If all the ladies were to speak, we would be opening Pandora’s Box. I’m not sure if we are ready for the outcome. It will shock and shake the nation. It is the rule rather than the exception. Girls endure painstaking experiences in the hands of their teachers in our schools.
When I read the recent reports about teachers at Loreto Girls Limuru being investigated over sexual harassment claims, coming right after the storm at Alliance Girls, I felt a deep sense of déjà vu. To many Kenyans, these stories may sound like shocking new scandals. But for some of us who went through high school years ago, they stir memories of experiences we witnessed firsthand, experiences we did not have the courage or even the language to name at the time.
About two decades ago, when I was in high school, my classmate – let me call her Nancy Nkirote – was drawn into something I now recognise as sexual grooming. At the time, it looked innocent, even enviable. One of our newly posted young teachers seemed to take a special interest in her. He would slip her Sh. 1000 notes, which was much money for a student then. Nancy would sometimes look confused, unsure what to do with this unexpected generosity. To us, her classmates, it felt like she was being favoured, and we half-joked about it, not realising the danger she was in. Today, looking back with the knowledge of adulthood, I know she was being groomed. She was young, naïve, and flattered by the attention of a teacher she trusted, but that attention was not innocent. It was deliberate, manipulative, and predatory.
Sexual grooming is one of the most deceptive forms of abuse because it rarely begins with outright exploitation. Instead, it creeps in slowly, disguised as mentorship, kindness, or special care. It might be money, as in Nancy’s case, or extra tuition, or after-class conversations that stretch into private encounters. The gestures appear harmless at first, and in a culture where we often equate a teacher’s attention with opportunity, few people question them. But grooming is a carefully laid trap: each gift, each compliment, each late-night conversation is a step toward breaking down a learner’s defences and drawing them into silence and dependency.
When I think about Nancy, I can only imagine the confusion she carried. On one hand, here was a teacher in a position of authority showing her kindness and making her feel special. On the other hand, she must have sensed something wasn’t right but lacked the words, the power, or the support to speak out. Back then, our society was even less open about such matters than it is today. Students were taught to respect teachers unquestioningly, and any suggestion of impropriety would have been dismissed as mischief or rumour. Nancy bore it quietly, and the rest of us, perhaps sensing the risks of speaking up, chose silence.
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That silence is precisely what allowed predators to thrive. The cases at Alliance and Loreto are not anomalies—they are symptoms of a culture that has long prioritised reputation over truth. Schools have often been more concerned with protecting their image than protecting their learners. Parents sometimes dismiss signs of grooming as overreaction, while administrators sweep complaints under the carpet to avoid scandal. In that environment, predators operate freely, shielded by authority and emboldened by our unwillingness to confront uncomfortable truths.
Technology has exacerbated the problem. Where teachers once had to wait for physical opportunities to isolate students, they can now reach them directly through text messages, social media, and late-night phone calls. A conversation that begins about homework easily shifts into personal topics, compliments, and eventually inappropriate exchanges. For learners who are still figuring out their identities, this attention feels intoxicating, even empowering, until it becomes manipulative. The secrecy of digital spaces makes grooming harder to detect and easier to escalate.
I often wonder how Nancy’s story might have unfolded if we had known then what we know now. Would she have spoken up? Would the teacher have been disciplined? Or would it have been dismissed as yet another rumour designed to tarnish a teacher’s reputation? These questions haunt me because I know Nancy’s story is not unique. For every scandal that makes the headlines, countless others remain hidden, buried under fear, shame, and denial.
The damage caused by grooming cannot be overstated. It robs learners of innocence, shatters their trust in authority, and sometimes derails their education entirely. Even when abuse does not progress into physical exploitation, the psychological scars run deep. Victims often carry guilt, wondering if they somehow invited the attention, when in reality they were manipulated by adults who should have been protecting them.
That is why the Pandora’s Box we have opened as a society must not be closed again. The revelations at Alliance and Loreto should prompt us to ask tough questions about how schools handle allegations, how teachers are trained to maintain professional boundaries, and how students are encouraged to speak up. It is no longer enough to whisper concerns in corridors or share memories years later. We must build systems that recognise grooming for what it is and stop it before it escalates into abuse.
For me, Nancy’s story is a reminder that silence is complicity. Back then, I said nothing. Today, I can at least add my voice to the call for vigilance. Schools must create safe reporting channels. Parents must pay attention when their children receive unexplained gifts or unusual communication from teachers. And teachers themselves must recommit to the professionalism that their noble calling demands.
Two decades ago, my classmate was trapped in a situation she could not name. Today, we have the words – sexual grooming – and the awareness to act. If reopening these wounds and revisiting these scandals is what it takes to protect our learners finally, then so be it. It is painful, yes, but necessary. Because only by confronting this darkness can we safeguard the light of our children’s future.
By Ashford Kimani
Ashford teaches English and Literature in Gatundu North Sub-County and serves as Dean of Studies.
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