clear that the stories were true because of the details. I wonder how many students reveal themselves that way.
One of the most pointed memories I have of him was when I was in his introduction to theater class. Somehow we got on the topic of "Lolita" and he asked the class if they felt that the book was a love story or a character sketch of a pedophile. I had just read it for the first time, so I said that I thought that it was about a pedophile. He laughed and condescendingly said that that was what most people thought. He said that the truth was that it was a love story. Then he looked at me and said the opening line of the book. "Lo-Lee-Ta," before continuing with, "there are lots of different types of love, Rachel. Don't you know that?" I don't know what he was suggesting but even at fifteen I knew that there was something wrong with the tone of his voice and the way he spoke to girls. I felt overexposed when he looked at me but unfortunately this was the least of my problems at this school and I couldn't be bothered to delve into my friends problems when I had big things happening of my own. I feel a lot of shame for this. That year I copied the opening paragraph of Lolita onto the cover of my journal, with the hope that if I read the passage every day I would begin to understand "different kinds of love".
After all these years he was caught, but with no consequence. He was pardoned by the politics of prep school academia and is living a seemingly functional life with his wife, and the children's theater company that he always wanted. This disheartens and infuriates me more than I can say - to know that even if I had said something it probably would not have made a difference. Except that he would have taken his sabbatical a bit sooner.
I do not look forward to the emotional swells that surround my boarding school experience. I hope that there will be a time in the future when I do not became instantly angry at the mention of any boarding school regardless of if it was my own. I hope that one day I will be able to understand that boarding school is a wonderful choice for some students. To be honest though, my anger runs so deep that I don't think that it will ever go away. I cannot envision a world where I don't feel humiliation and rejection at the thought of that time. I just wanted to share this story. I don't think that I will be able to talk about this in detail, or even begin to vaguely describe other things that happened during my time away for a long time but it was important for me to begin talking, if only on one small spec of the blogosphere.
When all of this was happening my friend Margot took me to a local record store and bought me "Out of Range" by Ani DiFranco. She said that her angry chick days were over, and it was time for her to pass to torch. And she did. I'm still listening to that record.... seven years later.
Lastly, but most importantly -- if you suspect that you or someone you know has been sexually abused SPEAK UP. If you want more information about inappropriate relationships between teachers and students, published papers on the subject, or are just curious please visit the Child Molestation Research and Prevention Institute.
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