After a default career in
accounting, he decided he wanted to spend more time with his then 5-year-old,
so he resigned from the company he worked for and started working at his son’s
Out of School Hours Care Centre (OSHC). “Going from a healthy six-figure salary
to earning less than the amount I used to pay in tax, well, it was hard.” That
was nine years ago.
Jamie, C. spends his time
providing meaningful play opportunities for children. “I used to think that
being an accountant was the best job in the world, but you can’t beat working
with kids. It’s just a shame that there’s so much crap you have to deal with.”
Crap! What crap? Well, there’s
the slower career progression, the appalling pay and the mistrust that emanates
from co-workers and parents. Given all that, what is it that motivates him to
work with children? Jamie’s motivation to work with children is the same as
that of his female counterparts; he likes kids and enjoys the fact that he can
make a positive difference in the lives of children, some of whom may come from
challenging backgrounds. No one would dispute that children need a positive
male role model within the early education context. Unfortunately, ignorance
and prejudice seem to be rife.
Jamie, C. sips at his latte,
nodding towards the two children still playing on by their grandparent’s table.
“There was a time when I could have smiled and waved at those kids.” He shakes
his head sadly, “I still could, but all eyes would be on me.”
The heavyset man leans back into
his chair and exhales. “I used to walk into a client meeting, and I’d feel like
crap. The clients were rude, unappreciative and generally unpleasant. It was
emotionally draining.” He bites the bullet and gives the two kids a wave, and
is rewarded by a pair of smiles. “That’s why I work with kids”, he beams. “They
are the most friendly, appreciative and forgiving clients in the world.”
As if on cue the children’s
grandmother looks up and then protectively pulls them around the table, whether
consciously or subconsciously putting a wooden barrier between them and Jamie.
It is a potent illustration of what he was saying. He shrugs and takes another
sip of his coffee. Men who work with children appear to have been universally
demonised, by an almost evangelical return to the myth regarding strangers
stealing children from under the noses of their friends.
Sadly, those men willing to work
with children find themselves under intense scrutiny from parents, and their
female co-workers, especially since the high-profile child molestation cases
such as the 2013 Jonathan Lord case and more recently the Royal Commission into
Institutional child sexual abuse, and the Catholic Church in Australia. For
parents, it must seem like every day the media contain more horrific
revelations, and so it’s little wonder the spotlight of suspicion has focused
on male childcare workers. But is this haloing effect justified?
Hayley H is the Co-ordinator of a
childcare centre on Sydney’s leafy North Shore. “it wasn’t until our new
director started four years ago, that I’d ever worked with a male, and to be
honest, I didn’t want to.” She laughs self-consciously, “that sounds terrible
doesn’t it?” Hayley had always been suspicious of the motivations of men
working with kids. “I’d always believed that working with children, was…” She
struggles with words, her mind obviously trying to process her thoughts. “Well,
better suited to women.”
Hayley’s stereotypical belief is
universal, not only amongst childcare workers but also parents. There appears
to be an engendered assumption that childcare is women’s work and men wanting
to work in the industry are, as one parent bluntly put it, “It’s not men’s
work. So, they are either gay or bloody paedophiles trying to get close to
kids.” Pretty extreme. However, blogs such as Reddit are full of such posts
from parents expressing a high level of mistrust regarding male childcare
workers looking after their children. There’s also a distressing melding of two
separate points, i.e. that being gay equates to being a paedophile.
“It upsets me that just because
I’m gay, that parents might think I’m only working with kids to groom them”,
says Matty, B. a nineteen-year-old educator. “I can see the way parents look at
me, and some of my co-workers continually question me about why I want to work
with kids.” He shakes his head, his eyes watery with tears. “They don’t do that
to the girls working at the centre.”
Given that an individual’s
sexual orientation bears no relation as to whether or not they are a potential
paedophile, there is obviously ingrained bigotry and prejudice that the media,
social as well as mainstream, use to help flame societal fears. Equally concerning
is the presumption that all male childcare workers are predatory paedophiles.
For male childcare workers
like Jamie and Matty, going to work each day and knowing that every move they
make is being evaluated and scrutinised and that a single misinterpretation of
their actions could be seen as ‘grooming’ the result of which could involve
devastating personal consequences, puts horrendous pressure on them. Jamie is
understanding, “I get it. Every time you turn on the TV, a priest or teacher is
being arrested. And they are always men. Parents are scared.”
Archie McKane is the
director of a small not-for-profit childcare centre and has the first-hand
experience of the mistrust and anger of some parents. “I was working at a
centre in Narrabeen, and several parents removed their kids because I was
there.” For Archie, the experience was a real eye-opener; it made him feel
uncomfortable and certainly impacted on his interactions with the children in
his care. Since then he has seen many talented male childcare workers leave the
industry due to the pressure they felt to continually demonstrate that they
were ‘safe’ to be working with children. Every single negative interaction
compounds the stigma for the male worker. “One of the worst things,” he
recalls, “is that they’ll stand there and say it to your manager in front of
you and the kids.”
“The centre I run now is
great. I have a healthy balance of male and female workers. And, well to be
blunt, the parents are more enlightened.” Archie believes that no two centres
are ever going to be the same. You have to view them, he argues, concerning the
different social contexts; there are independent variables that come into play,
for instance, the catchment demographics, the past experiences of the workers,
familial and cultural attitudes. It all forms a cocktail, which on occasion, is
unpalatable.
One such occasion is that of male
workers in early education changing nappies. Alicia, K, a music therapist
doesn’t have a problem with males working in early education until it comes to
what is viewed, understandably as an intimate moment by most parents. “I had to
ask the room leader not to let the male carer change my daughter’s nappy. I
know it’s wrong to think like, but it’s something I just can’t come to terms
with.”
Knowing that parents,
co-workers, and on occasion even the boss, are watching you like hawks, can’t
be conducive to a relaxed and positive working environment. Jamie agrees, “It
can be awful. The female carers can hug the kids even can change them if they
have an accident in the toilets, but not me. I get sent off to clean the
toilets, or I’m thrown the sports shed keys and told to get a game going. I’m a
bloody father, I know what I’m doing.”
Up until recently, Jamie,
C. was studying a master’s degree in primary teaching, but his experiences over
the last few months have him questioning his future. “There’s no presumption of
innocence if you’re a man, you’re guilty until you leave the industry.” Jamie’s
sense of disappointment is echoed by Jake, who also studying to be a primary
school teacher. “When Kain, he was here before me, left, I overheard two of the
female staff, talking about how Kain had been odd with the kids. I thought WTF?
He was great, the children loved him and, well, he never did anything remotely
suspicious.” Jake describes an atmosphere of suspicion, mistrust. Talking to
male primary school teachers paints a similar picture, where second-guessing
oneself and being on guard, are continuous.
Felicity J., a primary
school teacher in Willoughby, has watched male colleagues buckle under the
weight of unseen forces. “It’s emotionally draining; the constant fear of an
accusation takes its toll and certainly contributes to men opting out of the
primary/early education sector.”
The early education sector
needs more men. But what has become
apparent is that societal attitudes
especially ingrained gender role stereotyping, and the current hysteria around
sexual abuse is creating a toxic working environment for males working in
caring professions. The fact that a child is more likely to be abused by a
member of the family or a family friend is ignoring; instead, we seek to
negatively label those that go against stereotypical roles as being weird, odd,
less than manly. But why should that be the case?
There are plenty of
cultures around where our version of gender roles has been successfully
turned on its head. For instance, the woman of the Aka in Africa go out and
hunt for food to sustain the tribe, while the men are happy to stay at home and
look after the babies, even to the point of allowing them to suckle their
nipples. Although it’s hard to imagine any educational institution in the West
allowing the latter to become part of our childcare culture, even though male
lactation is scientifically recognised. Mother’s breastfeeding in public almost
brought about the end of the world, imagine what would happen if Father’s
started doing it too?
Our cultural encoding
prepares us for our male and female roles. From what we see our parents doing
at home, to how men and women are portrayed in books, in magazines and on the
TV, movies and the lyrics of songs. Sure, it’s changing, but there are
centuries on ingrained falsities to overcome; women are caring and motherly,
while men are tough and aloof; a very Victorian (the era not the state), take
on parental roles, and we all know what the Victorians were like.
Sophie M. primary school
teacher in Narrabeen suggests that before parents or colleagues even get to
know a male teacher, they are already assessing and judging them as a potential
abuser. “Everything a male colleague does is seen through abuser tinted
glasses. It is so unfair.”
Such negative pressure destroys
confidence and self-esteem, and in extreme cases has contributed to individuals
suffering from depression and ultimately considering suicide. Kevin, W.
Recalls, “One of the parents accused me of talking inappropriately to her
child. It went to my director, and I was suspended pending an investigation.
That was all good, I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong, and I trusted my boss.
But the parent just stirred up trouble, spreading rumours to other parents.
Man, it was awful.”
However, the harassment
didn’t stop, and Kevin found himself in the middle of what is best described
(forgive the engendered wording) as a witch-hunt. “I’d be out at the mall, and
a parent would pull their child out of my way and glare at me. In the end, I
just couldn’t go out.” After months of hiding away, Gus finally got some good
news; the investigation carried out by his boss I conjunction with the
Australian Children's Education & Care Quality Authority (ACEQA) found no
impropriety and therefore no case to answer. Kevin was cleared to return to
work. Kevin chose not to and is re-evaluating his options. The parent still
hasn’t apologised. Kevin’ experience is exceptional and most of the male
childcare workers spoken to said that while they find it distressing at
first, they are quick to say, that they get used to it and get on with their
jobs. Children first. Always.
By fearing men in the
childcare industry, there is an insidious and probably unintentional
reinforcing of stereotypical gender roles, i.e. woman care for kids, and men
don’t. To overcome this and provide a safe, equitable and balanced workplace
within the context of the early education sector, where men feel valued, not
vilified, is going to take time.
“Like I said our new director is
a man. I wouldn’t have thought it, but I love working with him. He’s brought a
completely new dynamic to the team and to the centre.” Hayley, H. smiles, “the
children adore him, the parents adore him, and the staff team adore him too.”
The new director is firm but fair, you can see that he is mindful of his
interactions with the children, but still manages to radiate love and trust.
“He talks to every single child at the centre, just a few minutes, but they
love it.”
Given a chance, it is evident
that men can flourish in early education, but the current climate of fear does
make it difficult. Despite the police history check and the working with
children check, predators do swim through the net. Staff teams need to be
alert, but not so blinded by fear that they label every interaction a male
colleague has with the children in their care as being possibly predatory. It
is unfair to single one sex out as being more of a risk to children than
another. A degree of trust needs to exist that the childcare centre and the
governing body of the early education sector, ACECQA has the necessary
safeguards in place to prevent harm to the children in their care. But getting
the balance right isn’t exactly child’s play.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Cameron, C. Moss, P. and Owen C.
(1999) ‘Men in the Nursery: gender and caring work’. Paul Chapman Publishing
Ltd, A SAGE Publications Company, London.
Polanen, M. V., Colonnesi, C.
Tavecchio, L. W. C, Blokhuis, S & Fukkink, R. G. (2017) Men and women in
childcare: a study of caregiver-child interactions, European Early Childhood
Education Research Journal, 25:3, 412-424, DOI: 10.1080/1350293X.2017.1308165
Reynolds, E. (2014) ‘Male
childcare workers under scrutiny from mistrustful parents’. https://www.news.com.au/.../malechildcare.../064f6d38190f13bacc9cdf6f9315967d Accessed
on 17.11.2019
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