We were sitting on the grass at the side of Knox Grammar School’s main oval in 1987; it must have been in my final few weeks of school. The memory of an awkward moment saying uncomplimentary things about Mr Fotis the religion teacher, while he was sitting behind me popped back into my mind when I saw his name deeply implicated in evidence before the royal commission into sexual abuse.
One of the things people who weren’t at Knox in my era find surprising was that the culture did not value learning or academic curiosity. After all, this was a school that closed its classics department and opened a business centre instead. What was valued was image. I vividly remember the headmaster, Ian Paterson, speaking in assemblies on topics like why Knox boys didn’t swear, because only members of the less privileged classes did that. Everything was appearance.
And sadly, I think that was what seduced my parents about the place. My father never finished school, spending a chunk of his adolescence in a Japanese internment camp instead. For him, Knox offered security, a network of old boys he thought would support his sons in later life, who would recognise the old school tie and help us on our way into our careers in the business world.
I nearly escaped in Year 11. The first couple of years were a bit of a blur of being miserable, sporadically bullied, and feeling constantly lonely. That never changed, although the bullying did. By Year 11, I was big enough and odd enough that people basically left me alone. I mainly lived in the library, to which fact I owe my encyclopaedic knowledge of World War II German military hardware. I did my work, so wasn’t generally bullied by the teachers either, and fortunately was neither a boarder, good looking or sporty. Nevertheless, Year 11 was a low ebb. I truanted, embraced depressing music and wrote awful poetry.
Finally, I broke down at school which must have caused my year master to convince my parents that maybe the school wasn’t the right place for me. At the very end of the year, I spent a wonderfully liberating week at another school, mainly drinking beer with similarly tortured souls in the cooling system under the Macquarie Centre ice rink. By that stage though I knew that I could make it through to the HSC, so decided to stick it out at Knox. My final year involved me wearing Doc Marten boots and greatcoats at every opportunity and indulging in as much minor vandalism as I could get away with. I also had the highlight of stopping a boy in my year who had previously bullied me from bullying a tiny little year 7 boy. In the past week I’ve seen that bully again, giving evidence into the abuse he suffered at Knox, and I think more kindly of him. I had some good friends, though none at the school, and I had music. I had two good teachers, one who showed me how creative and fun teaching can be, and paradoxically inspired me to become a teacher myself. After my final HSC exam, I walked out the gates and never returned or had any deliberate contact with the school or anyone from my year ever again.
Seeing the names and faces of people I knew at Knox appearing in front of the royal commission into abuse at the school has affected me far more than I thought it would. We are forever shaped by our adolescent experiences. My father was shaped by the insecurity of war, and although my experiences don’t compare with his, obviously, I was shaped by my experiences at Knox. It isn’t a surprise that I learned to love Kafka at school. The image of the individual ground down by a mindless machine was what I felt most days. When we studied Lord of the Flies I thought it read like the school yearbook. The culture of the school was toxic. There was one mould for boys to fit, and those who were different were left behind.
The sexual abuse by a group of teachers at the school doesn’t surprise me. Some of the names before the royal commission I could have told you in 1987. I was profoundly detached from the school, and yet I knew. I spent some time this week going through the documents tendered as evidence before the commission, because I’m a historian and that’s what I do. It’s very instructive to see a repeating pattern of evidence being brought to the headmaster’s attention, and perpetrators of abuse being quietly shuffled sideways, or “counselled” or dismissed with glowing references.
For decades, Knox has chosen to protect the good name of the school above all else. The broken men the commission is hearing about, some of whom I knew, are testimony to the utter failure of the management and pastoral culture of the school.
http://www.smh.com.au/comment/protecting-the-good-name-of-knox-grammar-school-has-left-a-toxic-legacy-20150304-13th57.html
– Alan Dearn
Thankyou. What a great story.
I have always known that Knox and similar schools were out of balance. It’s sad to see the tortured faces of those past boys in the news but it is wonderful that the truth is coming out and healing can begin.
Public High schools can have a similar bully / victim culture and I always celebrate the ones who don’t have school prefects and aren’t all about academic and sporting prowess. The education department and the teachers unions seem quite controlling and I’m always amused when they talk about reducing bullying and yet operate on a control freak philosophy, themselves.
My kids go to an alternative school that has a real lack of material resources, but a very rich philosophy and awareness inbuilt. Every time we pay school fees I’m not sure we are doing the right thing because it is not mainstream and we can’t easily afford it…. but then something happens in the news and I think that my intuition might be ok after all.
Hope that Knox and the other schools are now able to look at themselves clearly enough to start building new internal resources instead of a new gymnasium.
It is always difficult when one has been affiliated with a school.
As sad as it has been, the pastoral care at this school will now be much improved for future students and the openness will hopefully help some of the damaged students to find resolve
I was there, I was a boarder and like you I haven’t looked back since I walked out the door. I was proud I didn’t leave before year 12 as I would have felt I capitulated to the bastardy I saw on a daily basis.
I spoke to another ex boarder who is a mate (and who also had nothing to do with the school since leaving) and his reaction when I mentioned that Dr Paterson could go to jail was “good”. The school’s archaic and absolute control and punishment of students (particularly boarders) without any oversight whatsoever literally encouraged abuse. It is this history of abuse that I think has encouraged some people to come out now the school is metaphorically down and take a kick. I find it hard to accept some of the allegations that have been made about how widespread the sexual abuse was but I have no doubts it existed. In the same way some allegations regarding Dr Paterson do not ring true with the person we all knew.
However…… I would NEVER have thought Dr Paterson would ignore evidence of the abuse that went on at the school if he knew what was going on. Turns out he DID know …so….well….. if I was wrong on that…. what else am I wrong about?
They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Dr Paterson has walked that road and is now (with his family) in a very bad place.
He joins all those who went to Knox under his guidance and whose lives have been twisted by their experiences there.
I will say up front that I haven’t followed all the testimony, but what intrigues me is the relationship between the students and their parents. I can’t imagine either of my children not telling me of abuse, control and punishment. Nor can I imagine myself not believing them. Did the school bully the parents as well ?
I’m saddened to hear of all the young lives that should have been cared for, and voices that should have been listened to all those years ago.
Unfortunately, through personal experience i have today found that the education department hasn’t changed much.
I have complained about teacher and principal behaviour in a public school, and have given names, dates, detailed description of situations and children which have been treated in a disgusting manner – i have put it in writing. The answer from the department of education.. nothing ever happened. Nobody did anything wrong.
It seems that no matter how much we condemn such behaviour, it continues to exist because there are no consequences to revolting people unless the media is involved. In fact, not only are there no consequences but abusive people in education seem to be at times protected. This isn’t history it’s today. This is fact.
What we need is law enforcement. Students, parents and teachers need an independent body to complain to, and that shouldn’t involve costly solicitors. I keep hearing , ‘how could they get away with it?’. Dear department of education, that question is your responsibility to answer!