Raped by Her Teacher 37 Years Ago, a Lawyer Tells Her Story
This essay has been shared on Facebook, first within the FB of Cold Spring Harbor High School alumni, and gradually elsewhere. Susan Rule-Sandler and I were not classmates, as I am several years older than she, but the teacher (now deceased) was my high school physics teacher. At the time, I knew nothing of his criminal behavior. It was, as she says, kept very quiet, because that’s how sexual abuse was handled back then.
Susan uses the teacher’s name in her essay, but I’ve chosen to redact it, and several other names in case the owner of this website would have any legal problems if I don’t. The teacher was finally arrested on charges of molesting his own granddaughter in North Carolina, served a jail sentence, and ended up on a sex offenders list. A few years later, he died of cancer.
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No cute photo today or happy news to share. Instead a post that is too long overdue. I apologize in advance for its length. I’ll try my best to reveal the impact of a 37 year old trauma in as few words as possible. All I ask is that those of you who know me from that time we spent together at Cold Spring Harbor High School in NY reflect on and share this post with others, especially those from CSHHS.
For two years, I was the victim of repeated sexual assault followed by 6 years of stalking at the hands of my high school science teacher, [TSK]. I know this is not news to many of you. You know because as a scared 15 year old, I came forward and told the truth to my school and my community. You know because there were others who were victimized but kept quiet at the time out of fear—you may be one of them. You know because you heard through the grapevine and published reports how his own family was destroyed from within decades later due to his perverted abuse of his own children and grandchildren. You know because you collectively punished me, THE VICTIM, for speaking the truth throughout the remainder of high school and beyond.
What’s important is that the behavior I endured as a result of reporting the illegal and immoral actions of my teacher NEVER happens to another young girl or woman who comes forward—no matter who it is and what esteemed position her abuser may hold. The backlash against me for accusing a very popular teacher was worse in many ways than the sexual abuse and stalking I endured at his hands.
You see, Mr. K was very important in my small community. He was a lacrosse coach for a winning team that got boys into prestigious colleges; he was an academic advisor who helped many students, including me, to win national scientific competitions; he was the “fun” teacher who spent years designing and building amazing parade floats with an army of eager teenagers within his ready touch. He was Kiwanis Man of the Year. He was simply too big, too important, too necessary to maintaining our school’s winning ways to be taken down.
When I finally reported him, months after he raped me on our 10th grade school trip to the Dallas Cotton Bowl parade with the float we had all worked so hard to design and build, I was on the verge of suicide. I had been threatened for months to remain silent or others would suffer the consequences. While my report of sexual abuse was accepted by the school administration, there was no referral for prosecution. That would have been a messy public display. Not good for the image of the school. Instead, he was allowed to quietly resign. He was immediately offered a great job in the community. His children were allowed to stay in the same high school and he was not barred from campus. From all outward appearances, his life went on as before while mine became a living hell.
I was subject to daily abuse and ridicule from many of my former best friends and from many who didn’t know me— just knew of me. I was the girl who had wrongly accused the wonderful Mr. K. I was made to wear the scarlet A on my chest. I was ostracized and bullied. I was cast out of my social circle and made to feel like I was the wrongdoer by not only the students whose lives were disrupted by the loss of K as their mentor, but by their parents who mourned the loss of his compelling letters of recommendation and college connections. I was a blemish to be covered up. All the while, I was stalked by K with a steady flow of cards and calls and late night sightings of his car parked across the street from my bedroom window. Every year throughout college I received cards and packages from him with false return addresses on the envelops and wrapping so that I would open them to find messages and sexual trinkets from him.
I was saved by the kindness of [several friends] and a group of others who welcomed me into their social circle and stood by me through all the ugliness. I am forever grateful to them and I try constantly to emulate their openness to helping others without judgment.
Over the years since high school as more and more stories are made public of rampant sexual abuse and harassment, I’ve stayed quiet and in a weird way took comfort that I was not alone. You see the intense backlash at telling the truth can make you doubt yourself to your core. Other stories shared make it easier to accept that I did not cause or deserve the abuse I suffered. I merely survived it in the only way my 15 year old brain could handle.
Why post today? Charlie Rose. I watch him every morning on TV as I start my day. For me, it was the last straw. Another paragon of virtue now toppled by multiple reports of sexual misconduct. It comes after a month of seemingly endless reports of long unreported wrongdoing. Each report is another reminder of my experience. This needs to stop. It’s only been allowed to continue because the victims are badgered, shamed and threatened into silence, not only by the perpetrator, but by our society that tolerates and dismisses the egregious behavior of powerful men because to go along to get along is much easier than shaking up the power paradigm.
There have been many many times in the past 37 years that I have thought how different my life might be had I not come forward. I probably would not be as strong and resilient a person as I am now. I may not have become a lawyer and may not have spent years volunteering on behalf of abused women and children. Those are all positives.
But had my truth been met with widespread kindness and support rather than outright hatred, I know I would have suffered so much less.
I’ve often wondered what those of you who treated me so badly have thought over the years as you’ve seen and learned more about child predators and their grooming behaviors. Do you regret being cruel to the victim? Do you see now how vile and dangerous a climate of victim blaming can be? I’m no longer going to stay silent. I will share the whole ugly truth and ask that you do the same. Please share and repost this message. I’d like to wash away the stain on CSHHS and remove the A from my chest once and for all.