I Always Believe the Children

Yesterday, I responded to a jury summons, showing up at the courthouse along with 160 other potential jurors to sit and wait. I've done this before, so I knew to bring reading material.

Most people I know do whatever they can to get out of jury service. I won't say they lie, because that would be a crime, but I know they often stretch the truth in order to avoid spending a day -- or potentially many days -- performing this civic responsibility. Thomas Jefferson felt that showing up for jury duty was more important than voting. I know this because that's what the judge who welcomed us told us just before sending us to another set of chairs where we again waited.

The last time I was called I was excused because the assault and battery case was going to take place during a week I was scheduled to keynote a conference. This time I was genuinely hoping that it would work out for me. Everyone I know, including my wife, who has actually sat for a trial has told me they found it a rewarding experience, which was exactly what the presiding judge told this mass of potential jurors. (There was a lot of salesmanship in the process yesterday; a lot of praising us for showing up, and a lot of inspirational talk about how vital jury trials are to our democracy.)

I immediately knew, however, that I was going to request to be excused when we were told that this criminal trial was expected to take the entire month of March, requiring the jury's all day presence Monday-Thursdays. I just can't afford that kind of commitment. After a long, detailed description of how the county's court process works, including introducing us to the prosecuting and defense attorneys, we were told that the defendant was charged with six counts of molestation of a child under six years old.

My gut clenched.

Every eye the courtroom went to the young man in the defendant's chair. This was going to be a long, brutal month for everyone involved. 

You can't follow the news at all these days without being confronted by gut-wrenching stories about the abuse of girls and young women. It's horrifying, yet I hope it's ultimately a good thing that light is finally being shone on this hidden, rotten part of our culture. It's estimated that fewer than 10 percent of sexual abuse cases are ever even reported. I'm guessing that this percentage is much lower for abuse involving children, if only because, as a society, we tend to dismiss, ignore, excuse, and generally sideline children, especially those under six. Especially because pedophilloic abusers are so often trusted, even beloved, friends or family members. Especially because we still don't value or trust girls and women as we should.

The judge had previously cautioned us about the foundational legal principle of "innocent until proven guilty," but as I considered this defendant, his eyes fixed on the table in front of him, I felt a surge of anger and revulsion toward him. I recognized it as a cumulative feeling, one that has been building slowly for decades, then far more rapidly in recent months as many of the world's most powerful men are now credibly suspected of committing this, the most unforgivable of crimes.

I am a man who has spent much of his adult life in the company of young children. People in our profession often wonder why more young men don't choose it. We wonder if it's the low pay or low prestige, but as a man in the profession, I can tell you that this is something you have to think about every day. In my decades as an educator, I never allowed myself to be alone with a child. I know that we're all supposed to do that whatever our gender, but as a man, it's crucial. For some, the very fact that I chose this profession places me under suspicion. 

It's not pleasant, but at the same time, I understand it. The vast majority of abusers are male. I've always known that if I was going to work with young children I could never give anyone any reason for doubt. It's part of the reason I value the cooperative model: I spent my days with children and their parents, 5-12 of whom were in the room with me at any given time as a community. I never took children to the toilet or changed diapers. I kept myself on display at all times, which, of course, creates its own kind of stress. When educators complain about cameras being installed in their places of work, I understand their objections, but also, you know, welcome to my world. We fantasize about returning to the village. A key feature of a small, tightly knit community is that everyone is in your business all the time, which may feel intrusive, but it makes it much harder to get away with evil acts. That's something to consider.

Before accepting my teaching position at Woodland Park Cooperative Preschool, I sat down with my mentor, Tom Drummond, an instructor at North Seattle College. I asked him point blank, "What do I do if someone accuses me of molesting a child." His answer: "You'll have to move to Bimini." There is no coming back from an accusation, even a spurious one. So, I've lived with that on my shoulder for my entire career.

Please don't think I'm complaining. My own difficulties are nothing compared to the crimes committed by abusers. The extra scrutiny is necessary to keeping young children safe. I'm sharing this because this is what was going through my mind as I considered the criminal case before me.

I was excused from jury duty. I don't know if I would have been capable of being an impartial juror, although I suspect that my background would have made me attractive to the defense: a man who works with young children. Maybe I'd have even been acceptable to the prosecution. I mean, a preschool teacher is likely to be incredibly empathetic and compassionate toward the victim(s). Of course, my background may well have disqualified me for both sides.

There's a part of me that feels like I have betrayed the young victim(s) by not trying to be seated on that jury, despite the hardship it would have caused me. My instinct is to believe children and I had the opportunity to be their champion. But, of course, that's not the job of a juror. The job is to be impartial, to determine the facts, and to otherwise presume innocence. 

Being honest with myself this morning, I cannot presume that man's innocence, even as I know that there is a chance that he isn't guilty. I could never in good conscience be his juror because in my heart, I always believe the children.

Trust children. Nothing could be more simple, or more difficult. Difficult because to trust children we must first learn to trust ourselves, and most of us were taught as children that we could not be trusted.   ~John Holt

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