Having a Career as a Career Studies Teacher -- by Anne Shier

Imagine that you’ve been trained and have worked arduously in industry as a technical systems analyst on large computer systems and that you are also qualified as a computer science and computer engineering teacher in a high school. In other words, you’re more than capable of teaching any computer-related subject, particularly at the senior level.

Now, imagine that instead of being given teaching assignments that involve computer science or computer engineering as you’d like, you are now being asked by the principal or a vice principal to teach the easiest course being offered at a high school anywhere—career studies—to a Grade 10 class. This person (a VP) tells you it is merely a “stop gap” in your teaching career, for only one year. She says there is no one else available to teach this subject. But what she really means is, “No one else in this school wants this teaching assignment; it’s just too easy, so now it’s yours.” You have no idea what to make of this new teaching assignment. All you know is that all of your elaborate training to be a computer science and computer engineering teacher of the senior grades is being totally wasted, and the administration doesn’t seem to care.

You try to accept the inevitable and ask yourself, Why not? What’s the harm in doing something different from what I usually do in terms of teaching? It just might turn out to be a terrific experience!

So you tell them you will accept this new teaching assignment temporarily (even though, in your mind, you know you’re being used for something no one else wants and that you are now very under-employed!). You wonder, Well, it could be a really fun assignment, but will anyone in this school ever take me seriously again as a computer science and computer engineering teacher?

As if that isn’t bad enough, the nightmare you never anticipated actually happens! That year (during the first time you ever taught career studies in your life), you are put on the list of teachers who are to be evaluated by the principal or one of the vice principals. The evaluation is to be done via a new legislative process called the Teacher Performance Appraisal (TPA)—not that teacher performance appraisals are anything new, mind you.

This new document, drawn up by the current Tory government in Ontario, is at least 100 pages long and is much more complicated than any previous process of appraising teachers. The evaluation process used to be simpler, more straightforward—something principals could carry out in a day or two. Now the whole process could potentially take months. So something you have known in the past to go smoothly and seamlessly turns out to be anything but. It’s not even your boss’s fault or the fault of anyone who is an administrator working in the school system. The government just wanted to come up with a way to “prove” that many teachers are incompetent, and if that fact could be “proved” by re-legislating the process and then carrying out its mandates, that would be deemed “just cause” for getting rid of teachers the government had long ago decided were “overpaid and under-worked.” It was a totally unfair thing to happen to teachers at that time, but it did happen as a result of the new TPA to some unfortunate teachers somewhere.

Now you are part of a process that turns your days and nights upside down in complete turmoil and causes you to truly wonder if you are, indeed, “teacher” material. You carefully prepare and deliver your chosen career studies lesson (the one to be observed and evaluated). You think it’s a pretty good lesson that involves the whole class in interactive and participatory activities, as it should. Then, just as you think you’ve got this whole new process licked and you should pass with flying colours, you get the bad news—that the evaluator, a middle-aged female VP who has an agenda all her own—declares that the students were not “engaged” in the learning process in your classroom at all, in her mind—that only some of the students were involved in said activities. In her mind, most of them acted bored and didn’t appear to want to be there. Well, that’s no surprise, you think, most of them don’t want to be there, in fact, and are bored as a result. Is that my fault? Kids in Grade 10, with few exceptions, do not tend to like career studies.

Later, in the privacy of her office, this same VP tells you her rating of you on your lesson is “less than satisfactory”! At the same time, she also tells you a certain number of unidentified students had previously already complained about your career studies class. She refuses to tell you who these students are or how many complained.

You ask her, “How come I didn’t hear about any of this before being evaluated by you?”

But she has no good answer for you. From there, the process goes from bad to worse. You tell her she is “full of sh*t” and that you are very upset with her assessment of your teaching ability. (As a matter of fact, you are truly upset, but you try your best to hold on to your temper, knowing that losing it will not help your cause.) You tell her, before leaving her office, that you will get the school’s union representative involved.

When you talk to Michelle, the union representative for the school, she tells you that she will monitor the situation between you and the VP, making sure the TPA process is being followed properly. She tells you that as long as the VP has followed legal procedure, she can’t do anything else for you.

Later, when you get the “post-mortem” (post-observation) reports from the VP, you show them to Michelle. The reports are all negative. Nothing positive is said about you, even though you have done good things for the school and for the board. Any positive contributions you have made up until that moment are being ignored.

At this point, you start to wonder, Am I being “railroaded” or simply losing my mind?

Michelle sympathizes with you, saying that that particular VP has been “on some other planet” in her dealings with other teachers and that every single thing she says must be taken with a very large grain of salt. Perhaps she feels she has something to prove. The news on the teaching grapevine is that she ended up at this school after many transfers, wherein the superintendent (or someone else at that level) said that, at this school, this particular VP should now be safely “out of harm’s way.” After all, what could go wrong at this school? It usually has such great students and staff. Surely this VP could not do any more harm here than she’d already done elsewhere? But the superintendent was so wrong—oh, how wrong he was!

In your last meeting with this VP, you were to discuss a draft improvement plan (part of the legislation’s requirements) where you were to provide your own input. You give her a list of 26 of your own ideas for how to improve as a teacher. You ask the VP (and the union rep., who was also present) whether anything should be removed from the list, but both parties agree with all the stated items. There is nothing on that list that would not have added variety and “zing” to your career studies classes.

Shortly after that last meeting, you get a call from one of the more senior male VPs in your school, a much more reasonable and seasoned person who actually talks to you like you’re a teacher and person who deserves respect—something that was sadly lacking in your dialogues with the first VP. You start to feel good for the first time in months!

He not only offers to re-evaluate you in the coming three months but also offers you a chance to teach a more fun course—marketing—in the near future, despite the fact that you’d never taught marketing before either. But that doesn’t bother you. In fact, teaching new courses never bothered you before, only the people (administrators) who deem themselves “experts” in teaching methodology simply because they were previously teachers for five or so years in the past! So the fact that you still have to teach career studies this term and next doesn’t bother you much at all anymore. After all, it isn’t the course or even those kids who complained that bother you—just that pesky female VP who just didn’t seem to know when to quit harassing you.

Anyway, due to knowing the “CYA” (“Cover Your Ass”) Rule—the cardinal rule of business—you had started documenting everything right after you found out about your unsatisfactory rating from the first VP. Hopefully the union would be willing and able to fight for you if the necessity arose, but it may not have been necessary. This new VP looks like he actually cares about what the outcome of his evaluations will be. He appears to want to make the process as fair and impartial as possible, and you find that you can’t really ask for anything more than that. This time, your evaluation will be a good one, or at least satisfactory, and that has to be good enough for now. Thank God for good and competent school administrators who know what they’re doing and want to do a good job for hardworking teachers like you!

copyright - Anne Shier, 2013, all rights reserved, published by Authorhouse, Bloomington, Indiana, USA

The “Glass is Half-Full” Theory of Life (Part II) -- by Anne Shier

(Inspired by the website http://www.ehow.com/facts_5127032_alcohol-abuse.html.)

After years of continuous drinking, and perhaps trying to withdraw from its powerful pull, a die-hard alcoholic like my uncle Walt had, by this time, become obsessed with drinking to the exclusion of everything and everyone else. I’m sure it was the first thing he thought about upon waking and the last thing upon going to sleep.

        My Uncle Walt had developed a severe drinking problem over a period of years. He became a distant relative whom I did not know well in my adult years. In his youth, he had been a very good-looking young man, with short, dark-brown, wavy hair, a good muscular build, and a drop-dead gorgeous smile. For some unknown reason, he had started drinking as a relatively young man in his teens and did not stop, putting his health, ultimately, at great risk.

Not only that, everyone around him had to know that there was a major problem with his drinking. His physical and mental well-being would have seriously deteriorated, and this fact would have been obvious to those who knew him best. Alcohol would have begun to seriously damage his vital organ systems because his body could no longer handle large amounts of alcohol in the bloodstream. This meant that his physical resistance was lowered and he had become more vulnerable to disease and illness. Alcohol had taken over, and its availability was the only important thing to him. Nothing and nobody else mattered.

Mounting relationship and social problems would have started to occur over time, as well as mounting financial and legal problems associated with prolonged and continuous drinking of alcohol. As far as I knew about Uncle Walt, he did not have any sustainable relationships or friendships, except possibly with other alcoholics.

Walt’s liver function would have been damaged, in particular, further limiting the conversion of nutrients into a usable form that his body could assimilate. His damaged liver cells would not be receiving the needed nutrients; they’d be unable to repair themselves and the damage to his liver would continue to worsen.

Many things can cause the death of an alcoholic: if one continues to drink, alcohol would be the most likely cause of his death in one way or another. From suicide, accidents and related injuries to direct damage to the body’s organ systems, death would most likely be the final outcome of end stage alcoholism. I believe that Walt died eventually of cirrhosis of the liver, a disease that damages and eventually destroys liver tissue. As we all know, one cannot live without a healthy liver.

Although I have not known many alcoholics, I have known a few habitual drinkers who preferred to see themselves as “social” drinkers. These fully-grown adults intentionally drove while drunk, lost their driver’s licences for a year or more, got involved in potentially serious car accidents and could have died or killed someone else as a result of driving while under the influence (DUI). Were they thinking of the damage they could do to themselves and others? I doubt it.

Anyone who has been drinking at a party or some other social gathering should without a doubt have their car keys taken away. There is no way they should be allowed to drive. It would be far better for the alcoholic to “sleep it off” wherever he or she is than to be allowed to drive home in his or her drunken state. When my son was still a fairly young adult and liked having his male and female friends over to party at our place on a particular weekend night, my policy was to let them all sleep it off at our place and go home only after waking up the next day. It made for a lot of young bodies lying around our place that night, but the alternative made it worth it. They would all thank me the next day and were grateful that they’d had a place to sleep it off. I don’t think any of them really wanted to drive home under the influence. In this way, they all stayed safe and I had a clear conscience.
You might be thinking, “What does any of this have to do with my own personal philosophy of life (the glass is half-full)?” I’ll tell you. The fact that I am a positive person helps me to deal with life’s trials and tribulations better. Since I have a better attitude in life, I am not as interested in running away from my responsibilities in life as I am in solving my problems and making my life better as a result. Over time, I have learned to deal with life’s challenges—not seeing them as obstacles or problems, but as challenges that need to be met. With every problem successfully solved, I become a stronger person and am, thus, more able to deal with life’s challenges. It becomes a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy—one that has greatly benefited my life. For certain, if it’s been a benefit to me, then the same will be a benefit to you as well, and make your life better, not damage and perhaps destroy it.

copyright - Anne Shier, 2013, all rights reserved, published by Authorhouse, Bloomington, Indiana, USA

Diary of a Young Woman -- by Anne Shier

Franca was living the full, productive and fun life of a teenager.  Not boring or mundane by any means, there was always something happening in her life, good or bad.  Upon reflection, she couldn’t really tell you whether what happened to her was good or bad.  That was largely a matter of how her friends and classmates at school viewed the individual events of her life.

Franca’s busy teenage years included meeting her high school sweetheart at the age of 17.  She met Byron at the beginning of Grade 12 at Applewood High School.  Byron was a free spirit, so to speak, and when he met Franca, he was certain he could charm her into doing whatever he wanted her to do.  He did not feel that there were any boundaries in his life.  These two were instantly attracted to each other and after they met, there was very little that they did not do together.  They seemed to belong together.

It did not help that Franca was just an innocent, naive young girl who had never before gotten involved with a boy like Byron and had no idea how manipulative and conniving he could be.  She would find out very soon.  A girlfriend of Byron’s could not leave him - ever; he would leave her if and when he was so inclined.

          At the time, Franca was on the cheerleading squad and the track and field and gymnastics teams.  When she wasn’t actively involved with athletics, she was either singing in the school choir or participating in school musicals.  Franca had been in the school performances of “Aida”, “High Society” and “The Little Shop of Horrors” within the last 3 years as an extra.  She enjoyed participating in these highly successful musicals because she loved to sing, but was much too shy to be a soloist.  Nevertheless, Franca was outgoing and vivacious with lots of friends.

Byron, on the other hand, was very much a loner.  He was not a member of any school team nor did any of the other senior students, in general, know him well.  He was the only son in his family (there was a much younger daughter too) and his parents doted on both kids.  Byron was a very handsome, tall guy with short, dark-blond hair, brown eyes and a drop-dead gorgeous smile.  He had been somewhat spoiled due to his upbringing, so nothing interfered with his ability to live life on his own terms.  Young teenage women tended to be attracted to him and he liked to encourage them as often as possible; he loved the attention.  If his parents ever told him that he wasn’t allowed to do something, he would just go ahead and do it anyway and later on explain his behaviour to them.  For some reason, they never took any real action to discipline him.  He was allowed to come and go as he pleased, without responsibilities or boundaries. 

Despite the significant differences between them, all was going relatively well with Franca and Byron until she met another young man named Scotty.  He was a tall Scottish fellow with short, jet-black wavy hair, regal features and a truly beguiling smile.  Like Byron, he was also very attractive to the opposite sex; however, he ignored the young women who followed him around – except for Franca.  He was taken with her blonde, pageboy-style hair, blue-green eyes and a smile that lit up the room whenever she saw him.  She, likewise, was taken with his spectacular good looks, muscular build and magnetic presence.  They started to hang out together whenever Byron wasn’t around, mostly in the cafeteria at lunchtime.  Byron always went home for lunch because he lived right around the corner from the high school, but Franca had to take her lunch to school every day and eat in the cafeteria.  It was inevitable that Scotty and Franca would run into each other on a regular basis.  They enjoyed each other’s company a great deal.

When Byron found out that Scotty and Franca were hanging out together at lunchtime every day, he became furious with her.  He told her she was not allowed to date anyone else because she was “his”.  She asked him what he meant by that remark and he told her that she had better stay away from Scotty for her own good.  Byron warned her, “If you have any intention of dating anyone else, no matter who it is, I will make sure that the new guy in your life thinks that you’re just “trash” – a slut with no morals who will sleep with any guy, any time.”  Franca was totally shocked by Byron’s statement.  He sounded to her like he owned her, like the owner of a dog. 

After Franca heard Byron make this pronouncement about who she could date or just see and who she couldn’t, she likewise became furious with him.  She vowed to herself that he was not going to be able to control who she saw when she wasn’t with him.  She would make sure that he was never the wiser.  To this end, she resolved to keep seeing Scotty (and dating him if it came to that) as often as she liked.  Byron’s needs were going to be secondary from now on.

One day at school, Byron and Scotty ran into each other in the hallway.  Byron said to Scotty, “You know, Franca only wants to see you because she wants to get even with me for something annoying that I said to her.  She doesn’t really want to go out with you.  After all, she’s my girlfriend, not yours.”

To which Scotty replied, “Franca and I are friends.  We like each other a lot and like to spend time together.  It’s too bad if that’s a problem for you.”

To which Byron replied tersely, “If you insist on going out with Franca, you are both going to regret it.  I’ll make sure of that.  Ask her yourself if I will.”  With that retort, they each went on their way.

A couple of weeks later, Scotty asked Franca out for an official date and she accepted with delight.  She told him, “You know that Byron and I have been dating each other for a while, don’t you?  He does not like the idea of you or any other guy asking me out.  However, I decided that if you asked me out, I would go anyway and I would be very happy to do so.  Where do you want to go?”

Scotty replied, “I’d love to take you to the movies.  There’s a good movie on that’s just come out called ‘The Change-Up’, starring Ryan Reynolds and Jason Bateman, playing at the Cineplex Odeon theatre at the mall.  I could just order two tickets online at the Cineplex web site, print them out and away we go!  What do you think?  Will you go with me?”

Franca looked at Scotty with stars in her blue-green eyes and said, “I would love to go to the movies with you – any time!  I don’t give a sh*t about Byron anymore.  He’s always acting like a control freak with me anyway and won’t ‘allow’ me to see anyone he doesn’t approve of.  That includes any guy, especially if he’s good-looking, like you.  As a heads-up, I suggest we go to the matinee instead the evening show.  That way, I can just tell Byron I went shopping at the mall.  It would not be a good idea for him to know right now that we’re together somewhere.  Trust me on this.”

Franca, upon reflection of her recent interaction with Scotty, began to realize that she had a far stronger personality than Byron thought she did.  All she knew for sure was that if she did not go out with Scotty now, she might very well end up married to Byron or someone like him and that was not a future that appealed to her at all.  A guy like that was extremely selfish and only cared about what he wanted.  Her needs were never going to come first with him.

Scotty, on the other hand, was a kind and caring guy who showed sensitivity to her needs and actually listened to her when she talked to him.  Because of that, she had discovered that there was much more to a relationship than a sexual attraction.  Scotty was someone she both wanted and needed to spend time with from now on.

The afternoon that Scotty and Franca went to the movies would change her life completely.  The next day, she told Byron that she was through with him, his chauvinistic, macho-male attitude and his deemed “ownership” of her.  It had occurred to her that she finally believed that she deserved a much better boyfriend than Byron, and Scotty was the boyfriend she both deserved and wanted to have from now on.

Evidently, Byron could not stand the thought of “his woman,” Franca, seeing any other guy—at lunchtime, after school, anytime or anywhere. But Franca had decided Byron was much too afraid to let her be herself or to allow her to associate with other boys, even as casual friends. Scotty, on the other hand, was perceived to be a threat to Byron’s deemed “ownership” of Franca because Scotty was willing to let her be who she really was, and it made Franca realize how much happier she was, and would be, with Scotty as her boyfriend.

copyright - Anne Shier, 2013, all rights reserved, published by Authorhouse, Bloomington, Indiana, USA 

Date with a Predator -- by Anne Shier

(Inspired by an article in the Toronto Sun, December 2010.)

Have you ever met a man online and then impulsively decided to meet him in person? Did you then decide to take your chances and go out somewhere with him? My name is Nicole McGregor. I began chatting with a strange man on a social networking website, designed for such purposes, in December 2007. We talked online for several months on this website. Finally, we agreed to meet in person in July 2008 in a public place. That was fine until I had to use the washroom, and the nearest one was at his condo.

By this time I felt comfortable enough with him that I felt I could go to his condo without fear. He did not seem to be the predator-type—the kind you read about in the newspapers all the time. He appeared to be just an ordinary, average guy. He was a real charmer, the kind of guy you would feel comfortable with because he did not fit the stereotype of a predator. Having been a teacher for several years in a community college (at the age of 38), I felt I could “read” people’s body language fairly well by now; I did not get any bad “vibes” from him, so I thought he was harmless. We’d been talking for several months online already, and I never got the faintest impression that he would do anything bad to me—until I left the washroom at his place that evening.

After I came out of his bathroom, Jordan handed me a glass of wine. He said it was to celebrate the “new” relationship we were going to have.

I asked him, “What ‘new’ relationship, Jordan? I don’t know you that well yet. We need to take the time to know each other much better before anything sexual can happen between us. In time, that may be possible, but for now, it’s not. Besides, I have no protection at all. And having sex with a virtual stranger is not something I would do without adequate protection. If I got pregnant or caught a venereal disease, it would be because of having sex with you, so that is not going to happen.”

He replied, “Fine, Nicole, I’m in no hurry to get involved with you either. Still, let’s toast each other and be thankful we finally met in person.”

To which I replied, “All right, Jordan, as long as you realize I’m leaving right after we have this glass of wine together.”

So we toasted each other, and I drank the wine. After a short while, maybe 15 minutes or so, I started to feel funny. Pretty soon I couldn’t move or speak, and he was watching me very closely. As the effects of the drink became even more pronounced, I found myself face down, passing out fully clothed on Jordan’s bed (I presume I became unconscious), and that is when I believe he sexually assaulted me.

I wasn’t exactly sure what he had done to me, but when I woke up, it was clear that something sexual had happened—only, I couldn’t remember what. However, I was certain I did not consent to having sexual intercourse with him and he already knew that. The thing is, my clothes were in complete disarray. I couldn’t remember anything sexual happening between us, because if there had, I would have fought back.

I asked him to take me home, which he did. We never did talk about getting back together again. I was certain I never wanted to see him again because of what I thought he had done to me.

I phoned the police station right away and laid charges of sexual assault against him, due to the fact that anything sexual that he’d initiated was done while I was passed out on his bed.

When the court date came and it was my turn to testify against Jordan, I told the judge I was lying face down, inert, on his bed, with my eyes closed. To my best knowledge, I did not initiate anything sexual or reciprocate his sexual advances in any way. In my mind, he must have thought I was consenting to sex, however, simply because I was in his bedroom lying on his bed. I didn’t have more than one glass of wine the whole time I was at his place. But that wouldn’t have mattered if he’d drugged my drink. The drug (whatever it was), combined with the alcohol, would have been enough to keep me under his control. He, on the other hand, kept drinking—possibly as much as one full bottle of wine the whole time I was with him; I think he must have been pretty drunk..

The judge agreed with me, saying the fact that I was lying there seemingly passed out with my eyes closed meant I could not have initiated anything sexual with him or responded to his advances. Jordan’s lawyer could only try to shake me in my conviction that I had been date-raped, which he could not. I was firm about the events at Jordan’s condo as I remembered them.

I later found out that Jordan was a married man with a child and out on bail for some other criminal offence. I don’t know if his prior crime was sexual in nature, but he had managed somehow to convince me that he was not a predator-type. So he obviously was not a single man, nor was he a man without parental obligations. He had lied to me, and I had believed him because I didn’t think a man could lie so much and yet be so charming and nice So much for my ability to “read” body language. I resolved to never again go out with anyone I’d met online. More to the point, I resolved to never again be alone with a virtual stranger in a place where I could not easily get help if I needed it. If we had stayed in a public place, calling for help would have been relatively easy to do. I only had myself to blame for whatever happened, even though he was the one who had done the dirty deed.

I wanted to use this experience to help other women and girls who regularly engaged in chatting with strange men online.

I couldn’t help but think that this same thing could very well happen to some young teenage girl who doesn’t have nearly the life experience I do. A man like Jordan could tell her he was a young man of about her age and lead her to think things about himself that were not true. If she wasn’t careful, she might end up in a place alone with him—in his car or apartment—and he could then do whatever he wanted to with her. She would probably not be nearly as assertive as I was and thus might be seduced into something she neither wanted nor asked for. If it could happen to me, it could happen to anyone, any time.

A strange man could tell you anything about himself online. He could tell you he was younger or older than he actually was; he could tell you he was richer than he actually was; he could even tell you he was a young girl or he could tell you he was good looking and then send you a fake photo showing a good-looking guy, and you would probably assume it was him. Conversely, when you first meet someone in person, he can’t lie to you about his physical appearance. And you might be able to guess how old he is or how rich, depending on the circumstances of the meeting.

Still, the best con artists are those who know how to make you believe something that isn’t true. They know how to make you believe certain things about them. You wouldn’t know the whole truth about this man unless you had him checked out. Such things as: Is he married (and to whom)? Does he have any children? Where does he work, or does he even have a job? How long has he worked there? The list goes on and on. People, particularly young girls and lonely women, especially lonely women of means, should be very careful when talking to strange men online. I suppose that my own experience with Jordan taught me a good lesson about criminals and con artists. It’s just too bad that I had to learn my lesson the hard way—by getting date-raped. This kind of illicit sexual activity goes on more than you could possibly believe. And it’s something to be avoided at all costs.

        One day, when I am 20 or 30 years older, I will still vividly remember that I was date-raped by some strange man; it’s not something I will ever forget, nor do I want to. But if any female asks me about date-rape or about chatting with strange people online, I will tell her the whole truth about these issues—be very careful what you tell anyone about yourself, and don’t believe everything you are told about the person you’re chatting online with. You need to meet him in person, and even then, you won’t know everything about him. If he’s a con artist, he can still fool you into believing whatever he wants you to believe. That’s what you really have to watch out for.

copyright - Anne Shier, 2013, all rights reserved, published by Authorhouse, Bloomington, Indiana, USA

April Fools -- by Anne Shier

(Inspired by a story written by Calvin Zhu, winner of “The Writes of Spring Writing Contest,” Campbell Chronicles, June 2011.)

“I love you,” I said, rehearsing a confession of my love for April. I let out a deep sigh and fell backward on my bed. I picked up a picture of my first-grade class and stared at it. I was mesmerized by the tiny faces and the story that this picture held. Eight long years had passed, but I still remember the day the photo was taken. April had just moved to my school and was very shy. When it was time to take the picture, she had remained seated and refused to get up, claiming she didn’t belong in the picture because she had no friends in the class. After a while, the cameraman started yelling, which made her cry. Eventually the entire class got upset about losing their game time and began yelling at each other, and our teacher was frantically running around the room trying to calm everyone down.

I decided to live up to my nickname, “April Fool,” and boldly stepped toward April. I tried making her laugh, but she ignored me. I tried everything I could to cheer her up, but nothing worked. She was rooted to her seat.

In the end, the only thing that worked was when I extended my hand and said, “Come on, let’s go. You shouldn’t make friends wait.”

At first she was very hesitant, but before long she was in place, and the picture was finally taken.

I set the picture down and slowly drifted to sleep. Tomorrow was another April Fool’s Day and I definitely needed sleep.

“Hey, April Fool, what’re you going to do this year?” Doug asked as I arrived at school.

“Nothing, “I said with a smile. “I’m done being a fool.”

“Hey, man, you can’t just give it up. You’re the master!” Doug looked concerned. “Just last year, you put ‘Out of Order’ signs on every bathroom in the school! How can you just give it up?”

“It’s because I’m not an April Fool anymore,” I said as I walked away. I stepped into my class and gazed at the clock. I watched as the hands spun around and around until the day was over.

Later, I saw April out in the school yard and decided it was show time. I walked over to her and could feel my heart race. “April, I think I’ve fallen for you,” I started, staring at her shocked expression. “You’re just too perfect. No boy can resist eyes that shine brighter than every star in the night sky. Nor can they stop themselves from staring at such an unrivalled beauty.”

April’s face turned red, and there was nothing but silence between us. Eventually, she managed to ask, “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine, but I’m …” I stopped.

“You’re what?” She looked me straight in the eye and was expecting an honest answer.

“I’m moving,” I blurted. “I’m telling you all this because I won’t have a chance to in the future, but I want to leave without any regrets, so I’m going to ask you—”

“Anything, just name it,” she said, even before I could finish talking.

“Can I … kiss you?” A gentle breeze blew by, and along with it came more silence.

“Yes,” she eventually said as she gave me a quick kiss.

I put my arms around her and knew it was enough. “April Fools,” I whispered into her ear.

Unfortunately, she didn’t take it as well as I thought. She stomped off angrily, and that was the last time I spoke to April.

The days tumbled into weeks, weeks rolled into months, and eventually, my family really had decided to move. Coincidentally enough, we were moving on April Fool’s Day the following year. All my friends came to a party my family threw, and to my surprise April came too, but she was quiet and didn’t speak much.

As my family was about to take a group picture, I noticed April was still seated. I knew this time I didn’t have to be a fool.

I walked over to her, extended my hand and said, “Come on, let’s go. You shouldn’t make friends wait.”

She was hesitant at first, but she eventually took my hand, gave me a hug and said, “You really are a fool, aren’t you?”

copyright - Anne Shier, 2013, all rights reserved, published by Authorhouse, Bloomington, Indiana, USA

A Marriage Made in Heaven II -- by Anne Shier

Later that same night, after Sheila had made her devastating call to his wife, Cheryl, Todd came home to an empty, dark house. The moment he stepped through the door, he sensed a change for the worst. When he discovered that Cheryl, Janie and Trisha’s clothes and belongings were gone, he knew she knew. He didn’t know whether to feel relief or horror. On one hand, he felt relief that his double life was no longer a secret, yet on the other hand, he felt horror that Sheila had actually had the nerve to tell Cheryl about them, merely in an attempt to keep Todd.

     Unfortunately, he never once blamed himself for the situation—he was too busy blaming Cheryl for deserting him without so much as demanding an explanation. He even blamed Sheila for having the gall to interfere with his first family. Todd could not find it in himself to take any responsibility for what had happened because, in his mind, Cheryl had driven him to be attracted to other women by allowing herself to become less attractive.

  That evening, he sat alone in the dark living room, chain-smoking, contemplating how different things would have been if only Sheila hadn’t “ruined” his life and caused Cheryl to abdicate her role as his wife. He only knew that life without Cheryl and his beautiful girls was going to be intolerable, and he wondered how he had ever let it get this far. But Todd just could not accept his own role in this scenario. Wasn’t it an accepted fact that men who were workaholics simply had to have outlets other than a loving home, a devoted wife and lovely children? Now he was going to have to face a legal battle with Cheryl in an extremely ugly divorce proceeding and, at the same time, deal with Sheila and the increasing demands she was about to make on him. All Todd could think about was that he was the one who’d been deserted by Cheryl. Yet he would be forced to deal with Sheila—a new challenge that might very well prove his final undoing.

  He also felt that the new challenges he was now facing at work had forced him to become a workaholic, and because of that, he and Cheryl had somehow drifted apart. Despite the fact that he loved his wife, he had discovered that he was now more vulnerable to other women. He had innocently gotten involved in a few flirtations at work, thinking it was just harmless fun. He really believed he was above the sort of “fooling around” other married men did. These other men might have their own so-called reasons for their infidelities, but he did not; his wife was the best thing that had ever happened to him and he knew it.

  Sure, she had gotten out of shape after two back-to-back pregnancies and had had no chance to get to the gym to work out as she would’ve liked. He did not resent her for that, but he did hope she would find the time to work out at home, if possible. He needed a wife he was attracted to, and Cheryl had always made sure she was attractive to him. At the same time, Todd wondered if he was being unreasonable, since he knew that she was now very busy with their two little girls. Cheryl was doing her level best to keep up with the increased demands on her time and energy but was finding it difficult, even on the best of days. Since Todd had gotten a well-earned promotion to manager, he was unable to come home on a timely basis most days; in fact, needed to spend even more time at work. It was ironic, really; he wanted and needed his family, but he also needed to put in more time at work in order to be successful. Now he was left with no one and nothing at home.

   The day Todd got the divorce papers from Cheryl’s lawyer, Ryan Lowe, he was shocked, though he knew he was technically in the wrong. Sheila’s call to Cheryl had given Cheryl the legal grounds of infidelity that she needed for a divorce. Although he knew she was within her rights to demand a divorce, he had fervently hoped they could still work things out. Todd knew that he’d been wrong to support Sheila’s “accidental” pregnancy last year and to accept their illegitimate child. He also knew that even though Sheila did share a child with him, she was not the kind of woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Their liaison had been just “one of those things” that happen sometimes between men and women, especially if the man is weak and vulnerable and the woman is conniving and somewhat amoral. He didn’t particularly dislike her, per se, but he knew she was not his “long lost love.” Her “accidental” pregnancy was her excuse for keeping him. Yet here she was, getting between him and his wife, simply because she wanted him. It didn’t seem fair that she could trap him like this. He didn’t see any way out of an extremely ugly divorce from Cheryl, if that’s what she was determined to do.

  One evening, out of sheer desperation, Todd called Ryan the attorney in order to arrange a meeting with Cheryl, since he wasn’t legally allowed to talk directly to Cheryl about the divorce. He decided to make an unusual proposal: that they try a sort of reconciliation for a year. If after a year it was not working out between them, Cheryl could have her divorce—no questions asked. Ryan replied that he thought Todd was just trying to delay the inevitable, and in a sense, he was, but it was the only option left if he had any hope of salvaging his all-but-over marriage to Cheryl.

  After conferring briefly with Cheryl, Ryan called Todd back and confirmed that a meeting was possible, but both parties’ lawyers had to be present, and they would do most of the talking. Cheryl did not want to talk to Todd by herself. Todd was forced to agree to this condition.

  Cheryl’s immediate reaction to Ryan’s question about arranging a meeting with her soon-to-be-ex-husband, Todd, was that she never wanted to see him again. “He is nothing but a scumbag, liar and cheat—the list of his bad-ass attributes is endless. Why the hell should I see him at all to talk about god-knows-what? Something that’s important only to him? I’ll save us all a lot of time now and just say this: I do not give a sh*t about him, now or ever! Or his slutty girlfriend! She can go jump off the nearest cliff along with her illegitimate brat!”

  When Todd heard Cheryl’s initial reaction, he wasn’t surprised. He would have been surprised if she hadn’t said these things in her own particular way.

  Sheila screamed bloody murder when Todd told her about it. “You bastard! How could you do this to me? I have your baby too! You can’t just ignore me anymore! She’s left you now. You don’t have to go back to her, ever! But here you are, practically begging for her to take you back! Well, two can play at that game, and I’m going to show you just what I am capable of. By the time I’m finished with you, you’re going to wish you’d never even met her!”

  Todd looked at her and shrugged. Her reaction was basically just what he’d expected—outrage. But he was determined to get Cheryl back if he could, even if an understanding between them could only be a temporary one. He had to try to salvage what was left, if anything. The idea of spending the rest of his life with Sheila was not something he was ready to contemplate.

  The next day, Todd researched Yellow Pages online looking for a lawyer who handled divorces, and after visiting several websites, was fortunate enough to find Aaron Patterson. On the appointed day, after much discussion between the lawyers, Todd and Aaron finally met with Cheryl and Ryan at Ryan’s offices in downtown Boston. The meeting was set for two p.m. and was expected to last one hour or more. The idea was to draw up a written “contract” to which Todd and Cheryl could agree and abide by. It would last a term of one year.

  At first, Cheryl wanted nothing whatsoever to do with Todd, his lawyer or any proposed contract or arrangement. She wanted nothing less than a clean break from Todd, even if she were to give up all her rights to the house and everything in it. She only wanted sole custody of her two girls. It was quite a while before she would even listen to what Ryan had to say to her about what Todd and Aaron wanted to discuss.

  The gist of Todd’s proposal would be this: Either party could bow out at any time if the other party violated any of the stated conditions in the contract. It would not be a legal contract in the sense that one party could sue the other party, but it would be binding in terms of the new living arrangement. A violation by either party would mean the contract would end, causing an immediate and permanent separation and signalling that the divorce should go ahead. After a year, if the parties had abided by all the stated conditions and wanted to renew the contract for another one-year term, they could do so. There was nothing that would prevent the contract from being fulfilled, except if one party wished to end the contract before the one-year term was up. Either party could end the contract whenever, and for whatever personal reason he or she wanted. It was the best Todd could hope for, given his stated love for Cheryl and his illicit affair with Sheila.

  Sheila, no matter how frustrated and angry, would have to wait for Todd to be legally free, if that ever happened.

  At that point, having learned that Todd had elected to stay with Cheryl as long as their new contract was in force, Sheila became absolutely furious! She vowed to get even with Cheryl and then Todd. She didn’t know how she would do it, but she vowed she would find a way to severely punish both of them. With any luck, Cheryl would not be able to stand it and Todd would then get turfed out and come back to Sheila, as he should. Her plan would take some time to work out the details and kinks, but she had enough faith in herself to pull it off. As for what would happen to her, she did not want to think about it. That part would come much later.

  An agreement that both Todd and Cheryl could live with and abide by was, indeed, drawn up that very afternoon. Against all odds, it was a symbol of hope for Todd’s future with Cheryl.

  He was expected to abide by all the conditions, and there were a considerable number, namely:

1)    He had to find time every day to give Cheryl a break from her child-rearing activities no matter what was going on at work for him;

2)    She had to have enough time to go to the gym three times a week to try to achieve her former attractiveness;

3)   He had to account to her for any time he spent away from his family while he wasn’t at work;

4)     She had to try to make time for him after the girls were in bed for the night; and

5)     They would have separate bedrooms.

    There were other less major conditions as well. There would be no obligation for spousal intimacy, since it was clear this part of their life had been seriously compromised with the advent of Sheila. But they did have to spend time talking about their daily lives with each other. Only by making time for each other and talking on a regular basis could they hope to build a new relationship, maybe a better one than before.

    Sheila could not be part of Todd’s life as she had been. While he could not ignore his parental responsibilities to the child he now shared with Sheila, his direct relationship with her would be much more formal and most definitely platonic. Any hint of sex going on between Todd and Sheila would mean an automatic end to this new contract between Todd and Cheryl. Todd knew Sheila wouldn’t like this contract at all (in fact, she would hate it), but he no longer cared what she thought.

    Todd wanted Cheryl back in his life and was prepared to do whatever it took to get her back. Envisioning his life without her and their two baby girls made Todd determined to abide by the stringent conditions of the new contract and living arrangement they now had between them. If he thought this was going to be difficult, however, he hadn’t reckoned with Sheila.

   Sheila’s reaction, besides outrage at Todd’s seeming apathy to her own situation, was utter shock that he could just, in effect, blow her off and get rid of her like some old piece of furniture. She could not for the life of her understand why Todd was so willing to give her up in the vague hope of reconciling with his wife. After all, she felt, it had to be a crapshoot at best. She was convinced Cheryl was never going to forgive him and take him back.

  Over time, Sheila was having an increasingly hard time keeping her raging emotions from getting the better of her. She knew that if she didn’t do something soon to deal with the situation, Todd was going to regret ever having crossed her. She was determined to get even with them somehow. That meant someone had to die—even if she had to be the one to do the dirty deed.

   Sheila was determined to have her revenge on both of them, one way or another. How she would exact it would be a challenge, however. She did not want to get caught in the act of murder, so she would have to be very clever. In fact, she would have to be so clever that neither party would see it coming and it would be over before anyone could do anything to stop it.

copyright - Anne Shier, 2013, all rights reserved, published by Authorhouse, Bloomington, Indiana, USA

A Change of Heart—Immigrating to Canada -- by Anne Shier

(Inspired by an article in the Canadian Immigrant [Ontario edition], February 2011.)

My husband, Jamie, and I, now living in Canada for a year, had moved here from England with our two young girls. At first we all loved it here. Canada is a truly wonderful place to live. Canadians are terrific people to be around. People everywhere in the world know this. We felt we had as good a chance to succeed at immigrating to Canada as anyone one else. We just had to be sure it was what we wanted and that our marriage was on solid ground. I was soon to find out just how “solid” our marriage really was. We thought we were prepared to come here to build a new life for ourselves without having any other family here. We knew we would only have each other for love and support. It was not really a matter of not being able to do this or not wanting to. We just knew it was the only thing for us to do if we wanted to have a better life for ourselves and our kids. It would be worth any sacrifice we had to make.

In our previous life in England, despite what anyone else might have thought, we’d had to struggle for everything we wanted. Everything (goods and services) was very expensive there. My husband often had to work overtime for our financial support and well-being. That was nothing unusual. Meanwhile, I stayed home with the kids until they were old enough to attend school. Daycare in England was also extremely expensive and not readily available. Without that, it was impossible for me to work outside our home. Somehow I didn’t mind though; I got used to it. I was mainly responsible for the cooking, cleaning and laundry, and my husband would help out with babysitting whenever I had to do the grocery shopping. He said he didn’t mind and I believed him; he was a very good father to our two daughters. He would also help out with doing dishes at night and picking up the kids’ clothes and toys after they’d gone to bed. He said he also didn’t mind doing that either. He was doing his best to be a good husband and father, and I really had nothing substantial to complain about.

I was slowly becoming aware that I was unhappy and restless but had no idea why. After all, we had a much better life here in Canada. Things were still somewhat expensive but were manageable. It became easier, financially, when I started working full time after the kids started school. While we missed our families at home in England, we still felt that coming to Canada was the best thing we could have done. To keep in touch with our families, we bought a laptop computer for ourselves at home and used it to send and receive e-mail; we loved to exchange loving messages and funny pictures and dozens of web links and even chatted online once in a while when it was relatively quiet at home and possible to do this. Having a computer made it easier and cheap to stay in touch with our family members, compared to making expensive telephone calls overseas.

I really should have been a happy camper with my loving husband, our two wonderful girls and our brand-new life here. Unfortunately, some bad things happened to other married immigrant couples, bad things that had caused divorce, wreaking havoc in their lives. That was the way I was starting to feel. I had started to think that working outside the home and trying to fulfill my many responsibilities at home at the same time was becoming too much. I thought I could not possibly be alone in this regard. Women the world over were having to balance a full time job with a full time household role. But it was getting to be too much for me. My husband, as great a guy as he was, still wanted to have some alone-time with me, especially after he’d arrived home from his workday and just wanted to relax with me and have a glass of wine or a nice cup of tea after dinner. Was he asking too much? I suppose not, but it seemed like he had the easier role. All he had to do was go to work and bring home a paycheque. He could relax at the end of his workday, but my “second job” at home would be just beginning after my primary workday was done. I seriously started to resent and blame him, either for my inability or unwillingness to fulfill both roles to the best of my ability. Was it fair to resent and blame him for my inadequacies? Who knows? All I knew was that it was not a good situation and it was getting worse on a nearly daily basis. It was going to be only a matter of time before something gave.

Almost a year later, I’d finally had enough and told Jamie, “I want to go back to England. Living here in Canada is simply not working for me. I’m truly sorry for having to tell you this after everything we’ve all been through.”

This was probably one of the worst things I could have said to him. Completely shocked and dismayed at my words, he asked, “But why, Kate? Why do you want to leave Canada? We have a great life here. You already have access to your family almost anytime you want through the computer. Isn’t there anything I can say or do to persuade you otherwise?”

I told him, “I have found it difficult to work two different jobs to make our life here happen. There is already a lot of stress associated with moving to a new country with a new culture, making new friends, creating a new career for myself and at the same time trying to make my family comfortable. And despite having a computer, it’s not the same as having my family around to hug and kiss me and to talk to about personal problems. I honestly think I would be better off being nearer to my family back in England.”

Jamie tried everything he could think of to dissuade me from wanting to leave Canada, to no avail. If I could have read his mind, I would have seen his thoughts: What could you possibly be thinking? Moving to Canada has been the best thing we could ever have done. What is there in England for us now? What about our kids? What happens to them now that you’ve decided to change your mind about living here?

He seemed to have been convinced that our marriage had adapted to changing circumstances and cultural roles. He knew the kids also loved attending school here. Privately, he thought, I’d hate to uproot them again and move them back to England where we don’t have a hope in hell of creating anything better for ourselves. I don’t think I can do this, not even for your happiness, Kate. So what now? He wouldn’t have to wait long to get his answer. I just had to wait until he could figure it out for himself.

As he sat alone in the darkened living room later that evening, Jamie contemplated his options: Should I uproot my whole family and move back to England with Kate—something I do not want to do? Should I let her go back to England without us? Should I allow her to take the kids with her back to England?

These questions kept circling around and around in his mind, confusing and frustrating him. There was no clear answer. There was something else that kept nagging at him about my need to leave Canada. He just couldn’t seem to put his finger on it. It didn’t seem right that I should be so eager to leave Canada when it was so obvious to the kids and him that Canada was where we all belonged now.

His final thought that night was, Well, there’s really only one way to find out the truth, and that is to ask her what her real reason is for wanting to leave.

Firmly resolved, he decided to sleep on it, with the idea that if he still wanted to get at the truth of the matter he would indeed ask me about it in the morning.

When we all got up, it was a Saturday morning, so no one was in any hurry to get anywhere. So, Jamie thought, This is my opportunity to get you to admit the real truth—so here goes …

“Kate, could we have a heart-to-heart talk about this move you’re contemplating? What I need to know from you is—what it is you are really after in England? What’s in England that we don’t have here?”

“I’ve been very unhappy balancing my full time job at the office with my full time job at home,” I replied. “You know that. At the same time, there seems to be something missing in my life because I just can’t put my whole heart and soul into doing these things. So I started chatting online and sharing my life with others to see if I was alone in how I felt. Eventually, I met a man online who totally empathized with me and seemed to be kind and caring at the same time. We sort of hit it off right from the beginning. We’ve been chatting and exchanging e-mails now for three or four months. I’m now at the point where I want to get to know him better. To do that, I have to go back to England because that’s where he lives. I’m so sorry that I have to do this to you and the girls. I suppose we should get a divorce too since I’m planning on leaving you.”

The shocked paleness of Jamie’s face told me everything that he was feeling. Jamie, in an initial state of shock, said, “You mean you want to leave me and the kids for another man? How could you do this to us? I know it’s difficult immigrating to another country, but coming to Canada has been a good move for us. Do you honestly think this other man is going to support you financially in England? If that’s what you believe, I think you’re deluding yourself. He is only interested in a temporary affair with you. When he’s tired of you, he’ll dump you the way you’re dumping me and the kids.”

Thinking about Jamie’s words, I said, “I’m really sorry, Jamie, but nothing you say now will make any difference. I need to be nearer to my family. They are much more supportive, emotionally, than you are. As for the financial aspect, I’ll still have to find a job in England since expecting some other man to support me is totally unrealistic. That might be his choice, but I’m not banking on it. If you love me, you’ll let me go and that’s it.”

Jamie, still totally shocked, replied, “I have to think about this, Kate. Meanwhile, you should be thinking about how you’re going to tell our kids about this. I am not going to be the ‘heavy’ in this case. It’s up to you to break the bad news to them. If they can handle it, maybe I can too eventually.”

That night I broke the news to Kimmie and Kerrie, and they sobbed their little hearts out. Telling them made me cry too. I wished more than anything that I hadn’t had to say that kind of thing to them, but it wouldn’t have sounded right coming from anyone else.

“My darlings, I hope you can forgive me one day for what I have to do right now. I promise to stay in touch with both of you on a regular basis, by letter, chat and email. And I would like to visit you once in a while, if at all possible. I need you to know how difficult this is for me to do. And I also need to know that you will accept it.”

Two weeks later I left for England, telling myself I was doing the right thing. But the “right thing” wasn’t so obvious. Who was it really right for? I wasn’t ready to answer that question yet. But now that I was doing what I’d chosen to do, I would have to stand by my decision, hoping I hadn’t done irreparable damage to my relationship with my daughters. Only time would tell if our love was strong enough to sustain us.

Eventually, Kimmie and Kerrie realized and told me they knew I had done something that made me happy, and even though they experienced deep grief at losing me, they gradually learned to accept the inevitable. They accepted it because they knew I truly loved them and wanted only the best for them.

copyright - Anne Shier, 2013, all rights reserved, published by Authorhouse, Bloomington, Indiana, USA

A Call for Help II -- by Anne Shier

The question always seemed to come down to the same thing: Why weren’t spousal abusers always being successfully charged and prosecuted in Canadian courts? One premise is that the courts have to have some physical evidence of the abuse or at least the testimony of the victim and/or one or more witnesses to the particular offence. Without evidence, a victim of physical abuse has very little chance of getting some legal relief or justice, not to mention the fact that most victims are too afraid of future retribution to want to file charges in the first place. However, if such evidence can be presented to the courts, then the probability of conviction of such abusers is much greater.

Small wonder Julia Jones was so reticent about filing charges against her husband, Evan, and taking him to court—she would have had to live with the result if, by some miracle, he was acquitted. She was smart enough to realize the odds of success were not in her favour. He had too much of a chance of being released without a jail term and of returning home to vent his rage on her in ever-more-heinous and harmful ways.

There is a critical question to be answered: Is it alcohol overindulgence that makes a man abusive or his own mean nature? In Evan Jones’s case, it probably would have been both—a naturally mean personality fuelled by alcohol’s reduction of his inhibitions. Either he had to quit drinking altogether for good or consciously change his behaviour and attitude, or both. From where I stood, it might be possible for him to quit drinking with the help of organizations such as Alcoholics Anonymous, but I seriously doubted he could, or would, be able to change a personality that had taken him a lifetime to develop. Possibly it had all started when he was a child; that is, he had probably been physically abused, and this had created and fuelled a rage that just grew over time until he was finally old enough to leave home. Ironically, without getting help for himself from a support group for abusers, he might never gain a complete and true understanding of the early roots of his own victim-hood.

Essentially it was the job of the psychologists to counsel the support group that my new friend—his wife, Julia—now attended to increase her own awareness of how the abuse began, why it was continuing and how to end it. The courts would also try to do their part, although there was no guarantee of justice even when the evidence was there. But in the absence of such evidence or testimony from the victim, other steps had to be followed. The only thing that could change over time would be that the courts might be able to convict an abuser without the testimony of the victim. In that case, a police report taken at the scene, along with the police officer’s testimony, might suffice in its place. It would ideally take the cooperation of the victim and her abuser to stop the abuse, in the present and future. It might seem improbable yet possible.

 After Julia started attending the meetings for victims of physical and emotional abuse, because I was her friend and confidante, she would tell me afterward what they had discussed. She didn’t want to give me any particulars about any one woman’s abusive situation, but she did want to tell me the kinds of questions that were asked of the victims. It was the way to determine if they were, indeed, victims of abuse. The counsellors wanted to make the victims aware of what constituted abuse, which could take many forms, and that, if they weren’t already aware, they had to become aware of these forms.

          She would tell me, “Nina, the counsellors wanted to know about each victim’s innermost thoughts and feelings! I was wondering at the time: What could they possibly mean by that? They would ask us things like do you feel afraid of your partner much of the time? Do you avoid certain topics out of fear of angering your partner? Do you feel that you can’t do anything right for your partner? Do you believe you deserve to be hurt or mistreated? Do you wonder if you’re the one who is crazy? Do you feel emotionally numb or helpless? You know, as a matter of fact, I think that a lot of the time, I do feel afraid of Evan, and sometimes I feel totally numb at the same time because to feel any kind of emotion would have made the abuse too traumatic to handle.”

She would add, “When you’re a victim and it’s your husband who’s abusing you, the counsellors also want to know all about your partner’s behaviour. For example, they ask, does he belittle you? Does he behave violently or in a threatening way toward you? Does he constantly try to control your behaviour? Later in the session, we would break off into smaller groups and discuss one of these aspects of the abusers’ behaviour. I guess the idea is to make the victim question what her abuser is doing to her to be certain that it is abusive behaviour and that it should not to be tolerated by the victim.

The counsellors would present these queries to us: “Do you have any idea just how many female victims are out there? Why do so many exist? And why do they put up with such terrible treatment, especially from their male spouses?”

Julia then asked me what I thought about such issues.

I would tell her, “Julia, you have been mistreated and abused by Evan for so long that to you, the situation at home seems ‘normal.’ But someone outside of your situation looking in, especially a trained observer, would be able to dispassionately determine that you are indeed a victim—you just aren’t aware of it. You might actually be thinking you deserve his mistreatment, which is complete and utter nonsense! If I were a counsellor at one of your meetings, this is what I would say: ‘There are so many different signs that you’re in an abusive relationship that it seems impossible that, as a victim, you would not be aware of them’. Here is an example of what I’m talking about: your partner’s controlling behaviour. Maybe some people wouldn’t think of that aspect as something that is considered abuse. Behaviour such as, does he act excessively jealous and possessive? Does he control where you go and what you do? Does he keep you from seeing your friends and family? Does he limit your access to money, the phone, or the car? Does he constantly check up on you? All of this can be considered abuse of an emotional type.’

One day Julia said, “Nina, you’ve never mentioned how you’ve been affected by abuse. Were you ever abused in your life?”

“Yes, I was,” I replied. “It happened a long time ago, in my childhood. My stepfather and I were always at each other’s throats. I seemed to be able to bring out the worst in him. He could get angry with me at the drop of a hat, and when he did, he was on the warpath, so to speak. When he was like that, he wasn’t going to rest until I was punished. When he punished me, it was by beating me hard with a leather strap on my backside; being punished by him felt more like torture. I’ve never forgotten those times, and I definitely would not want to be that kind of parent to my own kid. It hurt me way too much, physically and emotionally.”

“So how did you deal with it? How long did you keep putting up with it? Why didn’t your mother intervene to help you?”

"I put up with it until I was old enough to speak up for myself. When I turned 17, a particularly traumatic episode happened when he punched me hard in the jaw. I left home after that incident but never called the police; I was deathly afraid of him. So I called my boyfriend instead, and he took me to his house and his parents allowed me to stay there for a month. Later, when I returned home, I was determined never to accept that kind of treatment from my stepfather again. I meant it then and I mean it now. However, that did not mean he didn’t still want to abuse me. He just found more emotional ways in which to torment me after that. I think my mother was also somewhat afraid of him when he was in a rage, so she might have felt helpless in those situations.”

“So I do have the choice of walking away from my husband’s abuse?” Julia asked.

“Julia, you must know you always have choices. You are an adult, and even though Evan is your husband, that doesn’t give him the right to hit you. He might apologize for abusing you right after the fact, but that doesn’t excuse any of it. As you already know, I have been abused and I’ve had to cope with the aftermath somehow. My advice to you is this: if you really want to leave Evan, you will have to go to a shelter or safe house. These places have been created for women like you, and while you’re there, he will never be able to bother you again. You can then get a restraining order, and that means that the police will protect you from him. Don’t ever forget that you always have choices. You never have to put up with any kind of abuse from anyone.”

“Nina, I know you’re right, but I’m deathly afraid of him. I know that if I don’t face up now to what he’s been doing to me, knowing that it is abuse and should not be tolerated under any circumstances, I will always be a victim. What am I to do? Leave him or let him have the sadistic pleasure of hitting me whenever he gets the impulse? You know, if he was hitting some other member of my family, I would never let him get away with anything, ever. The rhetorical question is, why have I been letting him get away with hitting me?”

“Okay, Julia. Here’s the thing. If you want my help as your friend in leaving him, you have it. I will be there for you, through thick and thin. But if you choose to stay with him and allow him to keep hitting you, there isn’t a thing anyone can do for you—not me, not anyone. At that point, you run a grave risk of death at his hands. You have to make a difficult choice now to leave him and be prepared to stick by it. It’s the only chance you have of ever being free from him and his abuse. I will help you by pointing you in the right direction so you can get counselling and support. I assure you you’ll need lots of it. No one can just walk away from an abusive situation without help from the outside. I tried to do it myself, but it was virtually impossible. However, I promise you that the effort you make toward changing your abusive circumstances will be well worth it.”

copyright - Anne Shier, 2013, all rights reserved, published by Authorhouse, Bloomington, Indiana, USA