Why I don’t hate the teacher who loved the boy

February 11, 2009

Just yesterday, I read a teacher was charged for having a sexual liaison with a 15 year boy under her charge. What really surprised me was how it provoked a wave of smugness in so many of my colleagues in office. They weren’t horrified. Angry or even contemptuous  – if anything, they understood.




“he (the husband) probably pushed her to it.” – “that’s what you get for ignoring a woman.” – “what do you expect?”


That set me thinking. Why aren’t we appalled by this? What if, it was a man instead who preyed on a 15 year old? Would the reaction be different?


I think that sometimes we in toy nation get so immersed in Louis Vuitton bags we forget the power of real emotions. Everyone loves real homegrown emotions. For one they cut through the increasingly nefarious world that we all associate with the fake. It doesn’t even matter if its murder, providing its not the cold blooded (fake) type and committed in the name of unrequited love or passion. The chances are if you have a good lawyer like me to defend you in court, you are likely to walk.

That is how powerful the power of the woman’s thingy is – it’s real enough to cut through prejudices and doubt. No one likes a fake, except the faker.

That’s why I think, if this was a male teacher the DPP would probably have asked for ten years and ten of the best with the rotan. Its smacks of fake.


As it is, all I feel is a profound pity for this teacher. Not contempt. If it was a man, it would be very different indeed. I know it’s silly. That I should even harbor double standards, but I can’t help it.

That’s the nature of a woman. And that could really be the only point I am trying to make here. It doesn’t have to make sense or even come across as understandable.  For it to be a woman thingy,  it must be an act beyond silly (personal satisfaction). It has to be unspur and apart from our known world. The emotions that accounts for why this teacher did the things she did, I mean. If anything they are fuzzy, fluffy, flismy, soft and totally doomed to failure, like trying to sail across the Atlantic in a paper boat – that’s real  (for a woman at least, impracticality has to feature – why do you think, we wear high heels and dont go around in knap sacks?)and they resonate in every woman.

That’s why men can’t understand why women drive the way they do. Its not that we are bad drivers, it’s just that cars aren’t made by women for women and we aren’t hardwired to read maps – the vanity mirror is always on the wrong side. The handbrake is too stumpy and the doors don’t open wide enough when you’re in a frock. Like I said, it’s an emotional thing, that why even manufacturers and marketers have registered this growing feeling, demand or whatever you want to call it.

The pull that is. The one that makes us do the things which may even seem silly, like buying a car just because the cup holder is just the right fit or how somehow has bothered with the minor details of provisioning space for face wipes – fuel consumption and performance doesn’t matter – taking the corner matters even less – that’s a man thing.


Just keep one thing in mind, though every woman may say, she doesn’t understand why this teacher did what she did, deep inside she understands it only too well. Trust me its something that only a woman can understand.

And you don’t even need to learn anything new either to understand it. All you have to do is unlearn many things you already have bouncing around in your head.


Dotty ( and I am not of the brotherhood. I am just a person who started a blog one day and wondered why a flying saucer is suddenly in my backyard. It’s nice. There are flashing lights and all that. I just can’t figure out why if they can travel across the vast expanse of space – they can’t seem to design a better looking space suit that’s all. Their diplomats tell me they are lost, looking for this place called home. Meanwhile the evil emperor of the known universe is out to hunt them down. No it’s not the story. Not even the mind bending plot that grabs me. Its the way the diplomat looks intently in my eyes when he says all these things. Or maybe its the way he plays around with his muffin with his teaspoon. They can’t seem to distinguish reality from illusion. It’s gone horribly wrong somewhere. And I believe it may be true. They are lost. Like I said, it’s a woman thingy, a little just goes a very long way, that’s why its just stuff.)



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