Date: Mon, 8 Jan 2024 19:11:38 +0000 (UTC) From: Harry Broom Subject: Return to Barcelona 21 Gay/ Adult-youth Return to Barcelona 21 Last days in Boston International independent boys' schools can be quite up their arses. Rafa and I have been working at a school outside Boston where the website says that "boys are free to be themselves." It also says that the school continuously cultivates a positive and supportive environment where boys feel safe and comfortable among their peers and teachers. The boys "explore new ideas and passions with a confidence that grows throughout their journey." The website also says that the teachers are at the school because they want to teach boys. "They understand and embrace all that it means to be a boy." I would add that you shouldn't believe everything you read: "At each grade level, our students learn to practice and value honesty, compassion, and respect in partnership with their academics." Rafa and I returned from a Christmas holiday in Paris and brought Rafa's cousin Maria home with us. Maria was from Barcelona and didn't speak much English, but she was a fluent French speaker. Before joining the convent in Paris, she had studied French and Spanish and had a teaching diploma. The stuffy-up-your-nose administrators at the school were not that keen to have a woman in our apartment, and being a persuasive American, I managed to get the go-ahead for Maria to stay for six months. It was a bit of a mind shift for Rafa and I who had grown used to walking around the apartment naked and feeling each other off now and then. We had to behave with a bit more decorum with someone else around. Not that Maria was a prude, she had grown up in a rougher part of Barcelona and could hold her own in any space. I did see her naked a few times when she walked from the bathroom to her room. She was very attractive and probably could have been a model if she had been that way inclined. Maria immediately got a part-time job tutoring French and Spanish at the school, and the boys were all keen to be in her tutor group, and there was no guessing why. Maria got a voluntary job in the city and hoped to learn more English there. I liked Maria, she had a warm and engaging personality, like Rafa, and was very easy to live with. Her years of convent living had taught her how to manage space and community living and none of us tread on each other's toes. I must confess that I did miss seeing Rafa's beautiful naked body around the apartment. Everything was going well, and Maria spoke regularly on the phone to Anna about her exit from the convent and her next steps. She and Rafa would also have long conversations in Catalan about religious life, sex, and Catalan politics. Some of the boys began confiding in Maria and shared their concerns with her. Slowly, she was uncovering a toxic bullying culture in the boarding house. From the face of things everything looked good, but in the in-between spaces, hidden from adult view, these primary school boys were being incredibly cruel to each other. Not being able to keep quiet any longer, Maria shared some of the stories that she had been hearing. She had kept notes and had tried to track dates. It seemed to Rafa and me that the boys were emulating some of the worst traditions of British public schools. In fact, from Maria's stories, the way some boys behaved made them sound like the characters in Tom Brown's Schooldays. Maria's discoveries were explosive, especially in a school recently rocked by scandal. Rafa and I wondered what to do. Finally, we spoke to the school social worker to get her recommendations. She knew if the school tackled things head-on, boys would shut down and remain silent. Helen also knew that remaining silent would be tantamount to condoning what was going on. Helen was worried that any action would result in interest from the press and that the school wouldn't be keen on that. Maria, Rafa, and I had numerous discussions around the dining room table, on walks in the surrounding forest, and in the little coffee shop near the school. Eventually, together with the social worker, we spoke to the new African American headmaster to develop an action plan. His brother had been a police chief and he advised us to tackle it through education and by dealing with the perpetrators one by one. I wasn't keen on this approach but agreed to go along with the plan. It seemed to work, maybe because the boys were still young and not too set in their ways. Maria reported that some of the boys were happier, that there was less bullying and that the beatings had stopped. We were all pleased with the progress made, and that the education programme being implemented was starting to change culture. The quiet rhythm of this Boston private school was disturbed one morning, when the naked body of Blake, an eleven-year-old was found on the lawn alongside the building. It appeared as if he had fallen from a third-floor attic window. The body was temporally covered, and the police were called and the headmaster suspended teaching. Maria was distraught, Blake was in her tutor group and was one of the boys who had been bullied. The headmaster informed Blake's parents immediately and then called the chairman of the board, and he also prepared a press statement. But the chair didn't want him to release any press statement, his concern was the reputation of the school, and wanted him to remain silent. There was a sombre mood at the school. A group of detectives arrived and joined the regular police and forensic experts and began their investigations. They soon confirmed that the child had fallen from the third-floor window and had broken his neck. There was a storeroom on the third floor and the detectives needed to establish why he was there. Later that afternoon they brought colleagues in who had more experience working with children and began to interview them, while the other officers interviewed staff. A team of counsellors also joined them to speak to the boys. That afternoon the headmaster, Helen, Rafa, Maria, and I met the lead investigator and shared the information we had gathered over the previous weeks and explained what interventions had taken place. Helen asked Maria to join her when she met Blake's parents. They were in a terrible state, their beautiful boy was dead. Helen and Maria hugged the parents and held them close. They shared in their sorrow and tried to explain what had happened. There was very little that they could do, other than just being with these broken-hearted people. Blake's mother was Hispanic, and the Spanish language helped her related with Maria. Blake's father was angry and wanted to know how this could have even happened at the school. Dr Crossman, the headmaster, joined the meeting and assured them that they would get to the bottom of things. In the meantime, reporters and a TV crew had gathered at the entrance of the school demanding to see Dr Crossman. He called the chairman of the board and asked him to speak to the press. The Chairman reused and forbade Dr Crossman from saying anything. Crossman knew that this was the wrong move but kept quiet. News had leaked to reporters, and they even knew the deceased child's name. The police had also spoken to the press, and they had some idea of what was going on. The regional news stations were reporting on the incident and the story made front-page news the next morning. Dr Crossman insisted on releasing a press statement and the bigoted chairman eventually agreed. Within days the detectives found out that Blake had been sodomised by one of the twelve-year-old bully boys. Forensic investigations matched semen and the boy confessed that he had forced Blake in the store and that the child was so upset afterward that he climbed out the window and jumped. Dr Crossman, who was a superb educator and caring person, was forced to resign. Pastoral care arrangements were reviewed at the school and Blake's parents embarked on taking legal action against the school. We were all devastated by the tragic happenings at school. The social worker, Maria, Rafa, and I also resigned and decided to move to Guatemala to work at a friend's school, that night I wrote a poem about my feelings: In halls where laughter's hushed to sighs, A child's bright spark fades and dies. Boarded dreams, too soon to part, A tender soul, stilled in heart. Gone too soon from life's embrace, A tragic loss, no time to chase. In whispers, grief now softly weeps, A young life lost, in silence sleeps. We finished the term at the school. The night before we left the school Rafa and I lay naked in our bed pondering the events of the term. Things would never be the same, the image of Blake's naked body on the lawn would haunt me forever. His death was so unnecessary, and if we had taken different actions earlier, he might just still be alive. I spooned against Rafa, and my dick pressed against his bum. My arm was wrapped over his chest, and I moved my hand to take hold of his dick. I wrapped my fingers around his dick and moved his haft up and down. I kissed the back of his neck and felt very close to him. We moved into a 69 position and sucked each other. I played with his foreskin, getting my tongue under it. I loved the taste of my Catalan man. I started to ejaculate in Rafa's mouth and he in mine, and we eventually settled down to sleep. The next morning Maria, Rafa, and I were asked to say a few words at the final assembly. Rafa played a short piece on the piano and I spoke about truth and being truthful to yourself, Maria spoke about goodbyes switching between French and Spanish. We had been popular teachers and the boys stood up and cheered and clapped after we spoke. The three of us had grown to love the boys and we were in tears as we stood holding hands waving to them.