True Stories

But You're My Teacher...

To this day I can't stand the subject of Psychology. It all stems from that one "Intro to Psychology" course I took my sophomore year in college taught by perhaps the worst professor ever. My aversion to psychology runs deep, and it has everything to do with Professor Peters, but not because he couldn't teach.

Before I begin, I should say I've never told this to anyone before. I mean why would I? No one would've actually believed that distinguished, tenure-tracked Professor Peters tried to make me have sex with him. Besides, maybe they'd have thought that I'd asked for it or something, I mean, I attended all his office hours religiously and I did go over to his house when he offered. But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself, I ought to start at the beginning.

Last semester, I enrolled into an "Intro to Psychology" course. I had never taken psych before and it seemed like it would be a cool course, plus there was this young new professor teaching the course. Dylan, as Professor Peters insisted his students refer to him, was not your conventional, stuffy middle-aged faculty member; I mean the guy was hot. But this didn't make the course any easier. I was struggling from day one and by the time the midterm came around, I was a wreck. He had always seemed really friendly and approachable, so I got all the extra help I could. Often I was the last student in his office during tutorials, and it was during those visits that Dylan began to show a different, less professor-ish side of him. I found him extremely funny and I'm embarrassed to admit now that I was probably flirting with the guy, but I swear to you I never expected what eventually happened. He would often give me compliments when we were alone which would make me a little uncomfortable because, you know, as cute as he was, he was still my teacher.

After the midterm when I realized I was on the borderline of failing the course, I approached Professor Peters after class and asked if there was any way I could bring my grade up. I was mildly shocked when he suggested coming over to his house to discuss it over dinner, but then again I had heard of many new teachers who, attempting to break down the walls the between them and their students, would sometimes hold study groups and lively discussions in their own homes. Besides, I told myself, Professor Peters lived in faculty housing on campus, what could possibly happen when I was but a five-minute walk from my own dorm? And I was desperate to bring my grade up as my scholarship depended upon it. I convinced myself I was being paranoid and that he probably just wanted to help me out. How wrong I was.

I arrived at his house and was pretty nervous since I'd never been to a professor's house before. I declined a glass of wine when he offered and had water instead, but he had already begun drinking. I sat down and started asking him what I hoped were intelligent questions about some psychology research I'd read about. He kept on changing the subject and drinking more wine. Feeling anxious about having even agreed to come over, I asked him point blank what I could do to pull up my grade and he told me I'd need to sleep with him. I wanted to run away. But I was frozen. I couldn't really believe what I was hearing. And now, months later I still can't believe what happened, that he actually grabbed me and tried to make me have sex with him; the way he whispered in my ear that it would all be worth it.

I pushed him off of me and ran out. I was so scared, but I couldn't talk to anyone about it. I felt they wouldn't believe me. Or that somehow I was responsible or should have known better. Should I have?

This is an example of abuse of power. A teacher cannot request sexual favors in exchange for a good grade. Still, victims in these situations often blame themselves. Nothing a person does or doesn't do makes it okay for someone to touch them when he/she doesn't want them to.