Glenn's Diary

Chapter 9

10th August 2005

1966 - The Paedophile: Teaching in our school

During my third year at the Senior school, aged 12/13 we went on a school hiking trip to the North York Moors. We did a week, averaging over 20 miles a day; come rain or shine. It was summer and we got a mixture of sun and rain. All my class mates were there. In total there was around 40 of us. We stayed in youth hostels. On the first rainy day we got drenched. The gusset in the trousers which keeps your 'tackle' in place, rubbed against the top of your legs and made them sore. All the lads were complaining. We had to have medical attention that evening. The teacher administering some kind of cream to our sores was a man we'll call Peeder.

We'd no idea at the time, but he was a paedophile. All the lads were queuing outside the dormitory, whilst one-by-one he administered cream to our sore spots.

No-one had a second thought as to why he wanted us in the huge dormitory one-by-one; until one of the lads came and told us that one of the other lads had just confided in him; that Peeder had just wanked him off.

Panic and anger struck amongst us. A number of the lads owned up to having been wanked off by him too. Some had managed to stop him. Everyone had been afraid to talk. You've got to appreciate that although we thought we were little hard men, we were only just going through puberty at this time. Puberty is at a much earlier age for many youngsters today and they’re much more aware of gay people and paedophiles. We'd no idea what one was in those days. People hadn't 'come out of the closet' then. Gay men were ostracised and often beaten.

In the 60's we were still afraid of teachers, knowing we could get caned, so we pretty much did what they said when we were in front of them. Most of the trouble kids got into was away from the teachers; and then we got caned when they found out about it; such as bullying, smoking and 'wagging' a day off.

It was my turn. In I went. Peeder asked me to get on the bed and take my trousers and underpants off. I got confrontational and told him in an angry, low pitched voice, I didn't need to take them off to have some cream put on my legs. He caved in and told me to drop them to my ankles. I laid on the bed, sat up using my elbows, so I could see what he was up to.

He produced a round flat tin with some cream in which he proceeded to rub into my inner thighs. They were really sore and the cream stung a little. I was on my guard all the time, watching him intensely; and then it happened. As he was rubbing the cream into the top of my thighs, he very quickly slipped the thumb and two fore fingers of his right hand over my prick and pulled the foreskin back and forward twice, very quickly; in an attempt to arouse me; and then continued rubbing my thighs. It happened in a flash. Less than a second. "HEY!" I shouted out loud at him, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Don't you like it?" he questioned in a calm soft voice as he continued to rub the cream into my thighs. "NO I FUCKIN' DON'T! I shouted. At that, I kicked him out of the way with my legs as I got off the bed and left the room. As I was leaving He calmly asked me not to speak about this with anyone. I just ignored him.

There was a queue still waiting when I walked out of the room. I warned them all that he'd just tried it on and told them to stand up to him.

Its a strange situation to find yourself in. Mum and Dad had never taken time out to talk to me about weirdo's like Peeder, and the experience flooded me with lots of different emotions; the three strongest being anger, hatred and revenge. In those days a teacher was a real authority figure and a real substitute during the day for a parent. They had the authority to beat you. As youngsters going through puberty, we were easy pray for this paedophile. We probably got around 50 'hard-on's a day at that age.

When Peeder 'touched' me there was a response from the 'little brain', which the 'big brain' seems to have little control over. In fact at that age, and much older for some men too, the 'little brain' rules the 'big brain'.

It took all my will power of thinking horrible thoughts to prevent me from getting a hard on in those few seconds before I kicked off the bed. And what of those that weren't so strong, or self-willed? They were the ones that reacted and allowed Peeder to coerce them.

As a 12/13 year-old child put into that situation, with an authority figure; it's difficult to imagine the long-term lasting mental effects.

This experience happened early on in the hiking trip. From that moment on, the talk was about Peeder most of the time.

Interesting that no-one was prepared to relate this event to the other teachers on the trip. Why is it that these 12/13 year-old young lads wouldn't make a complaint? Why is it that whilst stood in a line outside the dormitory, knowing what was happening ‘in’ the dormitory; they would still file in, one at a time; me included; with full awareness of what might happen?

You could ask the same question of why so many Jews would kneel in line over mass graves whilst they got shot in the head in turn. Maybe each one of them thought either it would never happen to them, or it would stop before their time came; or even they (and we) were afraid to face the consequences of what might happen if we didn't do as we were told.

In my case, and certainly in the case of some of the other lads who were confident, bold and daring; we were prepared for the confrontation.

What we didn't understand was the difference in the behaviours of some of the other lads. The lads who were shy, passive and introverted; who disliked confrontation, and couldn't 'stand up' for themselves. They would just roll over and do whatever. We stronger lads couldn't understand this at the time; yet this was the type of behaviour that paedophiles prey on.

The 'tougher' lads amongst us decided to plot a plan to get back at Peeder. We decided he couldn't get away with what he was doing; yet we weren't prepared to go to the other teachers or our parents. I guess it was the low se-esteem at the time. The embarrassment! Being 'tarred' with it in public for the rest of our lives!

We talked of many things we could do. Finally it happened naturally whilst out walking. It was a pleasant sunny day. We were high in the North York Moors. Strung out; the 40 or so of us were in a long line. We decided to 'get' Peeder. We weren't sure yet how. We were just giddy 13 year olds getting high on adrenalin at the thought of getting him back somehow. Typically this kind of scenario was usually ‘all talk’ and no action.

The plot started to unfold. Not quite sure how it started, or who made the call, but I'm confident that Malc, Ian and myself were the ring-leaders. We kept Peeder behind us. He was the last teacher, keeping up the rear (no pun intended). We slowed the pace down to leave a gap from the next teacher. Soon there was a fair gap, so that we lost sight of the others in front, around bends and cliffs.

Peeder tried to hustle us along. He came into the middle of about 12 of us that had slowed the pace, urging us to catch up with the others. There was a hollow to his left. Can't remember who did it; but someone barged him into the hollow. With the weight of his rucksack, he toppled over into the hollow.

"Get him!" came the cry. And with a group war-cry we all piled on top of him one-by-one. Peeder thought it was a game and started to laugh. He was enjoying the 'camaraderie'. That is; until the pile started to get higher. He started to complain that we were hurting him. But that was just the start. Then the 'boots' started to 'go in'. There was a flurry of people kicking away at him. Lads were rushing in and out, kicking away at him. And then we opened a gap, for the introverted lads that had had the most abuse, to have a kick at him, as some sort of small pacification for their ordeal; which they gladly took.

This all happened in around 3 minutes. Three minutes is a ‘round’ in a boxing match. It's a long time in a brawl. We quickly dispersed and started to move on, to catch the others up. We'd already surmised that Peeder wouldn't say anything. He was too much at risk. He dusted himself down, tended to his pained areas and hobbled along to catch us up. Nothing was said. In fact he sat in silence at communal and meal times for the rest of the trip.

My hiking trip got cut short by a couple of days. We arrived at the top of a steep slag heap, left after open-cast mining to grass over. Rain had formed a channel down to the river below.

Peeder decided to show us his 'hill sliding' skills, inviting us all to follow him, sliding down the steep hill in a stood up position. A little like snow-boarding; only without the board.

Quite a few people had gone before me, so the shale was eroding away down the bank. A tree root had been covered about two thirds of the way down. We were spaced about 10-15 feet apart, so I didn't see it until the last second. It was too late. We were hurtling down the hill at a fair speed.

My heel dug into the tree root and launched me flying into the air. I must have flown 10 feet before touching he hillside again. I was off balance, with my weight too far forward. Add to that the weight of the rucksack on my back, pushing me further forward and I was gaining momentum. I screamed out to the lad in front of me, who jumped out of the way to one side and laid back against the hillside to slow himself down. I was flailing my arms around in circles, trying to get upright. You know what it's like when you trip and fall forwards. You circle your arms in an attempt to regain balance.

The river bank was approaching at an incredible speed. I couldn't get upright. The river was narrow. About 6 feet, with steeply banked sides to it. I tried to launch myself from the nearside bank, to the far side. I was going too fast. I nose-dived into the far side of the river-bank.

I tried to turn my body so that my face wouldn't take the first impact, but the weight of the rucksack made it difficult for me. I hit the bank with a tremendous thud, right shoulder first, breaking the ball and socket off my right shoulder. I passed out for a few minutes.

When I awoke, there was a fair crowd around me. Some of the team had been stopped from sliding down and had to take a longer route to get down. My shoulder swelled up to the size of a football.

We managed to get an ambulance to me. There was a road not too far away for access. I was driven off to Grimsby Hospital. The following day I was driven to Sheffield Hallamshire Hospital where they 'set' my shoulder. They didn't do too good a job. I've suffered ever since.

But again, no-one told me it would hinder me, so I ignored it and just worked around it for the rest of my life. The power of self-belief is incredible.

And as for Peeder; never met'm since.