A Teacher Accused

A Teacher Accused

I've never seen the inside of a police cell before....I mean I have seen them on the television. My wife and I make a point of watching all the British crime dramas. We don't like the American ones. Too much blood and violence. Too many gore soaked victims flying backwards while a detective or gangster grins wickedly over the sights of a 45 Magnum. In British shows most of the bodies are either lying quietly on the ground in a carefully arranged pool of blood or slouched in an armchair with red spotted necks suggesting some kind of gentle strangulation. When the miscreants are finally incarcerated they are bustled into white tiled cells with only a camp bed, sink and toilet for company. What I have never realised is that these sterile bathroom like chambers smell. I've never thought of it before but I suppose if you put enough drunks and delinquents into a small room night after night they are bound to leave their mark after a while.

I still can't believe I'm here with the sad, bad and outcasts of society. I'm a teacher, a professional with fifteen years under my belt. I'm sober, hard working, CRB vetted, spotless. But here I am in this smelly police cell waiting for a duty solicitor to explain what the criminal justice system is going to do to me next. I've already suffered the first humiliation. A police car with flashing blue lights outside my house and boys in blue hammering on our front door. We had just sat down to tea and my wife answered the door because I was still enjoying a mouthful of her excellent flan. I heard a voice asking if he could come in and seconds later a blue uniformed officer appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Are you Timothy William Allington?" he asked. Mouth still full I gave him a slow nod, stunned by this sudden intrusion. He then began to intone the standard phrases we had heard so many times before in fictional dramas, warning me about not having to say anything which might be used against me in court. Then he added the words which made my blood run cold and my wife slump wide eyed against the door jam....."You are under arrest on suspicion of statutory rape...." and went on to detail the date, time and location where I was alleged to have had sex with one of my students.

I recognised the name. A physically precocious fourteen year old who liked to sit in the front row of the class, crossing and uncrossing her mini-skirted legs. Her blouse always two buttons short of decency, creating a hormone tsunami for every teenage boy in the school. But what set her apart was that she only went for older men. Rumours of male staff succumbing to her charms abounded but I never saw any direct evidence myself. And after so many years of teaching this age group I had seen it all. Boys trying to mark out their territory by bullying the staff, and moon eyed girls with crushes on teacher dreamily chewing pencils in class. But this young lady just wouldn't give up. When a week of the front row treatment didn't work she tried the "Excuse me sir I have a problem. Do you think you could give me a hand?" gambit. Proffering a scrappy piece of coursework she would lean over my desk, thrusting her loosely buttoned top into my eye line. But I always kept my gaze averted which frustrated her plans and disappointed her cronies in the corridor. No doubt camera phones were poised to record the precise moment when 'Sir' gave way to the onslaught, but I never did.

I never touched that girl. I've never touched any of the girls in my charge. Teachers are in a privileged profession, a position of trust and I have always respected that. So it took me a while to work out why this girl had brought this dreadful accusation. Then somewhere between signing the charge sheet and being led to this cell I realised what had happened. Last week after school, while I was alone in my form room marking assignments she came at me with all guns blazing. She grabbed the back of my chair, spun me round, sat herself face to face on my lap, and began covering my neck with kisses. In spite of my shock I managed to grip her arms and push her backwards onto the floor. Then I let loose with how ashamed she should be, behaving like a cheap adolescent harlot. A silly little girl barely out of nappies. She scrambled to her feet, crimson with anger and embarassment, and strode out of the room to the jeers and taunts of her waiting friends. She had probably boasted that they were in for a treat but instead she had been thoroughly humiliated by 'Sir'.

That had to be it.....I can't think it would be anything else.....And if that's all there is then surely I'll be out of here tonight and sent home to comfort my wife. Of course it will be awkward for the first few days back at school, but I have a good headmaster, I'm sure he will support me. I noticed a few reporters outside our house when I was led out to the police car in handcuffs. I wonder who tipped them off? Surely nobody will believe what the tabloids publish about me tomorrow. All rumour, innuendo and gossip. I've dedicated my life to the teaching profession.....my record is spotless......silly young girl.... they won't believe her over me.....will they?..... I'll be okay.....Yes, I'll be fine.....won't I?



	I've never seen the inside of a police cell before....I mean I have seen them on the television. My wife and I make a point of watching all the British crime dramas. We don't like the American ones. Too much blood and violence. Too many gore soaked victims flying backwards while a detective or gangster grins wickedly over the sights of a 45 Magnum. In British shows most of the bodies are either lying quietly on the ground in a carefully arranged pool of blood or slouched in an armchair with red spotted necks suggesting some kind of gentle strangulation. When the miscreants are finally incarcerated they are bustled into white tiled cells with only a camp bed, sink and toilet for company. What I have never realised is that these sterile bathroom like chambers smell. I've never thought of it before but I suppose if you put enough drunks and delinquents into a small room night after night they are bound to leave their mark after a while. I still can't believe I'm here with the sad, bad and outcasts of society. I'm a teacher, a professional with fifteen years under my belt. I'm sober, hard working, CRB vetted, spotless. But here I am in this smelly police cell waiting for a duty solicitor to explain what the criminal justice system is going to do to me next. I've already suffered the first humiliation. A police car with flashing blue lights outside my house and boys in blue hammering on our front door. We had just sat down to tea and my wife answered the door because I was still enjoying a mouthful of her excellent flan. I heard a voice asking if he could come in and seconds later a blue uniformed officer appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Are you Timothy William Allington?" he asked. Mouth still full I gave him a slow nod, stunned by this sudden intrusion. He then began to intone the standard phrases we had heard so many times before in fictional dramas, warning me about not having to say anything which might be used against me in court. Then he added the words which made my blood run cold and my wife slump wide eyed against the door jam....."You are under arrest on suspicion of statutory rape...." and went on to detail the date, time and location where I was alleged to have had sex with one of my students. I recognised the name. A physically precocious fourteen year old who liked to sit in the front row of the class, crossing and uncrossing her mini-skirted legs. Her blouse always two buttons short of decency, creating a hormone tsunami for every teenage boy in the school. But what set her apart was that she only went for older men. Rumours of male staff succumbing to her charms abounded but I never saw any direct evidence myself. And after so many years of teaching this age group I had seen it all. Boys trying to mark out their territory by bullying the staff, and moon eyed girls with crushes on teacher dreamily chewing pencils in class. But this young lady just wouldn't give up. When a week of the front row treatment didn't work she tried the "Excuse me sir I have a problem. Do you think you could give me a hand?" gambit. Proffering a scrappy piece of coursework she would lean over my desk, thrusting her loosely buttoned top into my eye line. But I always kept my gaze averted which frustrated her plans and disappointed her cronies in the corridor. No doubt camera phones were poised to record the precise moment when 'Sir' gave way to the onslaught, but I never did. I never touched that girl. I've never touched any of the girls in my charge. Teachers are in a privileged profession, a position of trust and I have always respected that. So it took me a while to work out why this girl had brought this dreadful accusation. Then somewhere between signing the charge sheet and being led to this cell I realised what had happened. Last week after school, while I was alone in my form room marking assignments she came at me with all guns blazing. She grabbed the back of my chair, spun me round, sat herself face to face on my lap, and began covering my neck with kisses. In spite of my shock I managed to grip her arms and push her backwards onto the floor. Then I let loose with how ashamed she should be, behaving like a cheap adolescent harlot. A silly little girl barely out of nappies. She scrambled to her feet, crimson with anger and embarassment, and strode out of the room to the jeers and taunts of her waiting friends. She had probably boasted that they were in for a treat but instead she had been thoroughly humiliated by 'Sir'. That had to be it.....I can't think it would be anything else.....And if that's all there is then surely I'll be out of here tonight and sent home to comfort my wife. Of course it will be awkward for the first few days back at school, but I have a good headmaster, I'm sure he will support me. I noticed a few reporters outside our house when I was led out to the police car in handcuffs. I wonder who tipped them off? Surely nobody will believe what the tabloids publish about me tomorrow. All rumour, innuendo and gossip. I've dedicated my life to the teaching profession.....my record is spotless......silly young girl.... they won't believe her over me.....will they?..... I'll be okay.....Yes, I'll be fine.....won't I?