Stop the abuse and manipulation @ Dawson College.

TW: abuse & harassment

A fair warning to all abusers; do not underestimate the strength of a woman. It may take time, age and experience to understand our story but we will eventually recognize the power in our voices and we will come after you to protect our brothers and sisters.

I was groomed and manipulated by my theatre teacher at Dawson College throughout and after my three years of study. I have only started to openly talk about my experience with this man within the last year or so. His attack was slow and subtle. He took his time in building my trust and formed an emotional connection with me in order to manipulate and emotionally abuse me. He made me believe that he was truly helping me in my journey of finding my identity. He made me believe that he was my best friend in this scary world. No kid should believe that a 50-something year old man is their best friend. And I say kid because that’s what I was. I knew nothing about the world. Up to that point, I had been living a safe and sheltered life in the suburbs of Montreal with my parents. I was excited to be an adult. To have freedom. To meet new people. To be one step closer to womanhood. He sensed that and took complete advantage of my curiosity.

In 2017, a brave student came forward with her difficult story of emotional abuse concerning this teacher. This encouraged other strong women and men to come forward with their own experiences of verbal and psychological manipulation concerning this man. Dawson College removed him from the school for a short amount of time while they launched into an investigation. Before we knew it, they reinstated him and allowed him to go back to teaching and directing. I would like to emphasize that 20+ women came forward with their difficult stories of abuse and the college has done nothing about it. The institution is very well aware of his manipulative ways yet they somehow allow this man to continue teaching late teens and young adults. Many of those who came forward expressed their stories and concerns on how this man abuses his power by toying with their confidence and emotions. He is the type of teacher that breaks you down in order to build you back up. You can’t get too comfortable around him because he will sense that and remind you of your flaws. Not only did I experience that firsthand, but what I am about to share with you goes beyond that form of abuse. The goal is to share my experience and hope that my words bring us one step closer to change. I’ve been silent for so long because I simply wanted to forget how weak and naive I was at that time in my life. As much as I would love to continue and act like nothing happened, silence brings you nowhere. I am very well aware of his predatory ways and I simply don’t want it to happen to any other student.

When I first heard of him, he was talked about as the mean teacher. If you get his approval, then you’re good. So, my plan was to do my work and stay quiet. Seventeen year old me was far from confident. Seventeen year old me didn’t know how to speak for herself. Seventeen year old me didn’t think she was interesting enough to hold a conversation with anyone, let alone the intimidating teacher. But my shyness and lack of voice was attractive to him in some way. In my second semester, he would encourage me to go to his office for some innocent chats. He would catch me in the hallway and tell me my door is always open. I really appreciated it at the time. As a young woman, I was going through so many changes. Emotional changes. Mental changes. Physical changes. I was feeling many things and I didn’t understand why. The only way I would talk about my emotions was if someone forced them out of me. I was intrigued by the fact that this hard-ass of a teacher wanted to spend his precious time with me. I didn’t understand the appeal in getting to know me but it made me feel special. As interested I was in the offer, it took me a while to open up. What exactly does he want from me? He could sense my diffidence, which only made him try harder. He would continue to encourage me to visit his office until he won. And yes, he eventually won.

We began talking about personal stuff. Family stuff. Relationship stuff. Stuff about the college. Other teachers. Different acting methods. Books. Music. Life. It was nice. He began sending me chain mail that either made me smile, laugh or think. I didn’t once think it was weird. I was flattered! Again, I didn’t understand why he chose me but I liked it. He then began connecting me to songs, poems or images. He would send me anything that reminded him of me. He would write to me about stuff like the dangers of keeping my phone on my bed while it was charging and to never leave it plugged in while I was asleep. All very innocent. All very thoughtful.

Our theatre program offered Faculty Viewings, where current students can watch the latest show the department has been working on. At the end of my first year, the third year students were working on The Crucible by Arthur Miller which was directed by him.

When I got home, I was faced with an angry email filled with disappointment. He told me that he expected me to pay him a visit after the viewing. That he waited for me. That I could have not known all this and that I am entirely free to do whatever I care to do with my spare time.

April 10th, 2010

“However, I have had to re-assess our relationship outside of class. The talks we have had, I hope were productive for you, although I never quite understood why, having so many faculty to choose from to create a bond with, you decided to choose me. I want to be the best teacher I can be, so naturally my ego wants to believe that it’s because I enspire you. So, I must say that it’s a very devastating feeling to entertain the thought that I am only of value, when there is no one else around to amuse you.”

He told me that my work has been improving greatly and that he believes I have a great talent for acting.

“There is a sensitivity and generousity that is crucial to the art and you possess those in abundance. Those I speak to adore you and hold you in high regard. Tou now have wings……it’s time to fly.

In future, I’m available for anything related specifically to the class. Do not come to my office for any other reason.”

I was very confused and sad that I hurt him because at the time, I didn’t know that my opinion regarding his work meant anything to him. I apologized and continued with the program. I was extremely anxious going into school the next few days because I didn’t want to bump into him in the hallway. I also felt mad because here was this man encouraging me to open up about my struggles, only to eventually push me away.

One day, I had finally crossed paths with him in the hallway and he asked me to meet with him in his office. Oh gosh. He told me how disgusted he was by his reaction. How he hoped that I would forgive him. That he didn’t understand what got over him and that in reality, I should be able to do whatever I want. Well, I forgave him because, just to remind you, he was my teacher. I knew I had to spend the next two years under his wing and I simply didn’t want to mess it up. I was taken aback by his behaviour considering how sweet, open and honest he had been the weeks leading up to that event. The innocent email exchanges resumed. Poems. Short stories. Images. He would let me know that people have been throwing raw eggs at car windshields to impair the driver’s vision and that I should warn my mother about it so she can stay alert and safe. All very innocent. All very thoughtful. Yet, there was a different feeling in the air. I can tell that he wanted to stay in contact with me, yet he wasn’t as up-beat as he used to be.

We had our end of year teacher-student meetings in May 2010. Once I walked into the classroom he was holding them in, I could sense that something was off. He was rude. Barely made any eye contact. He hugged every single other student at the end of their meetings but didn’t even get off of his chair during mine. He looked disgusted by me. As though I had killed one of his family members. As I left the room, crying, I wished that I wouldn’t have to be directed or taught by him in my next two years. I was upset that I let him open up to me. I was upset that I had begun to open up to him. And because of that experience, I told myself I would never open myself up to anyone ever again.

I got home to an email.

May 19th, 2010

“I wanted to wait until your exams and interviews were over before making contact. The past few months must have been confusing and stressful for you, so some explaining is needed.”

“While working on The Crucible, I became intrigued by the Proctor / Abigail, older male, younger female relationship and when I met you after the Christmas break doing “usher” duties, the idea re-surfaced in my mind, and there the germ was planted to use that idea as the motivating force for my commitment the play. Because I knew that you had no feelings of that nature towards me, I felt that there would be no damage done once the show had ended.”

This was his plan. By getting close to me, not only did he succeed in his artistic goal but he also succeeded in breaking me apart. He came into my life with purpose and had no consideration of the consequences he would be faced with once his project was done with. In The Crucible, John Proctor is 30 years old and Abigail is 17. They have an affair.

“I decided for myself that, since expressing myself emotionally was so difficult, I was going to take an emotional journey that was intense enough to make me as vulnerable as I was asking my actors to be. You seemed the prime candidate to express that with. Giving you a “heads up” would only have defeated the purpose of doing it. I felt totally comfortable with you and above all, I felt SAFE. I began connecting you to everything, from love songs to cat food commercials. Everything I told you about my personal life was true, but the other stuff, I had to fabricate.”

“There were times when I struggled with guilt; a feeling that, in my quest for some fleeting glimpse of artistic accomplishment, I was risking our friendship. Then I started evaluating our friendship and eventually decided that I wasn’t going to worry, because I honestly didn’t see in what way you contributed to it.”

Throughout the e-mail, he is gaslighting me, making me feel like I was responsible for the outcome of the situation. It was confusing because he wrote things that made me feel good and unworthy all at once. He showered me with compliments but then reminded me what I was doing wrong in my personal life and in the program. He gave me tips on how to be a more vocal person. He spoke about how important it is to learn how to articulate my feelings, not only for myself but for the industry I chose to be in.

“I don’t know if I fully understood the consequence of what I was doing, but at some point, I expected you to say something. I assure you, had the roles been reversed and you said anything to me that made me uncomfortable, I would have avoided you like the plague (I’d skip classes to avoid you), but at some point I would have confronted you on it. But you sat there all this time and through all this discomfort and said absolutely nothing. And it must have been discomforting because it either made you even more petrified of men, turned you lesbian or forced you out of the closet. And I suspect that what happened between us, did not stay between us. I totally understand; it’s only human. It is what it is. The reality is that I deserve it and will have to work through the awkwardness and (possible) embarrassment for two more years after which I’ll simply face new challenges.”

But, it did stay between us. It stayed between us from 2009–2018. I took pride in keeping our conversations secret. I remember thinking that part of the reason our friendship was so special was because no one else knew about it. We shared things with each other that were extremely personal. We prioritized spending time together. We would spend hours in his office when school was finished to catch up and learn more about one another. He made me feel comfortable and he encouraged me to speak truthfully, to find my voice. He made me believe that he was helping me in learning how to articulate my feelings. At the time, I thought I was keeping our friendship secret out of respect, when in reality, this was another way for him to isolate me from my peers.

“I felt a bit sad after our meeting today. You were the only student I didn’t hug before they left. Perhaps I felt that I no longer deserved your friendship after what happened, but this is the first time since the beginning of the year where it was difficult hugging you although I really wanted to. Also, I was there when you left Bert’s office; you weren’t crying then and you must have seen other faculty members before me and you certainly weren’t crying when you stepped into my room. Yet before you left, your heart was feeling more than you were able to express. The bottom line is that I am hurting you somehow. I need to step out of your life so that you can live your life.”

“17 minutes later

Your crying today has not left my mind. It’s either that you distrust or dislike me more than I realize or you have feelings for me that scare you. Initially, I did not expect or want a response to this message, but I have just created another e-mail address exclusively for you. If you feel a need to respond, do so under that e-mail, it will assure privacy. However, you can do so under one condition; you must be brutally honest. Don’t think of us as teacher and student, but as two simple people with holes in their hearts. Pour your heart out, I can take it. Take the journey from the beginning of the school year until now. This could be the most important moment in your life moving forward. Help me to understand you better.”

I emailed him back. And we continued to email each other through that private address for the next seven years. He directed me in two shows and was my acting teacher in two classes during those next two years. I was happy about it. After all we had been through, I was relieved that I still held a place in his heart.

Within that year, we had interesting chats about acting, writing, television shows, movies and songs. We also had a series of chats regarding his past sexual experiences, ways on how I should accustom my body to masturbating, my physical appearance and many more improper conversations that no teacher should have with an 18 year old student. I was told about the time he was a kid and had his first sexual experience on a boat with an older woman. I was told about the time he had sex with a woman at the end of her bachelorette party so that she can have one last night of freedom. I was told that what I was wearing while doing usher duties highlighted my body beautifully. I was told that my body is a masterpiece. That my butt reminds him of a black woman’s ass. I was told that when I go home tonight, I should slightly open up the faucet in the bathtub and let it drip on my clitoris. That I should try experimenting by touching myself with an object such as a cucumber. I was told many things. I went through these bits of discomfort to have moments of love and honesty with my “mentor”.

And although I have none of the above written on email, I can’t help but emphasize how clearly I remember those conversations. As women, we are taught to ignore inappropriate behaviour. We are taught that experiencing unwanted sexual attention is normal, and sometimes we are even told that we should feel flattered. We can ignore, we can be told to get used to it but we will never forget. My response to the interactions mentioned above was always silence accompanied with a head nod. As women, we are taught to hide our discomfort in order to make those who make us uncomfortable feel comfortable. We remember. We remember. We remember all that is said to us. I don’t need an email thread to remember unwanted sexual language.

He would catch me in the hallway and say a quick hello. He would hold my hand in front of other students. He would peek through class windows to see if I was in them. When I entered his office, his hugs would last up to a minute. As we would chat with one another, he would place his hands on my knees to show how attentive he was being. If another student would knock on his door for class related questions during one of our catch-ups, he would sigh as though he was annoyed that someone was interrupting us.

We grew extremely close in my second and third year. I felt as though I had two different relationships with him; one being a teacher-student relationship and another where we were each other’s best friend. He would ask me to send him photos of me which then prompted us in sharing pictures of family gatherings, birthdays and other personal events.

December 29th, 2010

I’m not on Facebook, but I checked your page on [redacted] computer and saw a lovely photo of you and two of your friends in front of the Christmas tree. I love your spirit in the shot, but it was too small to fully appreciate it. Please send it, if you can.

At the time, I thought what we had was truly special. I thought he was my best friend. In my mind he was supportive, attentive, kind and loving. I mistook his manipulation for love. He knew everything about me, my friends, my family, my vulnerabilities, etc. He was always just as honest with me as I was with him, which influenced me in believing this was normal.

Here are some more excerpts from emails I received during and after my studies.

May 19th, 2010

“Mara, for your own good, you need to begin learning to articulate your feelings before you leave the program. Talent alone will only get you so far, your ability to communicate is vital in our profession. In almost a flash, you’ll be graduating from the protection of this institution and faculty will be focused on motivating other students, so it’s not uncommon that in a year or so after graduation, we may not even remember your name.”

“So, for the record: I do love you (if you feel a sudden urge to puke, now would be a good time), and I’m proud of it; it’s just a different kind of love. If I truly felt that other way about you, I would never have had the courage to tell you. And even if I did, it couldn’t have happened with a nicer person. There were times when I struggled with guilt; a feeling that, in my quest for some fleeting glimpse of artistic accomplishment, I was risking our friendship. Then I started evaluating our friendship and eventually decided that I wasn’t going to worry, because I honestly didn’t see in what way you contributed to it.”

May 23rd, 2011

“Our love is unique, special and indescribable even to us. I’m extremely proud of your parents for raising such an incredibly beautiful person. I’m also extremely proud of the impact you’ve had on my life and I know that, to some degree, I’ve impacted yours. Even if you and I never meet again after next year we’ll carry each other in our hearts with a love that’s eternal. I’m doing this now because I know I won’t have the strength to do it at next year’s Roast.”

May 24th, 2011

“Feel free to write to me at anytime!! It could be 24/7. or 24/8. 24/9 is also an option and you can write sixteen times a day if you like; I’ll read your e-mails like a novel. Seriously though, don’t be afraid to vent, if you need to. Sometimes “fuck” can be a very delicious word when you’re venting, so don’t be shy. Which reminds me, I wanted to find a time at the end of the semester to take you home and allow you to drive to give you a little practice and mark another memorable time together. I guess, it just wasn’t meant to be.”

June 13th, 2011

“Thanks for the information about the show. When I saw you last in red, I almost asked if you lost weight; you looked so beautiful. I said nothing at the time because you’d look beautiful to me even if you were 400 lbs.”

June 22, 2011

“Just thinking of you today.”

July 12th, 2011

“What I do know is that when you learn to love and be at peace with yourself, the one who is right for you will see that in you. He will feel honored to be your partner and will spend his time giving 100% to the relationship and not spend his time taking the 100% out of you. In your e-mail you said “I don’t think a guy should have to plan his life around mine.” My question is WHY THE HELL NOT!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oprah once said (I don’t know if I’ve shared this with you before): “There is a difference between believing that you deserve to be happy and knowing that you are worthy of happiness.” Think about that for a moment. When it’s right, the right person will plan his life around you and you’ll plan your life around him. You’ll both learn to prioritize and focus your energies on what’s important to you both. You are a very lucky person because if I had met you 159 years ago, I would already be frequenting Laval, “sweet-talking” your parents, buying them gifts, cooking them food and by 2015 we would have one or two mixed kids running around the house.”

July 14th, 2011

“Had a wonderful (but short) dream about you last night. We were in a large gymnasium with other people and I was a gym teacher or something (that had to be a dream.) You and I were sitting next to each other watching a film on a very large screen (I don’t know what was showing.) Anyway, at one point I noticed through the corner of my eye that you were crying, so I cupped my arm in yours and we had a nice cry together.”

May 21st, 2012

“For months now I’ve been trying to find something to leave with you to remind you of me. I kept thinking of material things, but this song kept re-surfacing. Some of the lyrics are “overkill” (the only lyrics that truly fit are the ones you write yourself), so you need to sift-out what’s inappropriate. However, the tone of it closely reflects my mood at the moment. I’ve never known how you’ve felt about me — you’re not good at expressing inner feelings, but you are, who you are and I must accept and respect it. Anyway, I’m going out on a limb and determine that, at least you think highly. Whatever it is, my hope is that you’ll remember me FOREVER.”

January 26th, 2012

“The feeling is difficult to explain to others. With us, it’s always the little things, the simple things — a look, a hug, a touch,,,, I think we kinda’ like each other. I’m still feeling humbled by your dad’s comments. Have a great show tonight.”

September 13th, 2012

“I get frustrated sometimes because I want to pull you away from everybody and have you to myself, even for 5 minutes, but I always have to pretend that I love everybody equally. The last time I saw you, you were with [redacted] and I was dying to tell you about a fantastic wedding we went to in Toronto.”

October 14th, 2012

“I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. Not only that, but I miss you. And in addition to that, I miss you. Did I already tell you that I miss you; well if I didn’t, I’m telling you now that I MISS YOU!!!!!! See you on Tuesday”

October 21st, 2012

“I had a heart-to-heart talk with the heart of that [redacted] guy who was mad at me because I did not ask you what your answer to [redacted] was when he said that sometimes you looked at that [redacted] guy like you had a crush on him. So, as his lawyer, he’s forced me to ask the question. Miss. Mara Lazaris, do you, or have you ever, ever, ever, even in the slightest of possibilities, had even an incy wincy, teeny weeny crust thaton that [redacted] guy. I’m just doing my job as a lawyer, you understand.”

Once 2015 hit, whatever we had turned into an innocent friendship. We would check in on one another and only chat once every few months. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. In my mind, we had gotten what we needed from each other and simply started growing apart. In reality, he most likely found another young girl and started his manipulative process all over again. I have so many more emails from him. Some are sweet. Some are caring. I will not lie; sometimes he gave very helpful advice and extremely kind words. To this day, I am still not sure if he was genuine with his love. Reading back on every single email exchange, it very much sounded like he was having a one-sided emotional affair with me. That realization made me so sad and concerned for the girl I once was. My healing process was long and confusing because I deeply cared for this man. What did he want from me? I will continue to be confused and hurt.

I do not trust him. I fear for all students, specifically young, vulnerable women who will be taught and directed by him. If I was a parent, I would be absolutely appalled to think that my daughter had a relationship like that with her teacher. I would be angry at the predator but even more disgusted by the college for not doing anything on the matter. By reinstating him, they are normalizing this cruel behaviour and basically saying it is okay for similar events to happen to both current and future students.

Dawson College, I ask you; where is your urgency on the matter? Aren’t you scared for your children? Aren’t you scared for the kids you claim to protect? It is beyond irresponsible of you as an institution to make such a senseless decision in accepting this abuse of power.