A Teacher’s Sacred Duty Smashed to Smithereens
By Sandra Parsons
All children have a right to expect the adults around them to behave responsibly, especially those whose job it is to teach them. And Jeremy Forrest, the 30-year-old married maths teacher who has run away to France with 15-year-old Megan Stammers, has not so much broken what should be an inviolable bond of trust as smashed it to smithereens. In February – that’s an incredible seven months ago — a fellow pupil reported Mr Forrest to another teacher after seeing him and Megan holding hands on the plane back from a school trip to Los Angeles. The school, Bishop Bell C of E in Eastbourne, admits it has been ‘investigating concerns’ — and, according to some reports, Mr Forrest was due to be suspended the day after he disappeared with his pupil. Whatever the truth, the fact that he was not only allowed to continue teaching Megan but was also giving her extra maths tuition after school, so long after the alarm was first raised, almost beggars belief. Equally appalling is that, according to Megan’s mother Danielle, the school neglected to tell her what was going on. This is utterly inexcusable — no matter what denials or explanations Mr Forrest offered his superiors, and no matter what story Megan may have told. For as every teacher and parent of a 15-year-old girl knows, they are simultaneously the most complicated, delightful, infuriating, charming, cunning and confusing creatures you are ever likely to encounter. For a start, they usually look much older than 15: they’re often not only taller than us but, superficially, at least, seem more confident, too. They know exactly how to cut us down to size with a withering comment about how old-fashioned we are, and seize every opportunity to patronise us. But the parent of a teenager learns not to be fooled. Hard experience teaches us that the minute we marvel at how adult they’ve become, they’ll throw a tantrum more extreme than anything they managed in the toddler years. ‘What’s the matter?’ we wheedle, pathetically, as they stomp off to their room, radiating fury and contempt.
We already know the answer. Everything’s the matter, especially us. Teenage girls want more of everything: more money, more sleep, more freedom, more clothes (this last is the easiest to solve — they simply take ours). How telling that on the day she disappeared, Megan came home from school at 4.30pm having already phoned her mother an hour earlier to ask if she could stay at her friend’s house. Her mother said yes, and handed over her dinner money for the next day. It’s easy to say she should have phoned the friend’s mother to check. Unfortunately, even the most vigilant parent is worn down from time to time, caught between wanting her daughter to be safe but also wanting to give her the trust and independence she constantly demands. Had Megan’s mother made that phone call, would her daughter now still be safely at home? Perhaps. But, then again, Megan might have waited until everyone was asleep and slipped out in the dead of night to join her teacher. Let’s make no mistake: it is Forrest, not Megan or her mother, who is entirely to blame. The fact that his marriage appears to have been acrimonious is irrelevant. He is twice Megan’s age and it is his professional and moral duty to look after her.That means putting her best interests first — not using her emotional neediness to help him cope with his own inadequacies. Her mother says Megan’s still afraid of the dark. Her friends report that she ‘can be quite vulnerable?.?.?. she needs to be reassured quite a bit.’ Given that her mum had recently had a baby by a new partner, it’s likely that Megan needed support and reassurance more than most. But all teenage girls are fundamentally insecure. Lurking just underneath every 15-year-old’s disconcertingly grown-up exterior are the fears and raw emotions of a child. Yes, of course they sit in their untidy bedrooms, dreaming of wild, improbable romance. But if you burrow under the piles of grubby cosmetics and discarded clothes, you’re still likely to find a row of much-loved cuddly toys. Home is the place of safety all teenage girls secretly long for, their vital refuge from the scary outside world. If her maths teacher has any vestige of decency, he needs to bring her back now. I’ve listened to Radio 1’s new breakfast DJ Nick Grimshaw and I confess to being shocked. He’s warm, engaging and plays great music. Have the BBC made a terrible mistake?
Victoria’s secret Olympic gymnast Louis Smith says rehearsing for Strictly has left him in agony (‘I’m aching in places I’ve never ached — it’s exhausting, I’m in bits’) while Victoria Pendleton (left) claims her ankles are so stiff they’re holding her back. I hope their rivals aren’t daft enough to be fooled. These two are champions — and a few aching muscles are as nothing compared to their iron will to win. Goldie Hawn says she always wanted to be a housewife, not a star. Having once seen her hold spellbound a packed bar in the Majorcan village of Deia as she danced barefoot, I find it hard to believe. She had that audience in the palm of her hand. I doubt she’d have been as happy holding a can of Pledge. The role of Chief Whip depends on being able to wield iron authority. So even if the odious Andrew Mitchell survives Plebgate with his job intact, I don’t see how he’ll be able to carry it out effectively. He’s been brought down by his own arrogance, which seems to be gargantuan even by Westminster standards. Nothing can restore his reputation now. Taking ecstasy on TV is a stunt, not science Professor David Nutt was dismissed from his post as a government drugs adviser after claiming that taking ecstasy was less dangerous than riding a horse. Tonight he purports to put his thesis to the test with an ‘experiment’ on several participants, including actor Keith Allen and novelist Lionel Shriver, who take the drug on camera and then have their reactions monitored. You can be sure that no one ends up with a broken limb — a possible consequences of riding — but even so this is a dangerous stunt. Adult, celebrity endorsement of an illegal drug serves only to make taking it seem acceptable. And dressing this up as ‘science’ is not only grossly irresponsible but morally indefensible. I’m finding the fashion for extreme eyelashes very off-putting. No celebrity these days is photographed without sporting what looks like a set of spider’s legs attached to their eyelids, giving them all a look of almost comical astonishment.
Britt Ekland and Sharon Stone are particularly egregious recent examples, but even Michelle Dockery and Joanne Froggatt — Lady Mary and housemaid Anna in Downton Abbey – turned up for Sunday’s Emmy Awards wearing them. Presumably it’s supposed to make them look stunning. To me they look simply stunned. Jack Straw says that although Tony Blair twice suggested he could be Prime Minister he didn’t try for the top job because he was frightened of handling Prime Minister’s Questions. I suspect there have been few PMs who weren’t similarly terrified. Indeed, I should have thought any rational person (which may, I realise, rule out many politicians) would find PMQs teeth-chatteringly scary. The real test of leadership is facing up to that fear — then delivering brilliantly. JK’s foolish cloak of secrecy
The few who’ve been allowed to read it (but not write about it) have done so only after signing a draconian agreement that prevents them from revealing any details whatsoever. JK makes much of her humble roots and says she hates being famous. In that case, my own humble suggestion is that she should have resisted all attempts to convince her of the need for fanfare and clandestine arrangements. The fact that she didn’t indicates she’s nowhere near as in touch with the common people as she’d like us all to think.
Vince Cable airily says ‘next time’, the Lib Dems may decide to rule with Labour. Has the sea air in Brighton gone to his head? Two years ago, the Lib Dems managed to be briefly interesting thanks to a combination of their then charismatic new leader and hopelessly lacklustre competition. Since then it’s been downhill all the way. There won’t be a next time, Vince. Sorry to break it to you — but it’s over. Although it’s 20 years since his admission of an affair prompted the infamous Paddy Pantsdown headline, Lib Dem elder statesman Paddy Ashdown still feels sorry for himself. ‘It was terrible for me. Terrible for me,’ he said in an interview this week. Funny. I should have thought it would have been rather more terrible for his wife.
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