We can’t change the past, but we could try to make a better future

To the Editor:

I will continue with the use of the honorific “alumna” to maintain her anonymity, and keep the below paragraph in mind when applied to my own experiences as I recount them here [“Woman claiming sexual abuse by her sixth-grade teacher in the 1960s files against GCSD,” The Altamont Enterprise, July 20, 2021].

“The court papers list four causes of action against the Guilderland school district and school board, stating that the defendants ‘breached their duty of care’; ‘were negligent in the hiring of their employees’; ‘were negligent in the training, supervision, and instruction of Roderick Buckley’; and ‘Negligently retained Roderick Buckley in a position where he had access to children and could foreseeably cause harm ….’”

I would never have had to endure Mr. Buckley if I had been better at math. The district was moving to a “modular” system whereby teachers could utilize 45-minute periods for special projects. A couple of times a week, the weak math students would go to Buckley, and Mr. Cook (my assigned teacher) would help students who were weak in science. 

I hadn’t attended very many of these remedial classes before I had to witness what Buckley was capable of. My first encounter involved being thrown physically out of his room for wearing Beatle boots (formerly known as “Italian style shoes” with a high heel and a pointed toe).

By “thrown physically,” I mean grabbed by my belt and tossed so hard I lost my footing and slid on my stomach into the open door of the adjoining classroom. The remedy for this was that I had to bring an extra pair of shoes with me on days when I was going to have Buckley.

This brings me to the activity that Buckley was best known for to students long before I entered his classroom. He handed out a 10-problem quiz and said “Everyone begin; eyes down!” He then immediately went over to [name withheld] and began looming over her, saying “Here, dear, let me help you with this.” I could see her shuddering and hear her sobbing.

It’s one thing to slam me up against a locker for wearing the wrong shoes, but this was more than I was willing to put up with. I stood up. The following is pretty much verbatim:

Me: “Leave her alone!”

Buckley: “Mr. Muzzy, get back to your quiz. Eyes down!”

[Name withheld]: “Leo, stop it!”

This is where I realized that there was something going on beyond my understanding of right and wrong. I tried once again to get Buckley to stop, but I have to say, [name withheld] wasn’t helping. It was clear that she was afraid, but I had nothing to fear. What’s the worst that could happen? Another thrashing?

Buckley told me to sit down, and I said, “I will not” — and walked out of the classroom and down the hall to the principal’s office, the office of Mr. Quint.

Those events, and the events of the next few days, shaped my life forever. I made decisions a 10 year-old child should not be making. And I stuck to them. For better or for worse, never in my life have I held a position where I had to wear a suit and tie. And I did have offers. I turned them down.

When Quint told me that no girls had ever come forward, I was flabbergasted. But I was still learning. I confronted these victims directly and they would not come forward. I called one girl at her house who had been made to sit on Buckley’s lap, and her father took the phone away and told me to never call again. I got three-quarters of the class to sign a petition, but none of the victims would add their name.

After the petition, I was summoned to the office on the P.A. [public address], and when I got there my mother was in there with Quint, beside herself in tears. This is also verbatim:

Quint:  “Sit down, Leo.”

Me:  “Why is my mother crying?”

Q: “Please have a seat . . . “

Me: “NO!  Why is my mother crying?”

All of this going on over my mother’s inconsolable sobbing.

Q: “Leo, this is going to go on your permanent record . . . “

Me: “What is? That Mr. Buckley feels up the girls?”

Obviously I could go on, but that incident ended with me walking out of the front door of the school and going home. I was either 10 or 11 years old and I had way too much to think about. The narrow result was that I never went back to Buckley’s math class, and he finished out his career, a groper until the bitter end, operating with the full faith and credit of the Guilderland School District.

I would like to extend this as it pertains to “alumna’s” complaint of her distrust of adults/attitude toward authority.

When Mr. Quint said that my efforts to do the right thing would follow me into high school, it was not an idle threat.

I would like to think that there is someone still among the living that remembers this the same way I do ….

All of this in the hope that those who read this and see themselves somewhere in here will be motivated to come forward. I know it’s been a long time, and we can’t change the past, but we could try to make a better future. These are our children, after all. Give them courage.

Leo Muzzy

Eugene, Oregon

Editor’s note: The Enterprise does not publish the names of victims of sexual abuse and so withheld the name of the sixth-grade girl referenced in this letter.

 

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