How to talk to your kid about adult boundary violations in schools: Lessons from the Keith Ervin incident
I’m leaning against my dented 2016 minivan outside the high school, crumbs of cheddar Goldfish stuck to the knee of my jeans, waiting for my 15-year-old to get done with after-school play practice, when another mom from our neighborhood pulls up. She’s already scrolling the local news, and she turns her screen toward me before I even say hello. That’s our school board guy, right? Keith Ervin? Yeah. I look at the story: a parent took a video after last week’s boys basketball game, shows Ervin pulling a 16-year-old female student in for a tight hug, then when she steps back to laugh and adjust her backpack, he says loud enough for people nearby to hear, “Man, you look hot today.”
The other mom’s kid is a sophomore at the same high school, so she’s heard the chatter for weeks. People say he’s always hanging around the cheerleaders and dance team, stops to comment on girls’ outfits at every home game. By the time my daughter Morgan swings open the minivan door and drops her script bag at my feet, she’s already heard the story too. Yeah, everyone’s talking about it, she says, climbing in and turning up the heater. My friend Mia said he commented on her art win last year and hugged her way too long after the ceremony. She didn’t tell anyone because he’s like, a big deal around here. Why would she get him in trouble for nothing?
We pull out of the parking lot, and I ask her what she would do if that happened to her. She shrugs, picks at a loose thread on her sweater. I’d probably just laugh and leave, right? It’s not like I’m gonna yell at a school board member at a basketball game. That would be awkward, and everyone would call me dramatic. That hits me straight on, because I had the exact same reaction when I was her age. When I was 16, I was at a 4-H county fair awards event, and the district assemblyman handing out ribbons made a comment about how my new show jacket fit my chest really well. I smiled, thanked him for my blue ribbon, and walked away, never telling my mom or anyone else. I was taught to be polite to adults, especially important adults, and that making a fuss over a “little comment” was rude.
That night, we order pepperoni pizza for dinner, and after we clear the plates, we’re sitting on the couch eating mint chocolate chip ice cream, and I tell Morgan that story. She blinks, says that’s weird, why didn’t you say anything? I say that’s exactly the point. Back then, no one told me it was okay to say something, or even just to leave without being polite. This Ervin thing isn’t just one bad guy, it’s a reminder that we don’t talk enough about this with our kids. Most of us grow up thinking that only strangers cross lines, but most of the time, it’s people everyone knows and trusts. The school board member who comes to every game. The coach who’s been around for 20 years. The volunteer who chaperones every dance.
I didn’t give her a big, awkward speech. I just said, let’s do a quick practice. What if I’m Mr. Ervin, and I come in for a hug you don’t want, and I make a comment about your new hoodie. I leaned in like I was going to wrap her up, and she froze, then laughed and pushed me away. I said, no, what do you actually say when it’s not your mom messing with you? You don’t have to make a scene, you don’t have to call him out right there. You just need a go-to line you can say any time, no matter who the adult is, to get out of there without over-explaining or apologizing for being uncomfortable. We came up with two that are easy to remember: “Sorry, I need to go find my coach” and “My mom’s waiting for me, I gotta go.” No extra words, no need to be nice. We practiced it three times, until she could say it without laughing or hesitating.
I also realized that as parents, we can do more than just talk to our own kids. I went to our PTA meeting the next week, and brought up the fact that our district only enforces boundary policies for paid teaching staff, not for school board members, volunteer coaches, or community guests who are on campus interacting with kids every week. I asked that we add three simple, clear rules to the district visitor policy: first, any non-staff adult can’t comment on a student’s body or appearance outside of generic, neutral compliments like “great game today.” Second, any physical contact has to be initiated by the student, not the adult – no pulling kids in for hugs if they’re stepping back. Third, no one-on-one meetings between a non-staff adult and a single student behind closed doors. A lot of other parents nodded along, and we’re putting it up for a vote next month.
Right now, no one in town can agree what should happen to Ervin. A lot of people say he didn’t do anything wrong, that it was just a dumb joke, that people are overreacting. Others say he should resign immediately. No one knows how it’s going to turn out, and that’s okay. The point for me isn’t just what happens to Keith Ervin. It’s that for too long, we’ve left it up to kids to navigate these messy, uncomfortable situations on their own, because we don’t want to face the fact that the people we trust can make kids uncomfortable too.
Last weekend, Morgan texted me from the school’s winter dance. She was only 20 minutes in, and she texted: Vice principal just said my sparkly dress looks “really good on me.” I told him I needed to go find my friend and came to hang with the other girls by the snack table. I texted back, that’s exactly what you should do. Good job. That’s a small win. We still don’t know if the PTA will pass the new boundary rules. Some parents will probably say we’re overreacting, that we’re making things weird between adults and kids. But I’d rather have a little awkwardness at a PTA meeting than have another kid leave a school event feeling weird and uncomfortable and like they can’t say anything. Things change slow, and this is just one step.
Please indicate: Thinking In Educating » How to talk to your kid about adult boundary violations in schools: Lessons from the Keith Ervin incident