Pam was offered a transplant. A new kidney. She had been on Dialysis for almost all of her life. There was the possibility that she might reject the transplant, but there were new drugs available that might help. She accepted the offer.
For about a month or so, this sickly little girl got stronger, and became, if that were possible, more endearing to the doctors and nurses who surrounded her. Then, sometimes between Christmas ‘77 and her birthday in January, ‘78, her body began to fight the new organ and reject it.
Nanna, Father’s Octogenarian mother had flown from Australia to care for us at home, while Mother and Father would stay in New York by Pam’s side. At Christmas, Nanna had taken me to see Pam in her bed. She was proud of being able to carry the iv tube carriage which was always connected to her, when she walked. She had Christmas presents that were unopened, something for her to look forward to. For a time, I was jealous.
The trip home from Nnew York was horrible, and when Nanna and I reached Princeton, there were no taxis available, as it was Christmas eve. The police refused to help, saying they might get called on duty while giving us a lift. Then a lovely man, on his way home in Trenton, offered us a lift. Nanna, not accustomed to accepting lifts from strangers, considered the snow piled around and got in. He had a friendly booming voice and a self-deprecating sense of humour, cheerfully acknowledged police shortcomings and said, “But you know, if you are in trouble, who ya gunna call?”
We got in and Nanna made the phone call to the hospital and told Mother that we were back safely.
We went to the Hospital many times in the ensuing weeks. I preferred the trips with Nanna. She wouldn’t take me to the New York Metropolitan Opera. Mother became aware she was going to lose her daughter and all her pretensions to cleverness wouldn’t hide the fact. She didn’t know how to behave or what to do. All those times she had taken Pam and I to a church and wrote letters outside. Pam and I were treated like outsiders inside, defending our Mother’s lack of faith, which we shared, against any of the congregation that would assail us. Now my Mother still didn’t believe in god, and she was beginning to hate him.
Father was easy to sidestep during this period.
Doctors realised they were losing the transplant. They would have to attempt another if Pam was to survive. She would have to go back on dialysis. Mother said that she thought about this for a while, and then asked her if it was ok for her to die. She had tried to live, but she was too sick. She didn’t want to go through dialysis again, or face another operation.
It was agreed that further treatment of Pam would be symptomatic. One evening, after school, where I had been making Valentine Day cards at my teacher’s behest, Cathy’s boyfriend offered to drive us all to the hospital in New York. Mother and Father were there. Pam was in intensive care. Her breathing was regulated by a machine, that had a tube that ran over her taped, mouth. Iv drips ran into her arm and her eyes were closed, but had rapid eye movement. I alone did not hold her hand. I looked at her face, at the glue that held the tape. I looked at her pasty white face. At her closed eyes. But her eyes weren’t completely closed, I could see her eyes, a little, beneath the lid. She couldn’t ackowledge us, if she knew we were there.
We went home. I didn’t like to go to the laundry when it was dark, so naturally it was decided by Cathy and John that I should go too the laundry and get something. The light was at the bottom of the steps to the laundry, well above and to the left of the door handle. I remember getting a splinter in my left index finger, as I went to flick the switch, at 11:47 pm on February 14th Nineteen Seventy Eight.
The next morning, I remember the intense disappointment of seeing Father. I thought that would mean that Mother was at the hospital with Pam. Mother was home too. I asked her why she was home at the same time as Father. She told me that Pam had died at a quarter to twelve last evening. The detail, like Father turning of the machines after she was declared brain dead was something Mother would hold on to, until she could find a way to use that against me.
I knew Mother wouldn’t be coherent, so I went to ask Father, what had happened. He wasn’t likely to become a bear at this time. I stood in front of him while he made a few phone calls and burst into tears. I went to my room, and lay face down on my bed. I couldn’t cry. I wondered if I was a bad person for not crying, and felt that I should, but couldn’t. I pretended to cry into my pillow. Then I went to the television room to be out of the way. I was wondering who would get all those unopened presents.
==== Later that year ===
I was eleven and did not know God. On this evening John was away. My Mother was watching Prisoner on TV and I think the neighbours could hear it as well. Adjacent to the TV Room was the bedroom and light was abundant and soft. From the bed I could look up the skirt of the window onto a bright street-light. My arms were straight by my side and lying over the overly warm blankets we had stolen from some European hotel.
Pam had died earlier in the year and I was rewarded with a change of continent and removal from all things familiar. I hated Prisoner, but liked the theme song. I couldn't sleep. I lay there, sweating and not sleeping. Wishing the TV program would end so I could hear the theme. Then I floated off the bed and hovered over my prone body for a while.
In many previous dreams where I float I could choose where I went. On this evening, however, I was asked to leave through the window and I didn't wish to refuse. Some shadowy character motioned its index finger at me while I wasn't watching and I left the building. Using the pole of the street-light to swing and provide purchase to lift up I could glide over the parked cars towards the shops, which had their backs to us in the day. Between the tree-tops and shop roofs and the unit I discovered that I could be caught in the open. I became aware that some malevolent presence was looking for me, but I was ok as it could only look at ground level.
I slowly drifted to the ground and I went in search of cover. I found I was safer gliding close to buildings. Touching a brick here and a roof slat there so I could correct my drift and keep purchase. Whenever I touched ground I found I could float again by accelerating my heart rate. I had not explored far when I came across an alcove. It seems strange to me now, but I cannot remember where that alcove was. But I remember that it was not over the clouds or under the ground. It was nowhere where mortals walk. I followed the shadowy character motioning with its index, into the alcove, which became a tunnel that ended in a bright light.
I came to the end of the tunnel and entered the impossibly bright room. I stood cowed by the light, my right arm shielding my eyes as if in salute. I stood before Him. He asked me if I knew who He was and I confessed I did not know. Not knowing, yet it was clear to me I had a choice. I could stay there forever, or leave and possibly not come back. "My Lord, I will serve you." I wanted to meet Pam and my grandparents but I did not wish to stay. I was bowing, bent, no! I was prostrate, my knees were grounded and my forehead touched the ground. I realised that I did not know God, but I would make it my purpose to. And so I was sent home.
I was in bed. It was hot. My heart was racing. I could feel that malevolent spirits were around me and I wanted to move, to defend myself. I wanted to confront them with my knowledge that they could not harm me. I could breathe and I felt myself trying to say this but soon realised that I could not breathe. If only I could call for help. If only I could get some more light. I called out "Help me." but of course I couldn't breathe and so I couldn't make a sound. I tried to move and found my movements uncertain and lethargic as I called out for help. Soon I found I could exhale and I used that strategically to break the paralysis. My breathing was loud and laboured and I was hoarsely calling for help, but my calls were beginning to take on tone.
My mother was drunk when she came to see what was wrong. She apologised for the loudness of the TV and switched off the TV room lights that had so abundantly shone. I didn’t like her. I didn’t trust her. I had never liked her, but I was used to being able to manipulate her. She had changed now. She did her own thing. She would get drunk regularly. She kept Pam’s toys and the box of her ashes in her bed. This woman who knew no religion, knew no religion. She found no solace. I couldn’t work out what was worse for her. Was it that Pam had died, or was it that Pam had been very sick? Mother no longer had a plaything she could torture with her adolescent fantasy. I would find out she still believed she had the third rate plaything: me.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
From an old student
wow sir sounds like alots happen well theres not much i can say but good luck finding fiding a better position and dw sir you were a good teacher im sure theres someone out there just waiting to employ you. Also good luck overthrowing the NSW state government. :p
To My Mother, or 'why I choose to be a Christian'
I am asked, from time to time, by those who care for me, why I don’t take the time to call you. Not all those who ask that question care for me. If my siblings knew, they have forgotten. You keep sending letters to me, reminding me. I now feel compelled to share my position, which is not based on fear or loathing or anger as some have said. It is not based on compassion, either as if I were more compassionate I might behave differently. It is because you will not listen to me and so I cannot help you.
Sometimes when I am asked, I reply that you are ill and there is nothing I can do for you. I recognize that sounds strange to the uninitiated, but it has the strength of being true, and so I don’t have to try to remember it if I had told a simple lie. I feel powerless and more than a little frustrated, because I know how you can be helped, but I cannot do that. I don’t have any of those things you recognize as salve for your wounds.
I am forty two years old, and I became a Christian when I was eighteen. It was a profound change for me, and the change has continued throughout my life. Although I am a ridiculous figure, fat and cursed, there is little in me that folk desire, yet people comment on my great strength and determination, and in days gone by, on my sunny disposition. I don’t always feel blessed, but I know I am.
I was raised by you and father to be an atheist. To spot the ridiculous posturings of religion and despise them. I had thought it was your lone claim to reason, I watched and copied as you identified those things people embrace for love and support so that you might reject them.
I remember a friend of yours who tried to get me to smoke a cigarette once, when I was about five years old and we were in a lift, Pam, her and I. I don’t know why she was a friend of yours, you were very anti cigarettes. Maybe she was one of your Democrat friends who struggled to oppose Nixon as he moved to end the war in Vietnam, initiate equal rights legislation and fought poverty through wealth creation. Your friend offered Pam the cigarette, but Pam was too sensible to take it pointing out her medical issues, so I was offered. I thought it a disgusting thing, and hadn’t even considered what was required. Your friend told me that all I had to do was to put the cigarette between my lips and breathe. I realized I didn’t want to breathe in the smoke, so I exhaled and the cigarette burn went quickly to the filter. Your friend retrieved what was left of it, and suggested we try again some time, when I felt ready. But she never did. You said she had died, about six months later, from lung cancer. Maybe she did die, and maybe you chose to break contact with her because she had offered Pam the cigarette.
Pam was two years older than me and very sick. When she was very young you knew she had problems. You had thought they were learning difficulties, at first, but about the time I was born you knew of her kidney disease. John was four years older than me and Cathy, the eldest, was six years older. You had chosen to live separately to father so that he could work for us. But he got a break and we all lived in Princeton after you burned down our house in Leonia.
It was clear that you weren’t satisfied with child raising. Although you felt church was full of bigots, you used to take Pam and me to church for Sunday school. You would sit outside and write letters and Pam would argue with people who would try to interest her in craft activity coloring in Jesus. You stopped me from Karate class, saying I was becoming too violent, but you used to drop me off at YMCA to take a swimming class. You didn’t know that I had been too confused by different instructions from people who didn’t know me so I hid in the change rooms every week for most of a year. You sent me to a camp for soccer, and for singing .. but never found out, never asked, about what happened when I was abused there. One boy with Nazi sympathising parents came over to swim one time and asked me several times to suck his dick and you suggested he visit again. You postured about sexuality.
It was your ambition to be a successful woman. To have credential, like a science degree, and be known for your opinions. You could argue passionately about foolishness. Yet you drank excessively.
Pam asked for direction, she didn’t know what was in store for her, and you counselled her to embrace death. In your depression, you had found a new way to be the person who others noticed. Pam chose death, but made sure she forgave her father for beating her, and her siblings, and she told you she loved you.
You waited until we were in Australia before announcing you had chosen divorce. You blamed father for the divorce and for Pam’s death. You slept with Pam’s ashes and toys. You got a job and you got your independence.
I was confused with the arrangement you made when the family friend raped me. But you were purposeful immediately following and in the years to come. Sometimes your drinking was so bad you would sweat alcohol for weeks. But you were never rolling drunk, just tipsy.
It was bizarre the way you tried to involve yourself in my social life. You were only interested in sexual things, not friends for me. I didn’t question what you were doing until I left home, at age twenty, and lived in many odd addresses. You used to give my rapist my phone number to call me on my birthday. You used to say you didn’t know better, that he had been father’s friend.
It wasn’t until I finally stopped talking to you altogether that you tried to explain yourself.
You told me I looked like my father. You told me that your father had raped you. You told me you were trying to get me to make a scene in front of my father. You told me that you had bought dogs to replace me. You told me the dogs had died under strange circumstances, strangled by their own leashes inside the house. You told me you bought two new dogs, and a decade later you told me that they had to be killed because they were both dying from cancer. You told me you were drunk. You said you were never drunk. You said you had given up drink. You never once said you had made a mistake. Once, I made the observation you had never apologized for what you had done. You wrote saying you were sorry that I had mistreated you by not talking to you.
You manipulated others easily, unrepentantly. Even last Christmas, when Cathy had come to Australia, you wrote to me to assure me that she would not have the time to see me because I would not speak to you.
=== ===
When I was growing up, you missed me. You didn’t see how I’d learned from your atheist message, or how it transformed.
I was eighteen, still living at home. Working at a restaurant in the city and going to university. Everything was disconnected for me. It took me two hours to get from home to University. It took me two hours to get from work to home. It took me two hours to get from home to my friend’s place. We didn’t live in an exclusive neighbourhood, but public transport is that bad in Sydney. I met this girl on campus on my first day of lectures and she seemed perfect to me, everything in one place. She was smart, she had friends and she seemed to like strays. She told me she was a Christian and it confused me, because I didn’t see how a person could be an idiot (as I assumed Christians were) and yet be so blessed. I knew why I wasn’t a Christian, I didn’t know why she was.
Ignoring the claims of Christianity, for a moment, I considered the philosophical issue of a creator for the universe and I knew it to be absurd. The impossible question “Can god build a ditch so wide he couldn’t build a bridge to cross it?” One of those two problems had to be the case and so god could not exist. The girl told me of the four steps to knowing God personally, sidestepping the logical fallacy issues and addressing a different issue. She invited me to a talk on Christianity by the author John John (or as he preferred to be known, J John). I found myself face to face with a smart person who knew of the logical fallacies, but addressed the issue of a ‘relational god.” He pointed out that the logical fallacy did not prove nor disprove god. He also pointed out that the Christian God never made those claims that were part of those logical fallacies.
Twenty four years later, I still recall the four steps, but I don’t think of them in separate terms.
• God is god, the creator from whom mankind is in his image.
• God is the father of Jesus (cf Trinity)
• Jesus died for us
• Jesus rose from the dead.
• People are not god like, but sinful.
• People can be forgiven their sin by prayer.
I don’t actually remember them as four steps. I found myself resistant to the ideas at each step, but also seeing ways I could evaluate their value and truthfulness without resorting to the logical fallacies that didn’t apply.
Other questions came up, like the one about pain. “If God exists, why is there pain?”
What I had discovered is that the very questions which underpin those who question the value of Christianity, support those who are Christian.
Instead of thinking of heaven and hell as places people go to, instead, a Christian tends to relate them in terms of proximity to God.
I began to see how foolish and irrelevant the questions were that denied God. How argumentative. I didn’t need to embrace creationism or some fad faux science to be a Christian, I could accept the universe as it was and as it unfolded.
When I began to read the bible in terms of it being an inspired document to do with man’s relationship with God, and not as a recipe for making rockets and stars, then I found I could make my universe a happy one. I am no longer subject to all of the stresses and strains of which I’m not responsible. Instead, I find I can act responsibly and feel satisfied I have done my best.
But now I remember you cannot. You are trapped. A victim to circumstance you do not control. You can, as Cyrano De Bergerac, rail against unreason and embrace romance and gloriously lose. It seems strange to me that people who deny god are always captured by demons. Your depression has focused you, so that you have rushed to where you are old, and have no where to go except death.
Maybe you wish it to be so. Your children did not have children, so some day, no one will be around to remember you felt so strongly in support of Vietnam’s communists you marched for them in London and took your oldest daughter in among the tear gas.
I long ago forgave you, but I cannot do anything for you, except to let you know the following. You can accept your forgiveness. You can have the fruit of some of your blessings. You can spend eternity with that daughter who loved you.
You have not been someone I could turn to for help. I am sorry. There is much we might have shared. Regardless of your choices, I forgive you.
Sometimes when I am asked, I reply that you are ill and there is nothing I can do for you. I recognize that sounds strange to the uninitiated, but it has the strength of being true, and so I don’t have to try to remember it if I had told a simple lie. I feel powerless and more than a little frustrated, because I know how you can be helped, but I cannot do that. I don’t have any of those things you recognize as salve for your wounds.
I am forty two years old, and I became a Christian when I was eighteen. It was a profound change for me, and the change has continued throughout my life. Although I am a ridiculous figure, fat and cursed, there is little in me that folk desire, yet people comment on my great strength and determination, and in days gone by, on my sunny disposition. I don’t always feel blessed, but I know I am.
I was raised by you and father to be an atheist. To spot the ridiculous posturings of religion and despise them. I had thought it was your lone claim to reason, I watched and copied as you identified those things people embrace for love and support so that you might reject them.
I remember a friend of yours who tried to get me to smoke a cigarette once, when I was about five years old and we were in a lift, Pam, her and I. I don’t know why she was a friend of yours, you were very anti cigarettes. Maybe she was one of your Democrat friends who struggled to oppose Nixon as he moved to end the war in Vietnam, initiate equal rights legislation and fought poverty through wealth creation. Your friend offered Pam the cigarette, but Pam was too sensible to take it pointing out her medical issues, so I was offered. I thought it a disgusting thing, and hadn’t even considered what was required. Your friend told me that all I had to do was to put the cigarette between my lips and breathe. I realized I didn’t want to breathe in the smoke, so I exhaled and the cigarette burn went quickly to the filter. Your friend retrieved what was left of it, and suggested we try again some time, when I felt ready. But she never did. You said she had died, about six months later, from lung cancer. Maybe she did die, and maybe you chose to break contact with her because she had offered Pam the cigarette.
Pam was two years older than me and very sick. When she was very young you knew she had problems. You had thought they were learning difficulties, at first, but about the time I was born you knew of her kidney disease. John was four years older than me and Cathy, the eldest, was six years older. You had chosen to live separately to father so that he could work for us. But he got a break and we all lived in Princeton after you burned down our house in Leonia.
It was clear that you weren’t satisfied with child raising. Although you felt church was full of bigots, you used to take Pam and me to church for Sunday school. You would sit outside and write letters and Pam would argue with people who would try to interest her in craft activity coloring in Jesus. You stopped me from Karate class, saying I was becoming too violent, but you used to drop me off at YMCA to take a swimming class. You didn’t know that I had been too confused by different instructions from people who didn’t know me so I hid in the change rooms every week for most of a year. You sent me to a camp for soccer, and for singing .. but never found out, never asked, about what happened when I was abused there. One boy with Nazi sympathising parents came over to swim one time and asked me several times to suck his dick and you suggested he visit again. You postured about sexuality.
It was your ambition to be a successful woman. To have credential, like a science degree, and be known for your opinions. You could argue passionately about foolishness. Yet you drank excessively.
Pam asked for direction, she didn’t know what was in store for her, and you counselled her to embrace death. In your depression, you had found a new way to be the person who others noticed. Pam chose death, but made sure she forgave her father for beating her, and her siblings, and she told you she loved you.
You waited until we were in Australia before announcing you had chosen divorce. You blamed father for the divorce and for Pam’s death. You slept with Pam’s ashes and toys. You got a job and you got your independence.
I was confused with the arrangement you made when the family friend raped me. But you were purposeful immediately following and in the years to come. Sometimes your drinking was so bad you would sweat alcohol for weeks. But you were never rolling drunk, just tipsy.
It was bizarre the way you tried to involve yourself in my social life. You were only interested in sexual things, not friends for me. I didn’t question what you were doing until I left home, at age twenty, and lived in many odd addresses. You used to give my rapist my phone number to call me on my birthday. You used to say you didn’t know better, that he had been father’s friend.
It wasn’t until I finally stopped talking to you altogether that you tried to explain yourself.
You told me I looked like my father. You told me that your father had raped you. You told me you were trying to get me to make a scene in front of my father. You told me that you had bought dogs to replace me. You told me the dogs had died under strange circumstances, strangled by their own leashes inside the house. You told me you bought two new dogs, and a decade later you told me that they had to be killed because they were both dying from cancer. You told me you were drunk. You said you were never drunk. You said you had given up drink. You never once said you had made a mistake. Once, I made the observation you had never apologized for what you had done. You wrote saying you were sorry that I had mistreated you by not talking to you.
You manipulated others easily, unrepentantly. Even last Christmas, when Cathy had come to Australia, you wrote to me to assure me that she would not have the time to see me because I would not speak to you.
=== ===
When I was growing up, you missed me. You didn’t see how I’d learned from your atheist message, or how it transformed.
I was eighteen, still living at home. Working at a restaurant in the city and going to university. Everything was disconnected for me. It took me two hours to get from home to University. It took me two hours to get from work to home. It took me two hours to get from home to my friend’s place. We didn’t live in an exclusive neighbourhood, but public transport is that bad in Sydney. I met this girl on campus on my first day of lectures and she seemed perfect to me, everything in one place. She was smart, she had friends and she seemed to like strays. She told me she was a Christian and it confused me, because I didn’t see how a person could be an idiot (as I assumed Christians were) and yet be so blessed. I knew why I wasn’t a Christian, I didn’t know why she was.
Ignoring the claims of Christianity, for a moment, I considered the philosophical issue of a creator for the universe and I knew it to be absurd. The impossible question “Can god build a ditch so wide he couldn’t build a bridge to cross it?” One of those two problems had to be the case and so god could not exist. The girl told me of the four steps to knowing God personally, sidestepping the logical fallacy issues and addressing a different issue. She invited me to a talk on Christianity by the author John John (or as he preferred to be known, J John). I found myself face to face with a smart person who knew of the logical fallacies, but addressed the issue of a ‘relational god.” He pointed out that the logical fallacy did not prove nor disprove god. He also pointed out that the Christian God never made those claims that were part of those logical fallacies.
Twenty four years later, I still recall the four steps, but I don’t think of them in separate terms.
• God is god, the creator from whom mankind is in his image.
• God is the father of Jesus (cf Trinity)
• Jesus died for us
• Jesus rose from the dead.
• People are not god like, but sinful.
• People can be forgiven their sin by prayer.
I don’t actually remember them as four steps. I found myself resistant to the ideas at each step, but also seeing ways I could evaluate their value and truthfulness without resorting to the logical fallacies that didn’t apply.
Other questions came up, like the one about pain. “If God exists, why is there pain?”
What I had discovered is that the very questions which underpin those who question the value of Christianity, support those who are Christian.
Instead of thinking of heaven and hell as places people go to, instead, a Christian tends to relate them in terms of proximity to God.
I began to see how foolish and irrelevant the questions were that denied God. How argumentative. I didn’t need to embrace creationism or some fad faux science to be a Christian, I could accept the universe as it was and as it unfolded.
When I began to read the bible in terms of it being an inspired document to do with man’s relationship with God, and not as a recipe for making rockets and stars, then I found I could make my universe a happy one. I am no longer subject to all of the stresses and strains of which I’m not responsible. Instead, I find I can act responsibly and feel satisfied I have done my best.
But now I remember you cannot. You are trapped. A victim to circumstance you do not control. You can, as Cyrano De Bergerac, rail against unreason and embrace romance and gloriously lose. It seems strange to me that people who deny god are always captured by demons. Your depression has focused you, so that you have rushed to where you are old, and have no where to go except death.
Maybe you wish it to be so. Your children did not have children, so some day, no one will be around to remember you felt so strongly in support of Vietnam’s communists you marched for them in London and took your oldest daughter in among the tear gas.
I long ago forgave you, but I cannot do anything for you, except to let you know the following. You can accept your forgiveness. You can have the fruit of some of your blessings. You can spend eternity with that daughter who loved you.
You have not been someone I could turn to for help. I am sorry. There is much we might have shared. Regardless of your choices, I forgive you.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
A message from an old student .. not that old, yet
man, it is really good to hear from you, some people have told me that you commited suicide, i didnt like that message. i'd just like to know if you actually do remember me, im in year 10 this year so yeah. and also if it isnt too much trouble why did you leave school?
===
Apparently some in the staff at my school thought it funny to spread the rumor of my suicide. They really are special people that I worked alongside of for thirteen years.
===
I remembered the student, of course .. even confiscated his rubik's cube a few times. Once, when I didn't, kids asked me why. I said it was because I liked him, and he remembered that. Funny thing was that it was because he did his work .. usually .. and he was a kid, unlike some of those classroom monsters who were harassing the girls for sex (in year 7!!)
===
Apparently some in the staff at my school thought it funny to spread the rumor of my suicide. They really are special people that I worked alongside of for thirteen years.
===
I remembered the student, of course .. even confiscated his rubik's cube a few times. Once, when I didn't, kids asked me why. I said it was because I liked him, and he remembered that. Funny thing was that it was because he did his work .. usually .. and he was a kid, unlike some of those classroom monsters who were harassing the girls for sex (in year 7!!)
Monday, December 1, 2008
About the boy who died
Timeline of events;
1992, A PE teacher is seen inappropriately touching year 8 school girls outside the Principal's office by multiple teachers who agree to turn a blind eye at Campbelltown HS
1993 A year 8 class of girls complain about their change room being invaded while they change. Principal claims no knowledge, but has entire class placed on detention underneath the alleged abuser, who claims he has to walk into the girls change rooms or they fight. He also claims he has a deal with the Principal.
1994, Principal decides I am surplus to school needs. Promotes PE teacher to year adviser of year 9.
1994, Transferred to Principal's old school of Bass Hill, which is losing numbers. Transferred to Canley Vale HS
1996, Approach Hurlstone AHS for Border Tutor position. Richard Purves looks at my belly and refuses.
1997 Approach Hurlstone again and am accepted by Joe Barea, who is pushed aside by Richard Purves.
1998 New Head Teacher Mathematics at Canley Vale HS, Helen Best. Richard Purves starts me on probation at Hurlstone. Richard claims he is concerned I'm too fat to do my job.
1999, NSW Dept of Ed. investigators call me to apologise for what they wrote to me. I get a letter from them saying that no child was raped at Campbelltown PAHS, which is code for saying graduating students didn't want to complain. I'm invited to transfer to Hurlstone but the invitation is withdrawn when Campbelltown Head Teacher of Maths meets the Hurlstone HT Maths.
2000, Richard Purves transfers my accommodation to New Block, and then declares it is uninhabitable. I am placed in the staff common room during the Olympics and the Olympic Roads Traffic Authority is given 24 hour access to my belongings and facilities.
2001 My accommodation is again declared uninhabitable. I am allowed to work at Hurlstone as a boarder tutor who doesn't reside there. One evening I meet a year 8 boy named Hamidur Rahman. He tells me of his peanut allergy over dinner. I inform the school through the head teacher welfare (Richard Purves) and Deputy Principal Joe Murray. Both threaten me with legal action if I discuss the boy's health issues with the public. I follow up with Hamidur and he promises to not give up. I am never hired to work at Hurlstone again.
2002, I buy a unit in Carramar. Hamidur dies on camp. Canley Vale HS Principal meets with Hurlstone AHS Principal and decides I am too fat to teach Maths. I am referred to Healthquest, and offered disability which I decline. Education Department calls me to say that they will ignore me as they felt I was a vexatious complainant. The legal officer claims it s because of the boy who died.
2003 New Canley Vale Principal promises to not continue any abuse I claim to have suffered from previous. I begin blogging.
2004 I take long service leave and write my autobiography. I write some 50k words a month.I am treated for sleep apnea, rated a cure.
2005 I decline going to a 20th anniversary school reunion. Philip Berry who was a senior legal adviser to the NSW Premier, and a former school friend, corresponded.
2006 A new Fairfield Director of schools is appointed by special deal. The old one goes to Hurlstone's area and the new one comes from there. He is Bruce Sander, a colleague from my first school James Meehan. I try to schedule an appointment with him, but he is shouldered aside by another, James Colebourne. Colebourne sees me and orders me to delete my blogs which contain any references to school children. He claims the authority from the 2004 NSW Teacher's code of conduct, which Philip claimed to draft. James meets three times with me, securing my deletion of all my blogs, but not my music.
2007, I wait for state election, hoping to deal with new government. ALP reelected and Della Bosca is made Education Minister. I threaten to resign. I ask him to intercede in my case. He claims he doesn't see a problem. Today Tonight say they are willing to work with me if I resign. I contact Tripodi. I tell Tripodi of my media contacts, including Today Tonight who back out. I resign and discover there is no evidence of my citizenship because Bob Carr ordered it destroyed when he removed criminalisation of voters who didn't. ICAC uninterested in case, claiming they don't think they can secure a conviction. Legal Aide won't help because I'm not Aboriginal.
2008 I become a citizen of Australia (again). I am not hired casually although many jobs are available.
2011 I write a letter to the Coroner. Police ask questions. They don't contradict anything I claim, but assert Hurlstone never knew about Hamidur's allergy.
There is no impediment to my working. No one will hire me.
===
Update December 12th 2011
After 4 and a half years of campaigning I have exhausted every avenue of appeal. The last to hear me was the coroner's court of NSW which delegated the issue to 2 Fairfield detectives. The two detectives clearly did not understand the issues. They did not challenge any of my testimony, but claimed at interview it was thin without specifying how it might be challenged. Then they declared through the coroner that they had found no evidence that Hurlstone had ever been warned of the allergy. They ignored my testimony and left every element unchallenged. They listened to my testimony after first asking me to accept their findings. They claimed I could submit anything but because they didn't challenge anything before later declaring it insufficient I now have no pathway for appeal. I have no job and no opportunity to gain employment in my field as my abusers are still in position and have never been challenged over their actions.
As a Christian it is my duty to forgive my abusers. I have done so, although I find that very challenging as they are not Christian themselves and do not acknowledge their abuse, but have threatened me on a number of occasions and even bragged about what they have done.
===
Hamidur Rahman
A Sydney teacher in charge of a peanut butter challenge at a school camp realised a student had gone into anaphylactic shock soon after eating the spread, an inquest was told today.
Hamidur Rahman, 13, who had a serious allergy to peanuts, was dared to eat a single mouthful of peanut butter during a camp trivia game challenge on March 20, 2002.
Hamidur, who was among 140 year 8 students on excursion from Hurlstone Agricultural High School to Yanco in south-western NSW, suffered a fatal anaphylactic reaction after eating the peanut butter.
===
Update Item number 2292
Questions by Marie Ficarra MLC of the NSW govt.
1) Does the former Minister for Education Mr John Della Bosca acknowledge that on the 6th of April 2007, he received a letter from a former teacher of Hurlestone Agricultural High School regarding possible negligence in the death of Hamidur Rahman?
2) Can Mr Della Bosca affirm to this house that this allegation was duly investigated given the gravity of the case?
3) What steps has the Department of Education taken in liasing with Mr David Daniel Ball and his concerns for the Rahman family.
===
A public servant with information about Hamidur's death appropriately reported the information to the authorities and was harassed out of public service for it and threatened by two government ministers. The teacher had reported the matter of the child's condition to the head teacher welfare (boys) and the deputy principal a year in advance of the death. The public servant was silenced, threatened and sacked. The public servant was assured that staff had been informed of the condition. Clearly they hadn't. Clearly the responsible staff members were held back from the inquiry. Later, when the reporting public servant responsibly reported on the matter, a law was changed and the harassment escalated.
===
In reply, the following
I am advised that the Department of Education and Training has no record of a letter from a former teacher of Hurlstone Agricultural High School to Minister Della Bosca dated 6 April 2007 relating to this matter, but that an unsigned, undated message to Minister Della Bosca from a former teacher of Canley Vale High School, who also worked after school hours as a supervisor or tutor in the boarding school at Hurlstone Agricultural High School in 2001, was received by Minister Della Bosca, apparently some time in April 2007.
The Department has assumed that this is the teacher referred to in the Member's question. Two phone calls to the Member's office to verify this assumption were not returned.
I am also advised that Minister Della Bosca received a second copy of the letter as one of a number of documents sent by that teacher's local Member, who made representations to the Minister on his behalf. Allegations relating to possible negligence by staff at Hurlstone Agricultural High School were contained in the message, in addition to a range of other matters. The former teacher alleged that the school should have held, but did not hold, information about an unidentified student's allergies.
The tragic death by anaphylaxis of a student of Hurlstone Agricultural High School in March 2002 was the subject of a Coronial Inquiry conducted by Senior Deputy State Coroner Milledge. She delivered her findings on 9 September 2005. The recommendations of the Coronial Inquiry have been closely examined by the Department of Education and Training, NSW Health, non-government schools and other organisations as part of a Coronial Taskforce chaired by the Chief Health Officer. As a consequence, many changes to the management of food allergies were introduced from 2006 onwards and have become a standard part of Departmental policy and practice.
I am advised that the letter from the former teacher in April 2007 was provided 18 months after the conclusion of the inquest. The information appears not to relate to the boy who died, as it describes an event that occurred in the dining hall of the boarding house in 2001. That is, it appears to relate to a boarding student, while the boy who died was a day student.
I am advised that an extensive phone interview was conducted with the former teacher by a Chief Investigator of the Department's Employment Performance and Conduct Directorate on 19 April 2007. On being interviewed about the allegation by the Department, the former teacher indicated he did not know whether it was the same student.
The Department's legal advisers have formed the view that the information provided by the former teacher appears to be of little relevance to the matters determined by the Coroner.
I am advised that a Chief Investigator of the Department's Employment Performance and Conduct Directorate conducted an extensive phone interview with the former teacher on 19 April 2007, and that Minister Della Bosca later responded to representations by the former teacher's local Member, providing details of a contact officer should the former teacher wish to discuss matters further.
I am advised that the knowledge by staff at the school of the former student's allergy to peanuts was a matter extensively examined by the Coronial Inquiry. The findings of the Senior Deputy State Coroner were published on 9 September 2005.
===
A possible reply to the Government
Hamidur Rahman may have been a day student. All students are required to spend time in the boarding school in year 7.
Hamidur was in the boarding school when I met him as a casual boarder tutor supervisor.
There was no extensive phone interview, but there was a short phone call in which questions were restricted to items and yes/no replies were mainly what were accepted.
My certainty as to wether or not it was hamidur is not relevant .. it was certainly to do with peanut allergy.
The minister's response was to refer me to a departmental officer I had named as an abuser of me.
I wasn't present when the incident had occurred, and a departmental officer had advised me that the department would not talk to me as a result of the death of the boy .. prior to the coronial investigation publishing a report.
===
Update.
It turns out that the reason David has worked only five days out of 50 for the last school term is because he has been black listed by the same man he was referred to by Della Bosca. The figure could not have blacklisted David on his own authority .. and Della Bosca is claiming that he was a random draw .. maybe Della Bosca needs to find out who has been acting illegally in his name?
===
update
A youtube posting on my issue. I realize, after having made it, that I neglected to mention that Della Bosca did not investigate while he waited 6 to 8 weeks to time me out of IR court .. and then threatened me by referring me to an abuser.
An open letter to the Premier
More can be found at Ben's story
Facebook page for Justice for Hamidur Rahman
First person autobiography excerpts start here.
===
In a related similar incident in Victoria.
===
In related news,
ALMOST every teacher has been bullied by a colleague, a research study found.
===
The teacher responsible for advising staff to use peanut butter as a reward item, and who was head teacher welfare for boys when Hamidur died, posted these thoughts ..
"Richard Purves - Teacher 1978 - present
After 4 and a half years of campaigning I have exhausted every avenue of appeal. The last to hear me was the coroner's court of NSW which delegated the issue to 2 Fairfield detectives. The two detectives clearly did not understand the issues. They did not challenge any of my testimony, but claimed at interview it was thin without specifying how it might be challenged. Then they declared through the coroner that they had found no evidence that Hurlstone had ever been warned of the allergy. They ignored my testimony and left every element unchallenged. They listened to my testimony after first asking me to accept their findings. They claimed I could submit anything but because they didn't challenge anything before later declaring it insufficient I now have no pathway for appeal. I have no job and no opportunity to gain employment in my field as my abusers are still in position and have never been challenged over their actions.
As a Christian it is my duty to forgive my abusers. I have done so, although I find that very challenging as they are not Christian themselves and do not acknowledge their abuse, but have threatened me on a number of occasions and even bragged about what they have done.
===
Hamidur Rahman
A Sydney teacher in charge of a peanut butter challenge at a school camp realised a student had gone into anaphylactic shock soon after eating the spread, an inquest was told today.
Hamidur Rahman, 13, who had a serious allergy to peanuts, was dared to eat a single mouthful of peanut butter during a camp trivia game challenge on March 20, 2002.
Hamidur, who was among 140 year 8 students on excursion from Hurlstone Agricultural High School to Yanco in south-western NSW, suffered a fatal anaphylactic reaction after eating the peanut butter.
===
Update Item number 2292
Questions by Marie Ficarra MLC of the NSW govt.
1) Does the former Minister for Education Mr John Della Bosca acknowledge that on the 6th of April 2007, he received a letter from a former teacher of Hurlestone Agricultural High School regarding possible negligence in the death of Hamidur Rahman?
2) Can Mr Della Bosca affirm to this house that this allegation was duly investigated given the gravity of the case?
3) What steps has the Department of Education taken in liasing with Mr David Daniel Ball and his concerns for the Rahman family.
===
A public servant with information about Hamidur's death appropriately reported the information to the authorities and was harassed out of public service for it and threatened by two government ministers. The teacher had reported the matter of the child's condition to the head teacher welfare (boys) and the deputy principal a year in advance of the death. The public servant was silenced, threatened and sacked. The public servant was assured that staff had been informed of the condition. Clearly they hadn't. Clearly the responsible staff members were held back from the inquiry. Later, when the reporting public servant responsibly reported on the matter, a law was changed and the harassment escalated.
===
In reply, the following
I am advised that the Department of Education and Training has no record of a letter from a former teacher of Hurlstone Agricultural High School to Minister Della Bosca dated 6 April 2007 relating to this matter, but that an unsigned, undated message to Minister Della Bosca from a former teacher of Canley Vale High School, who also worked after school hours as a supervisor or tutor in the boarding school at Hurlstone Agricultural High School in 2001, was received by Minister Della Bosca, apparently some time in April 2007.
The Department has assumed that this is the teacher referred to in the Member's question. Two phone calls to the Member's office to verify this assumption were not returned.
I am also advised that Minister Della Bosca received a second copy of the letter as one of a number of documents sent by that teacher's local Member, who made representations to the Minister on his behalf. Allegations relating to possible negligence by staff at Hurlstone Agricultural High School were contained in the message, in addition to a range of other matters. The former teacher alleged that the school should have held, but did not hold, information about an unidentified student's allergies.
The tragic death by anaphylaxis of a student of Hurlstone Agricultural High School in March 2002 was the subject of a Coronial Inquiry conducted by Senior Deputy State Coroner Milledge. She delivered her findings on 9 September 2005. The recommendations of the Coronial Inquiry have been closely examined by the Department of Education and Training, NSW Health, non-government schools and other organisations as part of a Coronial Taskforce chaired by the Chief Health Officer. As a consequence, many changes to the management of food allergies were introduced from 2006 onwards and have become a standard part of Departmental policy and practice.
I am advised that the letter from the former teacher in April 2007 was provided 18 months after the conclusion of the inquest. The information appears not to relate to the boy who died, as it describes an event that occurred in the dining hall of the boarding house in 2001. That is, it appears to relate to a boarding student, while the boy who died was a day student.
I am advised that an extensive phone interview was conducted with the former teacher by a Chief Investigator of the Department's Employment Performance and Conduct Directorate on 19 April 2007. On being interviewed about the allegation by the Department, the former teacher indicated he did not know whether it was the same student.
The Department's legal advisers have formed the view that the information provided by the former teacher appears to be of little relevance to the matters determined by the Coroner.
I am advised that a Chief Investigator of the Department's Employment Performance and Conduct Directorate conducted an extensive phone interview with the former teacher on 19 April 2007, and that Minister Della Bosca later responded to representations by the former teacher's local Member, providing details of a contact officer should the former teacher wish to discuss matters further.
I am advised that the knowledge by staff at the school of the former student's allergy to peanuts was a matter extensively examined by the Coronial Inquiry. The findings of the Senior Deputy State Coroner were published on 9 September 2005.
===
A possible reply to the Government
Hamidur Rahman may have been a day student. All students are required to spend time in the boarding school in year 7.
Hamidur was in the boarding school when I met him as a casual boarder tutor supervisor.
There was no extensive phone interview, but there was a short phone call in which questions were restricted to items and yes/no replies were mainly what were accepted.
My certainty as to wether or not it was hamidur is not relevant .. it was certainly to do with peanut allergy.
The minister's response was to refer me to a departmental officer I had named as an abuser of me.
I wasn't present when the incident had occurred, and a departmental officer had advised me that the department would not talk to me as a result of the death of the boy .. prior to the coronial investigation publishing a report.
===
Update.
It turns out that the reason David has worked only five days out of 50 for the last school term is because he has been black listed by the same man he was referred to by Della Bosca. The figure could not have blacklisted David on his own authority .. and Della Bosca is claiming that he was a random draw .. maybe Della Bosca needs to find out who has been acting illegally in his name?
===
update
A youtube posting on my issue. I realize, after having made it, that I neglected to mention that Della Bosca did not investigate while he waited 6 to 8 weeks to time me out of IR court .. and then threatened me by referring me to an abuser.
An open letter to the Premier
More can be found at Ben's story
Facebook page for Justice for Hamidur Rahman
First person autobiography excerpts start here.
===
In a related similar incident in Victoria.
===
In related news,
ALMOST every teacher has been bullied by a colleague, a research study found.
===
The teacher responsible for advising staff to use peanut butter as a reward item, and who was head teacher welfare for boys when Hamidur died, posted these thoughts ..
"Richard Purves - Teacher 1978 - present
I have been here since week 6 of term 1, 1978. I got appointed here when the Minister for Education, Eric Bedford announced that they were going to decrease class sizes for junior high school from 34 to 30 so each school got maybe 1, 2 or 3 new teachers. The principal at the time Reg Clarke decided he needed another history teacher and another social science teacher. So Bob Chapman who was here as a reserve got appointed permanently and I got moved from Crookwell HS where I’d been a reserve for 6 weeks. I got a bit of a shock when I got the appointment because I’d been trying to get back to Sydney Sydney
Leo Curran was the new English/history master and he reassured me, he was only new himself, that no-one made him live in with kids in a room, which was quite an horrific thought. I arrived the following Monday which was one of those things you don’t forget. I was a little bit awed by Reg Clarke from what I’d heard about him, he was on the Board of Studies and one of the most senior principals in the state. I walked into his office he looked at me and said “Where’s your tie?” I said “I don’t wear ties, I don’t have any” and he said “At my school you wear a tie”. So that afternoon I was at Grace Bros at Roselands buying my first ever tie, apart from my own school tie. That was my first memory of the school, apart from seeing over 40 kids being caned at the cottage while I waited to be introduced to staff. People were sending kids out left, right and centre and belting them for not doing their poetry homework and other strange things. It would have them in jail today for hitting kids like that.
Cadets were marching around everywhere, it looked like a military camp. There were so many cadets marching around that it actually gave me a bit of a sense of foreboding that this was a pretty rough, pretty tough sort of a school. I didn’t really have any classes at first because I’d just been appointed as an extra history teacher so I sat around for weeks taking classes of sick people until they split some Year 9 and 10 classes and gave me a Year 9 and Year 10 class. In fact I had so few periods I went around and complained and they said shut up, everyone else has to teach 28 classes. So after a while I was given an English class that someone had got rid of so they could do something else around the school, so I really only had about 18 periods in my first year which was really good.
It was a very rough, tough sort of a school, it was the last year of boys only, in fact the week before I took up the appointment at Hurlstone Mr Bedford, the Minister, had announced Hurlstone was going co-ed the following year. I arrived to find the school in an uproar with the boys and male staff. There was only one female teacher in the whole school, Jenny Llewellyn, in the cottage and an English teacher. The staff and the boys were up in arms about the girls coming the following year which I thought was very strange. I thought most males would like having girls around but rugby was the worry. Rugby teams will be destroyed! We will only have 2 teams instead of six or something like that. In fact there was so much nonsense going on about it going co-ed that it even made Dolly magazine, a short article saying more or less sucked in to the idiot boys and teachers at Hurlstone for complaining about girls. I didn’t read Dolly magazine but my girlfriend at the time did and she pointed it out to me with some amusement. But that’s how much opposition there was to girls coming in the following year. It was quite concerning to a lot of the staff as well as the kids. Reg Clarke left at the end of the year as he wasn’t going to have girls at his school.
Staff smoked all over the place and when I complained I had smoke blown in my face, so there was even a lot of bullying of staff going on. It was very rough if you spoke out of turn at a staff meeting or expressed an opinion. There was a small group of aggressive people who would abuse you and hail you down. So you didn’t really get to say much on things. It was I thought a very demeaning environment the ways kids and staff were treated. The bullying was overt and practised everywhere. I wasn’t very happy here in my first year.
The girls coming changed things it was really a breath of fresh air. I noticed I had a Year 8 class in my first year here and we were doing some work on Ancient Egypt and one of the slides I showed them (we used a slide machine in those days) had a picture of some women with their breasts uncovered and the boys were giggling and I pointed out that the slave girls had their breasts uncovered and this would have been fairly normal. The boys were giggling at the word breasts, the immaturity was amazing. A couple of years later I taught the same lesson, this time there was no reaction at all with boys and girls in the same class. So yes the boys were very immature about girls and sex or anything like that.
Once the girls arrived the place started to settle down. They had to have female staff to live in because they were going to have female students. The department decided to make Year 7, as far as possible, half boys and half girls beginning the following year and every vacancy in Years 9, 10 & 11 would be filled by a girl. For some reason Yr 8 that following year wasn’t but every vacancy in 9, 10 & 11 was filled by girls. So we suddenly had in Yr 9 or 10 maybe one or 2 girls in the class. In Year 11 they admitted about 20 girls so you had 2 or 3 girls in each class. So it was a very strange situation in my first year with just boys and a few girls the following year.
The girls made a difference, I found the boys settled down a lot. Having female staff around the place meant that staff couldn’t swear and abuse kids and say things like “I’ll smash your face in if you say that again” or “Do you want a clip across the ear?” because you really couldn’t say that to girls.
The boarding school was still pretty rough. One of the staff in the cottage told me my hair would stand on its head if I knew what was going on in the boarding school in terms of violence. I had no interest in living in the whole concept appalled me what with the violence that was going on. In my second year I had a Year 7 class, it was the first co-ed year and I had a really nice boy from Narromine, I can’t remember his name, he told me he had been beaten up in the showers and had one of his teeth broken so I reported it and later that day a staff member walked past me and said “Oh, you’re stirring up trouble in the boarding school I’m told”, so trying to protect a 12 year old boy from being beaten up in the showers and that was stirring up trouble. I was pretty disgusted with the attitude.
A practice called Preference went on, that was everyone older than you in the boarding school could order you around and virtually treat you like a slave. So Year 12 would send kids over the line to do their shopping and other things then smack them in the head if they looked sideways and if you failed BI (bed inspection) in the morning you got 4 cuts of the cane automatically and that was with the prefects failing you and the staff were told that they had to belt them whenever the prefects wanted them belted. I didn’t do any boarding school duty until my 3rd year when I was told I had to, but I refused to cane year 7 kids just because they had creases in their sheets. The prefects put in complaints about me and I was told that the Principal would get rid of me from the school if I didn’t belt everyone that the prefects wanted belted for failing minor things like having a crease in their sheets.
The violence continued in the boarding school unabated for some time. You even had some staff (this is probably controversial) in the mornings boasting about how many kids they’d hit the night before. One staff member I remember clearly boasting he’d caned all of Wentworth the night before, everyone in Wentworth Yrs 7-12. It slowed down a little bit as more and more girls came into the school and it ended up being closer to 50/50 boys and girls but that took about a decade. There wasn’t a lot of information in the community that the school was co-ed so without that publicity a lot of parents didn’t know you could send girls here. At first it was about 75/25 boys to girls then 60/40 then eventually it got to 50/50 and that slowed it down a bit. It was only the abolition of the cane at the end of 1995 by the then minister Rod Cavalier that stopped a lot of this violence that was going on here.
It appalled me that when boys were sent out of prep you were told to give them 4 cuts of the cane and the first time I did duty staff told me to make sure I belted them as hard as I could and make them cry as far as possible because they would consider me to be a sook and a wimp if I didn’t hit them hard enough. Boys who wanted to build their numbers up, to win the competition for the most cuts of the cane in their year group, would get sent out of prep, do everything wrong when a staff member on duty was considered to be a weak caner. Some staff had reputations as being weak caners so they always had this problem. Others had the reputation of leaving black marks across your hand that were there for 3 months and so no-one was in trouble when they were on duty.
I’m not joking, I actually saw marks on hands that were still there 3 months later, black marks on kids hands from where they were hit with the cane. Everyone caned happily and every problem was solved using a cane. When I put some kids on detention for boarding school offences I remember quite clearly a big blond Year 9 boy saying to me “People will hate you if you do that you know, just belt us and get it over with, no-one wants to be on detention. Caning gets rid of the problem immediately” and I said “No I didn’t think it was appropriate”. I was told everyone will hate you for this. That was what you were threatened with, people/kids would hate you if you didn’t hurt them. Now to me that’s a sick society so it needed a circuit breaker which Mr Cavalier provided and I found I was
coerced by the system like everyone else because I was simply told a belting would solve any problem. But it did get better after that."
===
My father's old friend .. Ray Debus ..
Ray has nothing to do with my issue .. but he is connected to Education as a researcher .. and knew me when I was young
===
My father's old friend .. Ray Debus ..
Ray has nothing to do with my issue .. but he is connected to Education as a researcher .. and knew me when I was young
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
For JACK
I apologize for not being there. I meant to be. I had promised to be. I chose not to be.
It wasn’t your fault, and I am sorry if others have given you to believe it may have been. I can explain myself now, as I couldn’t then. You might choose to ignore the explanation, or not. You have my permission to do as you will. Know that I wish you well.
I lied when I said why I was leaving the school. I was being harassed and my students were being used and abused to get to me. None of my students lives were threatened, but there was a tragic twist in which a former student of mine, Hamidur Rahman at another school, died from neglect related to my abusers. With you, I had done what I normally do with students where I work. I shared books, like ‘Watership Down’ and mentored, which is to say that I made myself available to you in a number of ways to help with your schooling. When I became aware that my abusers were targeting students I had mentored, I felt I was left with no choice but to leave. I was only aware of the worst after I left.
Unrelated to you was my decision when I first started teaching to report a teacher to school authorities who was abusing children. The school did not know how to respond to the issue, and felt the best way they could deal with it was to transfer me to another school. I do not know what became of that teacher, and do not care, so long as they are not involved with children.
My actions caused some jealousy among former colleagues who were probably embarrassed that they had turned a blind eye. I was badmouthed then, by those colleagues. That would have been the end of the matter. I was at a new school, then I went to another school. But the teaching community is small.
I was working during the day at your school, and at night I was tutoring at another school. The school where I was tutoring wanted me because I mentored students. But when I applied for transfer there was an unfortunate meeting between my old head teacher and the new one, and my tutoring school changed their mind about me, and tried to have me sacked. I didn’t give them reason, but they found a way to get rid of me. I discovered Hamidur’s allergy shortly before they got rid of me. I told them and they threatened to have me sued for discussing a child’s medical condition. They assured me that the child was safe, and staff told. In fact, they never told staff and a year later the boy died because the staff had not been told.
I later discovered that it was my head teacher at your school that had badmouthed me to my tutor school. The result of what was said was that the boy died. I do not know what was said, but can guess.
Meanwhile, I was being abused at your school. When I referred students to my head teacher, they were coming back worse because my head teacher seemed to be trying to make an allegation against me. They had me referred to a specialist unit to see if I was too fat to teach math. They failed at that last, but they kept trying, resetting a year 12 general test in 2005, and remarking a year 12 trial test in 2006 .. with the result that kids in my class got fewer marks than kids in other classes for the same questions with similar answers.
When a year 7 girl was humiliated for no other reason than that she was in my class .. and so she left the school for a private school, I took action. I asked the department of education to put a stop to the harassment. They would do nothing. I approached the minister of education and he said he could do nothing. Resignation was my only option for speaking out, but it also meant that you would not be targeted.
I don’t know how you were approached, or spoken to. I was told to not work with you. In approaching the police, recently, I have allowed myself to approach the press and tell my story. So I am now free to tell you, too. You might have been ignorant of this, you might not. I don’t wish to intrude further on your life than I should, but I could not leave this alone, either. I am not asking for a response from you. I wish you well. And, JACK, everyone knows who you are, what the promotion (vandalism) was .. I wish you well.
It wasn’t your fault, and I am sorry if others have given you to believe it may have been. I can explain myself now, as I couldn’t then. You might choose to ignore the explanation, or not. You have my permission to do as you will. Know that I wish you well.
I lied when I said why I was leaving the school. I was being harassed and my students were being used and abused to get to me. None of my students lives were threatened, but there was a tragic twist in which a former student of mine, Hamidur Rahman at another school, died from neglect related to my abusers. With you, I had done what I normally do with students where I work. I shared books, like ‘Watership Down’ and mentored, which is to say that I made myself available to you in a number of ways to help with your schooling. When I became aware that my abusers were targeting students I had mentored, I felt I was left with no choice but to leave. I was only aware of the worst after I left.
Unrelated to you was my decision when I first started teaching to report a teacher to school authorities who was abusing children. The school did not know how to respond to the issue, and felt the best way they could deal with it was to transfer me to another school. I do not know what became of that teacher, and do not care, so long as they are not involved with children.
My actions caused some jealousy among former colleagues who were probably embarrassed that they had turned a blind eye. I was badmouthed then, by those colleagues. That would have been the end of the matter. I was at a new school, then I went to another school. But the teaching community is small.
I was working during the day at your school, and at night I was tutoring at another school. The school where I was tutoring wanted me because I mentored students. But when I applied for transfer there was an unfortunate meeting between my old head teacher and the new one, and my tutoring school changed their mind about me, and tried to have me sacked. I didn’t give them reason, but they found a way to get rid of me. I discovered Hamidur’s allergy shortly before they got rid of me. I told them and they threatened to have me sued for discussing a child’s medical condition. They assured me that the child was safe, and staff told. In fact, they never told staff and a year later the boy died because the staff had not been told.
I later discovered that it was my head teacher at your school that had badmouthed me to my tutor school. The result of what was said was that the boy died. I do not know what was said, but can guess.
Meanwhile, I was being abused at your school. When I referred students to my head teacher, they were coming back worse because my head teacher seemed to be trying to make an allegation against me. They had me referred to a specialist unit to see if I was too fat to teach math. They failed at that last, but they kept trying, resetting a year 12 general test in 2005, and remarking a year 12 trial test in 2006 .. with the result that kids in my class got fewer marks than kids in other classes for the same questions with similar answers.
When a year 7 girl was humiliated for no other reason than that she was in my class .. and so she left the school for a private school, I took action. I asked the department of education to put a stop to the harassment. They would do nothing. I approached the minister of education and he said he could do nothing. Resignation was my only option for speaking out, but it also meant that you would not be targeted.
I don’t know how you were approached, or spoken to. I was told to not work with you. In approaching the police, recently, I have allowed myself to approach the press and tell my story. So I am now free to tell you, too. You might have been ignorant of this, you might not. I don’t wish to intrude further on your life than I should, but I could not leave this alone, either. I am not asking for a response from you. I wish you well. And, JACK, everyone knows who you are, what the promotion (vandalism) was .. I wish you well.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Encouragement for a Former Student
There is no such thing as a satisfying degree in terms of study. Study is not natural. One embarks on a course of study with an idea, a vision, of what one wants to do, to achieve. But no one knows what it is that will actually happen.
You can still enjoy what you do, but you shouldn't expect plain sailing. Your vision may still be achieved, but it probably won't match exactly what you had once thought.
I love teaching. I love psychology too. Neither is what you might think it is. I don't know how it might be that you might transfer. I suspect you can get course credit and not have to do every year for the entire B.Ed. course, but four years is a long time, and then you will probably find it isn't any better than your initial choice.
If you complete your current degree, you can do an M. Teach. You might even be able to get a scholarship.
I firmly believe, from experience and observation, that changing course is rarely worthwhile. Your dream will be spoiled again and again, but you can hold those broken fragments (not too tightly) and see your way to the end. The future is also more richly rewarding than what you know or guess.
You can still enjoy what you do, but you shouldn't expect plain sailing. Your vision may still be achieved, but it probably won't match exactly what you had once thought.
I love teaching. I love psychology too. Neither is what you might think it is. I don't know how it might be that you might transfer. I suspect you can get course credit and not have to do every year for the entire B.Ed. course, but four years is a long time, and then you will probably find it isn't any better than your initial choice.
If you complete your current degree, you can do an M. Teach. You might even be able to get a scholarship.
I firmly believe, from experience and observation, that changing course is rarely worthwhile. Your dream will be spoiled again and again, but you can hold those broken fragments (not too tightly) and see your way to the end. The future is also more richly rewarding than what you know or guess.
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