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Have you seen a picture of this teacher?
If its the one I think it is, she's SMOKING HOT!!!
yes she is.
to be 13 again...
Smoking hot and deeply disturbed. Yea, that's what I want in a woman.
Doesn't matter how hot she is, You don't do that.
Yeah, baby.
Yep, I'd hit it.... two times.
Ya....these female teacher relationships always turn out great.
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When I was a young man, just prior to the seventh grade, a student-teacher relationship with my grade school music instructor developed into a sexual affair lasting until I was a freshman in high school. I remember, at the time, how wonderful I thought it to be; afternoons after school and weekends of learning new experiences and feelings - growing into a man.
She had said that she was in love with me and, to this day, I believe that was true. I suppose I loved her too or; as much as I could at that age.
One day, during 7th grade, she took me aside and explained that she had missed her period and I was faced with the cascading fear of becoming a father in grade school. It was the first emotional blow of my life and I’ll never forget it. I remember even the weather that day. My fear seems bizarre to me now because, then, I could barely conceptualized what pregnancy was and had no way of understanding the nightmarish problem of how she could sneak the money for an abortion out of her families checking account without her husband finding out. I didn’t even know how enraged my parents and others would be if I did become the father of one of her children; though I suspected the whole situation was not ideal. To our relief her “pregnancy” turned out to be a cyst blocking one of her ovaries and our physical relationship continued on and we never looked back.
Yet, for all the times I enjoyed with her and how much, in one way, they meant to me, in my adulthood I began to take stock of the damage which was done: I never developed the skills of young romance and my ability to relate to girls my age was completely destroyed. I became so inhibited that, even in my early twenties, I could barely speak to women. I never went on dates or even to my prom. Years after the relationship ended I told my parents about it and they finally understood why I had sliced my wrists open one night when I was 15. I lived through that but, sometimes I wonder what the real number of teenagers who don’t make it is. All I really gained from our affair was the knowledge of a man while I awkwardly lived in the world of children.
I wouldn’t have thought to relate this story to you as I feel that I’ve made peace with my experience and my life has moved on, however, all day today—on the radio, in the paper, and through the unaware gossip of my co-workers—I’ve heard all sorts of opinions of the LeTourneau affair and I’ve become flooded with the memories of my childhood. With the definitive hand of having been there I’d like to make something clear to everyone: Mary LeTourneau is a pedophile. There’s nothing more to it. She violated her duty as a teacher and adult to protect children from the graveness of the world. What her student may have learned with girls his age is one thing but, she inflicted permanent damage on a boy who shouldn’t have been with a woman until he was a man. She needs to be put in jail just as any man would be if he manipulated a young girl into bed.
Over the years it’s been interesting to me that the 3 or 4 male friends I’ve told this story to all thought it was a dream come true but, my mother and the few women I’ve told were, each one, enraged and revulsed by it. I’ve wondered why that is but I’ve never been able to figure the answer. I know though, the women’s reaction has been the mature and proper one.
I believe the pain molested boys feel may be fundamentally different from that of molested girls but, one should not convince oneself that it is any less because boys don’t, or culturally shouldn’t, show it. No one should convince themselves for one moment that this boy will live a better or unscarred life from this pedophilic relationship.
There is an irony of how I feel about my experience though – even now when I think about it – I don’t know if I could have sent the woman who molested me to jail. It hurt to be with her but, it would have hurt to lose her too. Life is strange that way.
I don’t feel any better about today Susan but, thanks for reading.