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NZ Herald
September 27, 2003
Male teachers staying out of shadows
by Michele Hewitson
Principal Trevor Nicholls is wrestling with the paper work. It's the school
holidays, which is why he's doing the paper work at all. When school's in,
Nicholls teaches: that's why he signed up for the job more than 30 years ago.
And that's why he has stayed at Kokopu
School, set in a
farming community near Whangarei, for 19 years.
He has no aspirations towards a bigger, flasher school, a bigger office or a
bigger salary. He has never wanted to be the principal of a school where the
principal sits behind a desk. He likes to tell people that he's 52 "and
I've never left school".
Nicholls goes to school every day in his shorts and jandals. Even in the
winter he wears his jandals. For an endangered species he is a hardy,
straight-talking sort of bloke. He also does things at his school which are
at best ill-advised, at worst in breach of Ministry of Education guidelines.
After the kids have finished the cross-country, after they have "run
their guts out", Nicholls doesn't hesitate to "put my arm around
their shoulder and say 'well done"'.
He has just been on school camp with the children. "Not every kid has
their parents on camp so you have to be a parent for that child. So, yes, if
a kid is a wee bit down, you put your arm around them and give them a bit of
support."
Nicholls thinks he could get himself in a bit of strife for saying so. But in
the light of a study released this week which showed that men now make up
less than 20 per cent of the male primary school teaching force, and that
between 1992 and 2001 the number of male teachers fell by 9 per cent,
Nicholls feels it's about time male teachers stood up for the profession -
and for themselves. He's sure there are many other male teachers who, like
him, "if a kid needs support, needs help, they're going to give it. It's
just human nature".
The "Peter Ellis Syndrome" is in large part what is keeping men out
of teaching - or causing them to leave. Being seen as a potential paedophile
is hardly attractive.
An advertisement for male primary school teachers might read along the lines
of Shackleton's recruitment ad for anyone foolhardy enough to accompany him
to the South Pole: "Men wanted for hazardous journey. Small wages.
Constant danger."
Low wages and low status were the other reasons men gave for not considering
teaching small children as an attractive career.
The danger is the shadow of Ellis. It has made teaching, as one former
trainee said this week, "cold, calculated and way too PC". The
former teacher who contacted the Herald wanted to remain anonymous for
obvious reasons. In a misguided attempt to cajole a young girl into changing
for swimming, he told her she looked "nice".
A complaint was made, the teacher was suspended, there was a police
investigation. He was subsequently cleared. He has since left teaching.
This former teacher said the shadow is a long one: "Teachers are
terrified if a girl enters their class during breaks or before or after
school. It's become so unnatural. If a girl falls over and grazes her knee,
you can't pick her up or give her a Band Aid. You have to send someone to the
other side of the school to get a nurse or a female teacher. It's ridiculous,
mutual suspicion." And it is, he says, "all-pervasive,
all-embracing."
Falefatu Enari, a teacher for 10 years, is now relieving at Richmond Rd
School where he has taught for seven years. He will eventually leave the
profession altogether to run his own business.
In the meantime he'll go on teaching the way he has always taught. The kids
adore Enari - he has a reputation for being "a standout teacher",
according to the parent who suggested we talk to him.
He used to love everything about this job - in the days where he spent every
afternoon playing touch with the kids. But teaching is not the job it once was.
Now he does paperwork, counts the toll the stress is taking. And then he
opens his pay packet.
Men leaving the profession has reached "epidemic" proportions, says
Enari. This saddens him but he could not in good conscience whole-heartedly
encourage men to take his place. "If I looked at them and their choice
was either that or a factory job, I'd say go for the teaching. But if they
have the potential to do something else, I'd totally advise them to go
somewhere else.
"It's a mug's game, to be honest. And I just felt: 'Who's the mug
here?"'
He knows that teaching can ill afford to lose teachers like him. He feels he
can ill afford to stay. It is not just the money, it is the growing stresses.
"A lot of the kids come from half families and there's a real need for
male role models.
"It can be quite rewarding, but it can take up a lot of your time and
you need to deal with those issues first before you can teach the child. It's
a huge added pressure that you become the number one disciplinary
person."
He will leave teaching with a fond backwards glance. "I'll tell you one
of the biggest buzzes is when you've got a little kid who has just started
school and they're scared out of their boots. Then they suddenly realise they
can trust you and they sit on your lap and give you a big hug."
He has told the school management that if they are really worried about him
having physical contact with the children "just tell me not to do it and
that's the job for me. I can't do the job with rubber gloves".
It is one thing to tell teachers to be careful, he says, "but when
you've got a 10-year-old girl upset about what's going on at home - Dad's
just left, or Mum's just left - I can't sit there and not put my arm around
her and rub her back."
Teaching is a great job, Enari says. "The best part is being able to
have an impact on children's lives. The kids keep you young and they keep
your perspective right."
When Nicholls started out in teaching three decades ago he earned so little
that every weekend he worked on an oyster farm - he made more in a weekend
than he did for a week's teaching.
In 2003 a primary school teacher graduate earns between $36,256 and $41,055,
depending on qualifications. After seven years a teacher can earn a base
salary of between $53,638 and $56,393. The pay is better now, says Nicholls,
"but it's still not flash".
As for "the status thing", it doesn't worry Nicholls in the least.
It certainly doesn't bother Kim Hutchinson who, at 47, has been teaching for
two-and-a-half years. He "fancied it for ages", got knocked back
the first time he applied to training college (he left school at 15 without
School Certificate) and now reckons he might just have a pretty wonderful
sort of job at Rangeview Intermediate.
He finds that when people hear he's a teacher "they're positive about
it". And they all say: "There needs to be more male teachers."
Long ago, long before Peter Ellis, there were more male primary teachers. In
1955 men made up almost half of the primary school teachers. The numbers have
been dropping steadily ever since: from almost 40 per cent in 1976, to 21 per
cent in 1996, to the 2002 figure of 19.8 per cent.
In the mid-50s teachers were seen the way Enari says small children still see
teachers: as security blankets - loved, respected, trusted.
It is very hard to teach, say many teachers today, when the teacher is
regarded with suspicion, as potentially unsafe. And cautious, hands-off
teaching creates distance.
Like many male teachers - and the figures don't show whether this has always
been the case, although it's likely - Hutchinson
doesn't teach the real littlies: the new entrants. He's over 1.8m and,
"they're so little. I'd be walking around on my knees". And,
"also you have to do a bit more mothery stuff with them, maybe help them
get changed - and I wouldn't like to go there to be honest."
But Hutchinson
is impatient with the idea that the "Ellis Syndrome" is the reason
men are driven out of teaching.
"I hear moans from other male teachers that they have to be PC. And I
think that's selfish actually. I try turning it around and think, 'Well, I'm
not trying to protect myself, I'm trying to protect the kids'. So in my class
I try to make it as safe an environment for the kids as possible."
And up North at Kokopu School Nicholls is eagerly waiting for the kids to
swarm back through the gates, fresh from their holidays. Who knows, he might
even pat a child on a back or an arm. He refuses to teach in the shadows.
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