The Weeds

Is it possible that Mr. Davis developed feelings for me after I had graduated and turned 18?

This is a question I have asked myself repeatedly as I processed my past with Mr. Davis. The pursuit of an answer to this was maddening. For each answer, a new question would surface. “It is okay if the feelings truly only developed after graduation.” But then, “If that is true, how can we determine those feelings did not exist previously?” I would decide, “If an appropriate amount of time has passed, this is okay.” Then ask, “But what is that amount of time, and how can we guarantee that the power dynamic is no longer at play?” I spiraled on these things until I felt truly insane. Eventually, I learned to accept that I would never receive an answer. Largely, this is why I never spoke publicly about what happened to me. If I could not determine with confidence that I had been wronged, I could not expect anyone to understand my feelings. 

I have seen teacher-student relationships discussed, but never like mine. When a teacher acts on their feelings while the child is a minor, they are charged criminally. In some states, grooming itself can be a criminal offense with or without the presence of sexual assault. When a teacher is charged, we publicize it. For a time, we comment on the immorality, the evil, of the abuser. We can unite on this because we all agree that it is wrong. 

But what about me?

This is always the question that pulls at me when I see this. My heart hurts for those children because I know how they feel. Yet, I wonder if I have the right to equate my experience with theirs in any way. I was never touched by this man, and his feelings were never explicitly stated until I was nineteen. I was, by law, an adult. 

What I have learned, as I have grown, is that following the path of my questions led only to thick, bristling foliage. Weeds. The questions I had asked were distractions. They pulled resources and killed the chance of accountability. Today, I want to begin weeding. In a series of posts, perhaps consecutively, perhaps sporadically, I will shed light on the distracting questions that are preventing us, as a society, from holding people in power accountable. 

Would this be okay if Mr. Davis’s feelings developed after I had graduated and turned 18?

This question once seemed important, but I know now that it is just a weed. I have spent far too much time distracted by this. All those years ago, in 2015, Mr. Davis assured me that he never saw me “this way” while I was a student. I wanted to believe that. I thought it would be okay if that was true. Maybe he did too. Perhaps this is how he justified it…So, what gave me the right to call myself a victim?

Before I published my book, I decided I should report Mr. Davis’s behavior. This decision came as a result of finally accepting that the behavior was unethical. As a teacher myself, this became clearer every day. When I began to approach the age he was at the time, I realized the power I held. I recognized my youth in a way I had never accepted at the time. As a mother, I felt a need to protect other children. I did a quick search on his teaching license (yup, you can do that). When I saw it was active, I dialed the board of education.  

When the man on the other end answered, I sputtered. Through shaky breaths and choppy syntax, I expressed that I was not sure what to do about my situation. I gave only the facts. I had a teacher for seven years. When I was 19, he expressed feelings for me and a desire to capitalize on those feelings. I did not provide a school district or a name. I wanted to be assured that action would be taken before providing identifying features. I was so scared of being laughed at and turned away. What happened… was not worse. But, it was not better either. 

The man on the other line took a long breath before responding. “I don’t know what to do with that.” Me either, man. It was discouraging. We stayed on the line for a while, discussing the possibilities. Mostly, I listened to this man apologize, saying over and over, “I’m sorry.” 

After that call, I felt angry. Not at that man, but at the system as a whole. It was frustrating, not because this man did not know what to do, but because there was nothing for him to do. There is no protocol for this offense. There is no boundary. There is no accountability because the weeds act as a barrier. They prevent us from moving forward. Until we start to clear away the weeds, we cannot see the path ahead. 

It does not matter when his feelings developed. Mr. Davis was responsible for his actions. 

This is the truth. When we entrust a teacher with our children, we are trusting that they will not capitalize on that power. A turned tassel does not dissolve years of authority. As much as I had wished to be his equal, I was not. I wasn’t even close. I was an adult by law, but would always be the child he knew. 

What do we do with this? I don’t know, but I think we should start by talking about it. Talk about boundaries, talk about accountability. Let’s invite others to hold teachers accountable, beyond graduation. I am not sure where the line belongs, but I think “18 and graduated” is not nearly enough. When a teacher waits until that line is gone to act, they avoid consequence. We want to believe these things are easy to catch, but this is untrue. There is no way to know the extent of this offense because these paths evade accountability. 

Silence gives power to those who seek to go undetected. This is why I am making noise. The noise I choose to make now is not another weed, but a seed. I hope this seed will grow into real, lasting change.

With love,

Mary Beth