The buzz in Pasadena this past week has been over the arrest of a veteran teacher at local Mayfield School (a Catholic college prep school for girls) on charges of possessing child pornography. David Hassler, 62, who taught government, history, and religion, is on administrative leave after police found numerous printed images of child porn in his home, most apparently downloaded from the Internet. Mayfield, to its great credit, has been proactive in its response in terms of hosting forums and reaching out to its students, parents, and alumni to keep everyone informed.
In my eight years as a youth leader at All Saints Church, I worked with many girls who were Mayfield students. (A perhaps surprisingly high percentage of the teens in our Episcopal youth group were Catholic school students). I’ve also had a number of Mayfield alumnae in my classes here at the college. In the past week, since the news about Mr. Hassler broke, I’ve spoken to perhaps half a dozen young women, both current and former Mayfield students. One emailed me on Facebook to tell me what had happened, saying that she was stunned and upset and needed to talk. The reaction to the teacher’s arrest among the girls I’ve spoken with has ranged from shock to anger to concern for Mr. Hassler and what will happen to him. But there is a palpable sense of betrayal, and, in the words of one Mayfielder who wrote me this weekend, “an ugly feeling that I just can’t trust the way I did before.”
This post is not about David Hassler or child pornography. It’s about teachers and trust and the basic truth that if we want to be trusted, there must be radical coherence between our public values and our private behavior. When something like this happens in my community (and this sort of thing happens in many communities) I get angry. I get angry as a man who works with young people, because the David Hasslers of the world poison the well for those of us who are making a huge effort to earn the trust of kids and their parents. We live in a world that is frantic about the threat posed to children by sexual predators of one sort or another; in the public imagination, and rightly so, most of those predators are men. And sexual predators have time and again sought out positions of authority over young people in order to facilitate their own acting out. The secret lives of a few, when made public, make suspects of the many who are working so damn hard to love, nurture, and mentor young people in safe and healthy ways.
I’ve spoken to a couple of Hassler’s former students in the past couple of days. One girl said to me Monday: “Now I wonder what he was thinking about when he looked at me. It makes me feel so disgusting, as if my memories of Mayfield are being ruined. I know I’ll get over it, but right now, it’s just so shocking and upsetting and vile.” But even in her shock, this young woman couldn’t come out and say she was angry at Hassler. “I just keep thinking about him, and worrying about him. I’ve been afraid he’s going to hurt himself or something because of how awful this must be to have everyone know this. Is it weird that I’m so upset but also worried about him?” I assured her that hers was a very normal reaction, and that her anger — if it comes at all — may not come for a long time.
Watching this story unfold strengthens my conviction that in the end, our private lives are never really private. What we do in our own home, behind locked doors, bleeds into our public lives. I don’t have any interest in child pornography, and I never did. But thinking about David Hassler reminds me that everything I do matters. My students and mentees don’t need to know much about my private life. But if I am insensitive to my wife, if I nurture a secret porn addiction, if I relapse on drugs, if I cheat on my taxes or am cruel to small animals, those sins will, sooner or later, lessen my effectiveness as a teacher and a mentor and a friend. The young people in my life don’t need to see the details of what goes on behind closed doors. But if what goes on behind those doors is deceptive, exploitative, illegal or cruel, then sooner or later, those young people whose trust I seek will pay a public price for my own private misdeeds.
We lie to ourselves when we claim that we can compartmentalize with impunity. Though I can’t prove it, I suspect that David Hassler lied to himself about his child porn use. Perhaps he told himself that as long as his students and his colleagues never found out, he could still be a good, safe, effective teacher. But it rarely works that way. His students — and indeed, the entire Mayfield community — are reeling from these very serious allegations. But believing what I do believe about the human person, I am convinced that the darkness Hassler’s double life engendered was already affecting those around him long before he was arrested. And I grieve that for him, and I grieve it more for the young women who this week have felt so shocked, so shattered, so betrayed.
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