Editorial: Tragedy of the teaching profession

Few items of news have been sadder than the plight of Kapiti Coast schoolteacher Mike Neville after his acquittal last week on four charges of indecent assault of pupils. Not much of the case can be discussed since the names of the complainants and the school have been suppressed, but the jury's verdict speaks for itself. Mr Neville has been through an 18-month ordeal of allegations, police investigation, prosecution and the long wait for the hearing that has cleared him. Despite it all he remains dedicated to teaching and determined to return to his job, though the primary teachers' union, which has supported him throughout, sounds less than confident that he can.

His case illustrates the tragedy of a profession that desperately needs more men yet has to treat them with suspicion. The invidious position of male teachers in primary schools these days was well-described by educationist Alison Jones in the Herald yesterday.

Their union, the New Zealand Educational Institute, advises them for their own legal safety to be visible at all times they might be alone with children. They should ensure doors have glass panels or are left open and even install mirrors in the classroom if necessary to ensure they are always in others' line of sight.

They are advised to avoid touching a child in any way. Male teachers are wary now about permitting a child to run to them and take their hand, and must be careful even about giving a comforting hug to a child who is upset. Those normal and harmless dimensions of interacting with children are now safely available only to female teachers. Every male in the profession is treated with suspicion and the care they must take to be visible and non-physical at all times tells them constantly that they are not trusted. Who would want to work under that sort of suspicion and surveillance? In the circumstances it is a wonder the primary service recruits any men at all.

The climate of suspicion can only increase the risk of unwarranted accusations. As Alison Jones explained, the need for a constant witness is a highly unpredictable precaution. The "process of invigilation" means observers are encouraged to treat male teachers as potential abusers who might offend unless they are watched. And to keep an eye on someone for that purpose increases the risk that innocent behaviour will be misinterpreted. In addition, she said, children who sense that male teachers are anxious about touch "learn they have a lot of power in speaking about touch. It is, they sense, a weapon against adults, whose potency they do not always understand".

If all of this makes primary schools a dangerous place for men, so be it, say those who investigate and prosecute suspected child abuse. They will say, quite rightly, that the protection of children is more important than making primary teaching more attractive to men and more important even than the risk that the occasional teacher might be unfairly accused. But extreme vigilance is contributing to a larger problem. Of more than 25,000 teachers in New Zealand's primary schools today, fewer than 4800 are male and of those almost 1200 are principals. There are just 3600 male teachers in front of a class.

About a third of the children in those schools will have no adult male in their home either. Many children nowadays are growing up entirely under female care and tutelage and it being suggested that, for boys anyway, this is a problem. It is one theory offered to explain the poor relative performance of boys in secondary school these days.

Be that as it may, it is undisputed that children benefit from healthy interaction with both men and women. There must be a way for education to keep paedophiles out of the schoolgrounds without regarding every male teacher as a potential criminal. This extreme vigilance is doing no good for the profession or the pupils.