EPISODE 91 TOUCHING KIDS IS A GOOD WAY TO LOSE YOUR JOB
alan skeoch’
August 10, 2020
Marjorie and I at a dance around 1961. Before becoming a teacher. We are touching hands. In 1951 we did not know
that such touching could be dangerous.
Marjorie, Kevin, Pete (the dog) around 1970
CAUTION …THIS STORY IS HARD TO BELIEVE…EVEN BY ME.
My profs at U. of T. faculty of education…John Ricker and Andy Lockhart
both cautioned us about touching. Yes, ‘Touching’.
“If you want to lose your job just try hugging too many female students…one of
them might report you saying, “He touched me!”
” Whether true or not…whether
entirely non sexual or not…That does not matter, you
will suffer some terrible consequences. Maybe lose your job even if the touching
was innocent or entirely fanciful…entirely in the mind of a teen-age girl. Be careful.”
“How can I be careful…half of the students I will teach will
be teen-age girls. And I would like the students to like me…would like
them to say “Skeoch is a good teacher…I like his classes…I like him.”
“Understood. The best way to stay out of trouble is to never ever be alone
with a female student. No touching. No patting on the back. No hug of
consolation in event a family tragedy. Be careful.”
The result was that I knew about ‘social distancing’ decades before this
current pandemic. I kept my distance. Most kids liked that distancing
anyway. They called me ‘sir’ which has a distancing effect. That is good.
Kids can love a male teacher without smothering him in hugs and kisses. To most
kids their teachers are old people even if the age gap is barely four years.
There is safety in that age gap. A gap reinforced by the use of ‘sir’ as a
term of respect as well as social distancing.
WHERE AM I GOING WITH THIS STORY?
Most of the kids I taught liked me. I could tell by their
smiles and the occasional tap on the shoulder by the boys.
Not all were admirers. I remember one girl told me to “Fuck
Off” in class. Sort of a shock. I asked why after class..
“You were standing on my foot.”
True. I thought that was amusing. “Stand up when you answer.”
But she could not stand up because I had committed the cardinal sin
of touching by standing on her foot. She could not stand up. Stupid
but most kids thought it was funny. She did not.
I apologized and we got along well after that.
In my first year of teaching one young Grade 9 girl really scared me.
She was a nice person. Quiet. Scared of high school I thought. So I
was nice to her. Big smlle. I made a point of greeting her just to allay
her fears.
Wrong thing to do!
We lived on Westminster Avenue which was a nice walk from
Parkdale Collegiate. Interesting stores on Roncesvales and Queen Street West.
The student met me by accident and walked home with me several times.
Too many times to be accidental. Got me really alarmed. I should not
be seen walking home with a female student. No touching involved. But imagination
of anyone who noticed might jump to dangerous conclusions.
So I began to fear walking home. A grown man afraid of a lonely
little Grade Nine girl. Seems ridiculous to others but not to me. I tried
slow walking and pauses at store display windows. I tried fast walking like Olympic
walkers. She was there whether fast or slow This happened too often
to be accidental. Let’s say she caught up to me five or six times. Enough
to raise alarm bells in my mind.
I shared my concern with other male teachers. Just keeping
people informed was some protection.
“How can I avoid the student without breaking her heart?”
(She was fragile…I feared hurting her. What was really wrong
with a student liking her teacher?}
“What can I do?”
“Did you ever try walking on the south side of Queen Street. Away
from the crowds on the sunny storefront side?”
“How would that help?”
“You could spot her and take evasive acton.”
That evening I took evasive action. South side of Queen St. Not so
many stores but enough for me to look for reflections.
Was she there? Sure. There she was paralleling me. Knowing that
i would have to cross to the North side once I reached Roncesvales (the
North South street that led to our home.
I lingered. Watched the reflection. Watched her pause. Then a funny thing
happened. Instead of looking at the reflection I looked at the goods the
store had for sale. Women’s lingerie.., Brassieres etc. Bizarre. Rather embarrassing.
Then the situation became even more bizarre. i decided to make a run for
the Roncesvales street car…zipping briefly on the north side of Queen then
running and jumping aboard the street car.
Where was she? She was right behind me. Jumping aboard
at the same time.
“Hello, sir.”
The weirdest thing then happened. Her mother was on the street car
close to the front doors. I knew her from parents’ night. We talked…small
talk. But that was the end of the accidental meetings. I think her mom
intervened. After that event I could walk home without worry of a female student escort.
Too incredible to believe? I know it seems so.
Was the situation completely finished? Nope. A couple of weeks later one
evening when I was coaching football at the Exhibition grounds the young
girl stopped by our house and asked Marjorie if she wanted to
buy a bunch of pictures of me that she had taken secretly. Marjorie
did not buy the pictures of me walking home. We were amused but
a bit disturbed at the same time. The tracking soon ended. The student
got older…forget about me…got on with her life.
Last I heard the young girl was married with three children of her own.
alan skeoch
August 2020
P.S. I made it a practice to never be alone in my room with
a female student. It was a good decision. Perhaps I might
be brave enough someday to tell the story of a student teacher I was
assigned later in my career. She tried to talk with me alone.
I was too wise for that. I failed her. She was a terrible teacher.
Another person she caught alone with her faced a rape insinuation.
Her parting comment? “I will kill you.” Marjorie and I stayed
home that week end.
P.P.S. Hard to believe? You bet. Even I find these stories
hard to believe. Teachers are treated as guilty until proven
innocent. The exact opposite of our criminal justice system.