Dancing with Tears In My Eyes

Dreaming of a Memory of a Life Gone By

Before I turned eighteen, getting post was something of a luxury. Usually, it was only birthday cards or Christmas cards. Now, I get brown envelopes with appointments for my psychiatrist and my doctor. These always have handwritten addresses on the envelope. Today, I got an envelope in the post.

As usual it was brown. But this one had a little clear plastic window and you could see my name and address printed on the letter in smudged black printer ink. I recognised the brand of the envelope, Lyreco, as the one my old college always used. The cream colour of the paper with the college logo in the background was a little bit of a giveaway too. And the fact that I had been expecting a response from them since June, since I put my complaint in, only cemented that fact. Perhaps the envelope was an update on how the enquiry I had been told was happening was going, or else a verdict telling me what had happened. 

I opened the envelope with a fear of dread. I knew something was wrong the minute it came in the post. The muscles in the pit of my stomach tightened. I had a sudden urge just to throw the envelope away, never to be read. Perhaps my instincts were right in telling me that I would be better off not knowing what was contained in the letter. 

It was from my old college. 

A quick scan shattered what small amount of happiness that I had manage to piece together and grow over a period of time. The governors were not taking my complaint any further than the senior members of staff had done. They had basically left it to stagnate. They were going to do nothing, and let him get away with a slapped wrist. After all he had done to me, the college had decided to just gloss over it and tell me I wasn't worth their trouble. 

Well, I'm really sorry for following college procedure and reporting a teacher for bullying. I forgot that I go into college to be verbally abused and physically pushed around and made to feel small and depressed. I forgot that I must do precisely as teachers say, because they are the supreme beings of the earth. I forgot that when a teacher gives me death threats that I should do as he says, because no one cares.

I'm also really very sorry for pointing out that it's all very well and good you having a child protection policy, but when you are faced with a case like mine and you sweep it under the carpet and ignore it, then the policy doesn't work. 

I can't take normal routes of complaining and fighting my case anymore. The physical stress is making me sick, and I can't do it anymore. 

I have to get my story out there somehow, and I have to try and protect other students at my old college from him. It worries me deeply that if he thinks he's gotten away with abusing me, that he will do it to another student. It could be worse that time. It could have much more of an impact that time. I couldn't watch another person go through hell in his hands. It would not be ethically correct for me to just stand and watch. 

It is not fair.

In this blog, I will be publishing the diary entries that I have kept during my two years at college. They span from September 2012 until June 2014. The ones published will be from key dates during the time, so that you as my reader can understand the background to what happened.

It's the only way I can pass on my story without being judged and destroying more lives than need to be punished. 

I must ask the reader that if you know who the people in the diary entries are, that you don't reveal their full names or the name of the college if you comment on a post. If you do recognise the people in the diary entries, and you know they are bullying someone else, then please do something about it. 

If you do nothing else at all, please try to help them. 

I don't want people to go through what I did. Even now I have left the college, what he did still affects my day to day life. 

I'm dancing with tears in my eyes, dreaming of a memory of a life gone by.

(These events run paraell with those in The Thin Wall)