To The School Teacher Who Abused Me When I Was a Child
A letter to the teacher who abused me. I remember your name, I remember your face. The way, you stood at the front of assembly each week with your pointy nose and peering eyes. You were my teacher for one year. You taught me about the European Economic Community. This was the first acronym I ever learnt. I remember drawing all the flags and colouring them in my book. I was only 8 but I found the topic fascinating. I really did. You wrote on the blackboard as the class copied your text word for word. You had buck teeth and I kind of felt sorry for you when the children in the playground called you a horse.
I thought you were a good teacher. You taught religion, the story of Noah’s Ark, parables of the good Samaritan. You really believed this, you were a devout Christian and so was I. I grew up in a religious home and thought it was great that my school teacher was sharing the stories of Jesus with my class.
You put hymns on the overhead projector each week and we sung as you played the piano. You were a talented teacher. We sung love is something if you give it away, Cross over the road my friend and Fairest Lord Jesus. You had the whole school singing songs of praise. You often taught parables and stories with morals. You appeared passionate about this.
I remember one story in particular:
A builder was instructed by his boss to build a house. He was given plenty of money and left to go about his job. Instead of using the best bricks and the best wood, the builder chose the cheapest materials. He built a house on the cheap and pocketed the money. The house though beautiful on the outside was deep down very poor quality. When reporting the completion of the house to his employer, the boss handed the Key back to the builder and said, this is a gift for you. The builder then realised his mistake. He had built a house for himself, yet it was not the type of home it could have been.
I remember you sharing this story. It was real food for thought. It had a good moral. You were teaching everyone the importance of being honest. The important of doing an honest days work and that It’s important to always do your best and be true to yourself.
I never forgot the story you told. I don’t think I ever will.
I also never forgot the time you abused me in your office. Do you remember? I do.
I don’t know why I never told anyone what you did to me. I must have been too frightened. You certainly taught me a lot that day.
You taught me that I was not important. You taught me that my feelings did not matter. You taught me to listen to authority and blindly obey. You taught me to accept abuse from men stronger and more powerful than me. You ingrained into me a feeling of fear, you taught me to do what I was told when I was told. The day you abused me you took something from me, you destroyed my self-worth and confidence.
It’s been 25 years. If you are alive you’ll be an old man now, maybe your in an old people’s home or living with your family. You could be dead, I really do not care. I’ve finally overcome my abusive past. Your no longer in my thoughts. Your no longer in my nightmares. I see you for what you truly are, a hypocrite and an abuser.
It took a long time but I finally learnt that men like you teach false truths. I’ve learnt to stand up to abusive and controlling men. I won’t let them or you affect my life anymore. I won’t accept lies because I am important. My feelings do matter and I am of great worth.
You were not a true teacher, you were a Hypocrite.
I know it and now the whole world knows it.
I am also now a qualified teacher. I went to University and graduated and I write a blog called The Inspiration Edit. I have a voice a strong voice! In the coming weeks and months and years, I plan to speak out against abuse.
I’m going to speak out against men like you and teach women that they are of worth, that they are of infinite worth and I plan to teach women to recognise the not so subtle signs of power and control. I’m going to stand up to men like you.
You had no right to do what you did to me and now I’ve taken the power back. I’m now free. You however are not. How can you be? You will always be weighed down knowing that you abused a child, a little 8-year-old girl and from that knowledge you will never be free.
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