I started visiting schools two decades ago. It was after the publication of my novel, Speak , which tells the story of a teenage girl struggling through the emotional aftermath of being raped. It is commonly read in high school and college literature classes, and has proven to be a useful springboard to conversations about rape mythology, sexual violence and consent.
Jump to navigation. Do you wonder if you should be concerned about a child's behavior? Are you worried that a child is being abused? Are you concerned about a child or teen's behavior towards another child or teen? Identify the warning signs of sexual abuse. Find out about healthy sexual development. Learn what can be done when a child abuses another child. Get help to talk to other parents about their child's behavior. Behavior in children and adolescents.
Connect With Us
Questions in the world of children and inappropriate touching are never strait forward and neither is the answer. Just because a child is touched by another it does not mean that child is a paedophile especially when you are talking about a 13 year old and a 6 year old. I have dealt with similar situations in my career and every case should be dealt with on merit. Firstly you have to know how to speak to and correctly interview a child of 6 years old. Speaking to a child without leading them is very Speaking to a child without leading them is very difficult and the questions you ask have to be open ended.
The reason is because it happened to me. One evening, when I was six, he offered to babysit me and my older sister at his house. He could do these pitch-perfect character voices, and in that way, he was charismatic and appealing to children. The werewolf would howl, he said, his thirst for the blood of children relentless, until one night he came charging through a window of a house trying to catch the little girl inside. The broken glass pierced his throat, and then he was dead, his head hanging over the sill, blood dripping down the wall to the floor. And then my sister went to bed, and I sat in his small, dimly lit kitchen, on his lap, as he nuzzled my hair and then my ear and neck, and squeezed me hard and soft at the same time. I remember staring fixedly at the window in his kitchen, into the dark snowy night, through a pane of cold glass, the moon casting shadows, a dark tree, listening for the howl of the werewolf, trying not to pay attention to what was actually happening.