2 days ago
As a male kinder teacher I agree more needs to be done to protect children. But the solution is not to vilify people like me
My name is David, and I am a kindergarten teacher. Every time I read another headline about Joshua Dale Brown, my stomach drops. It's not just the horror of the allegations themselves – though that's devastating enough. It's knowing that the parents of the children I teach are reading these same articles. It's imagining the quiet alarm they must feel, the questions they might not voice, the shadows of doubt that may now creep into what used to be trust.
It's deeply personal. I know that as a man working in early childhood education, I already carry a weight of suspicion that my female colleagues never have to shoulder. I see the difference when I'm introduced at enrolment interviews. I am acutely aware of it when I approach a child crying in the yard. I feel the hesitation, however slight, before a parent leaves their child with me for the first time – not always, but often enough. And I get it – I do. We live in a world that has given them reason to be cautious. But it doesn't make it any less painful to live beneath that constant cloud of implication.
What's unbearable is watching that cloud darken when allegations like those Brown is accused of surface. Suddenly, my choice to devote my professional life to the education and wellbeing of young children is subject to renewed scrutiny. Not for the quality of my care, my experience, or my qualifications – but because of my gender.
Then along comes commentary suggesting my mere presence in this field is 'an uncomfortable truth'. That somehow, simply by being male, my motivations must be questioned, that perhaps there is something unnatural or dangerous in my desire to work with children.
But it is worth considering the human impact of such claims. There are thousands of male educators like me, already battling systemic underrepresentation, isolation and the persistent pressure to prove we are safe, kind and worthy of trust.
I have a seven-year-old son. He still believes the world is mostly good. Thankfully, he's not reading the news or some of the commentary around this case yet. But if he did – if he saw articles implying that men like his dad might only work with children because of deviant desires, what would that teach him about masculinity, about care, about empathy?
And what are we teaching society when we double down on suspicion rather than taking a wider, structural view? The issue is not that men work in early childhood education. The issue is that predators can exist in every profession and our systems of oversight, training and reporting need to be stronger – not more discriminatory.
I agree much more needs to be done to protect children. That's the very reason I do this work. But the solution is not to vilify or pathologise men who choose to care for and educate young children. The solution is to overhaul a fractured system – starting with the ridiculous patchwork of state-based regulations governing early childhood education and care in Australia.
We need a unified, national approach that ensures consistency, accountability and support – for children and educators alike. We need robust, mandatory training in child protection for all educators, regardless of gender. We need professional standards that uphold child safety and the dignity of workers. We need appropriate reward and remuneration to encourage the very best to answer the call of early childhood education. And we need to acknowledge that good men in this field are not the problem – they are part of the solution.
The toll of being a male early childhood educator is growing heavier. Not because I'm not proud of what I do – I am. Every day I see the positive impact I have in the lives of the children I teach. I see the bonds we build, the confidence they gain, the joy we share. But I'm tired of having to explain myself. I'm tired of the quiet stigma. And I'm angry that sensational headlines and speculative think-pieces chip away at the fragile progress we've made.
Children deserve the best educators – regardless of gender. And the men who choose to work in this field deserve to do so without being seen as threats. Until we address this cultural bias and build a system that truly values care and education, we will keep failing both the children and the educators who care for them.
David Kelly is a kindergarten teacher in Victoria
