ARTICLE IN PRESS

Teaching and Teacher Education 21 (2005) 227–240

www.elsevier.com/locate/tate

Let’s hear it from the males: Issues facing male

primary school teachers
P. Cushman
Christchurch College of Education, Dovedale Avenue, P.O. Box 31-065, Christchurch, New Zealand

Abstract

As the number of male teachers in primary schools continues to decrease, the resultant gender imbalance has become
the focus of increased discussion and debate. While the reasons for the decline in the number of males enrolling in
teacher education are complex and multi-faceted, four factors which have been identified as contributing to the decline
are experiences and attitudes related to status, salary, working in a predominantly female environment, and physical
contact with children. In an attempt to explore the extent to which they were concerned and challenged by these factors,
focus group interviews were conducted with practising male primary school teachers. The study confirms that each of
the four issues has the potential to influence the decision to take up a career in teaching and to impact on job
satisfaction and performance.
r 2005 Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved.

Keywords: Male role models; Male teachers in the primary school; Gender balance in primary schools

1. Introduction theoretical conjecture by academics rather than

The debate surrounding the lack of male
teachers in primary schools continues to simmer,
boiling over on to the media hotplate whenever
one of the assumed contributing factors causes
sufficient concern in educational or political
arenas. Despite the extended debate, little has
been resolved, possibly in part because the debate
has, until recently, tended to focus more on
Tel.: +54 3 348 4311; fax: +64 345 8131.
E-mail address: penni.cushman@cce.ac.nz.
on the real experiences of the practitioners
themselves. Furthermore, the failure of recruit-
ment strategies designed to attract more males to
teaching (Balchin, 2002; Thornton & Bricheno,
2000) suggests that the issue is far more complex
than it might initially appear.
It was this consideration that led me to carry
out, over recent years, comprehensive surveys of,
firstly, just over 1000 male Year 13 students
(Cushman, 2000a), and, secondly, 253 practising
male primary school teachers (Cushman, 1999).
My aim was to determine whether the attitudes

0742-051X/$ - see front matter r 2005 Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved.
doi:10.1016/j.tate.2005.01.012
 ARTICLE IN PRESS
228 P. Cushman / Teaching and Teacher Education 21 (2005) 227–240
and experiences of potential male applicants and
practising male teachers regarding primary school
teaching as a career matched those commonly
espoused through academic discourse and re-
ported in the media. The survey of Year 13 male
students found that young males have major
concerns regarding primary school teaching as a
career because of the status of teaching, the level of
salary and the issue of physical contact with
children. With its 93% response rate, the survey
of practising male teachers signalled an area of
high interest. Participants were asked to rate their
concerns regarding salary, status and physical
contact with children either as no concern,
slight concern, moderate concern or extreme
concern. Room was provided for the teachers to
add comments, which many chose to do. The
practising male teachers confirmed the students’
misgivings, reporting that the same three issues
plus that of working in a predominantly female
environment caused ongoing barriers to job
satisfaction and performance for males, and
ultimately detracted from the appeal of teaching
as a career.
As a result of the interest demonstrated in the
two surveys by both the participants and the
teaching community, I considered that focus
group discussions involving practising male tea-
chers would provide an opportunity for further
exploration of the issues. The surfacing of
forgotten experiences, exemplified through state-
ments such as ‘‘that reminds mey’’ and the
participants’ mutual agreement about and under-
standing of these experiences, demonstrated the
value of this more interactive forum in eliciting
substantive material. This article reports not only
on the commentary on these issues by those
participating in the focus groups but also considers
how these issues might be resolved.
2. Method
Seventeen practising primary school male tea-
chers volunteered to participate in the focus group
discussions. The focus group facilitator knew all
these males from professional interactions with the
males’ schools. Each was personally approached,
provided with a brief overview of the study, and
asked to confirm their willingness to participate.
Between them, the men represented a wide range
of ages, years of teaching experience, management
responsibilities within the school, age groups of
children taught and a mix of rural and urban
schools and decile levels. The participants varied in
age from 26 to 53 years of age, with an average age
of 38.8 years. Teaching experience ranged from 1
year to 31 years, with an average of 12 years.
While three of the participants were school
principals, each was a ‘‘teaching principal’’ with
responsibility for his own class as well as for
school-wide administration. While there was re-
presentation from all decile levels, the study was
over-represented with higher decile schools. How-
ever, as no patterns emerged linking particular
responses with particular decile levels, it appears
that the decile levels had little bearing on the
nature of the participants’ responses.
Although it could be argued that a sample of 17
is too small to comprise a representative sample,
the responses between the focus groups were so
consistent in content and so supportive of my
earlier research (Cushman, 2000a), that I decided
not to increase the sample size. Furthermore, I
suspect that many of the experiences exemplified
by the responses are common in the classrooms,
staffrooms, playgrounds and school communities
of many New Zealand primary schools.
The focus groups, conducted in an informal
atmosphere, involved five one-and-a-half hour
semi-structured discussions between three or four
of the participating teachers and the facilitator
(who was the same person across all groups).
Thus, each participant took part in one focus
group. The facilitator guided each discussion
according to a standardised open-ended ques-
tion format. This approach let all participants
respond to the same questions while still allow-
ing them to modify responses and to discuss
between themselves areas of particular interest.
The discussions were audio- and video-taped
and subsequently transcribed. In addition to
asking the questions, the facilitator prompted
participants for further clarification of particular
responses, but did not otherwise participate in the
discussions.
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P. Cushman / Teaching and Teacher Education 21 (2005) 227–240
The interview questions included, but were not
always limited to, the following:
1. Which aspects of the profession initially at-
tracted you to primary school teaching as a
career?
2. What sort of reaction did you get when you told
family and friends that you had decided to
become a primary school teacher?
3. Did you come straight from school or try other
career options first?
4. Do you think the status of teaching is an issue
for male teachers?
5. Do you think salary is a concern?
6. If you are on a school staff where males are a
minority, does that present you with any
particular challenges?
7. To what extent does the issue of physical
contact with children concern you?
The questions were designed to determine if the
experiences of the participating males supported
the findings of my previous work. Initial analysis
determined the extent to which this was so.
Responses were grouped according to their simila-
rities so that common themes could be identified.
Where participants made specific references during
the interview to particular factors contributing to a
theme, these were noted so as to establish the
extent to which the participants had collectively
raised these factors.
The following presentation of findings and
discussion of them is limited to the issues-based
questions 4–7. It is important to note that this
article is part of a larger study, and that other
papers (Cushman, in preparation) address ques-
tions 1–3. The findings below are organised under
headings that closely reflect questions 1–4: experi-
ences and attitudes related to status; salary;
working in a predominantly female environment;
and physical contact with children. Verbatim
comments from participants are included through-
out for illustrative purposes.
While the use of focus group interviews allowed
participants to talk about their experiences, elabo-
rate on areas of importance and provide more
insightful responses than other research methods,
it has not been possible to estimate the extent
229
to which questioning techniques and group dy-
namics may have added bias to those comments
or to what extent the analysis of questionnaire
data was misinterpreted. These factors are ac-
knowledged as limitations of the research metho-
dology.
3. Findings and discussion
3.1. Status
The status of primary school teachers appears to
be closely aligned to the perceived intellectual
requirements necessary for a particular teacher’s
role, the perceived job requirements, the years of
acquired teaching experience and the particular
group making the judgement. Historical evidence
shows that these factors, together with the gender
and social class of the individual teacher, have
influenced the status of teaching since early last
century (Skelton, 2001). For example, an English
government report from 1925 on the training of
primary school teachers described teaching as a
‘‘field of effort for the girl of average intellectual
capacity and normal maternal instincts’’ but
cautioned that ‘‘for a man to spend his life
teaching children of school age is to waste it in
doing easy and not very valuable work he would
not do if he was fit to do anything else’’ (cited in
Skelton, 2001, p. 122). The low status of primary
school teachers in comparison to other occupa-
tions in western countries has been repeatedly
alluded to in the literature (e.g., Ashley, 2001;
King, 1998; Thornton & Bricheno, 2000; Waller,
1932). It also appears that the higher up the school
one teaches, the greater the status (see, for
example, Carrington, 2002). As several partici-
pants commented,
The caretaker came in and he said, ‘‘Gee,
you’ve done welly.’’ I said, ‘‘What do you
mean?’’ He said, ‘‘Well you’ve gone from
teaching the juniors and now you’re going to
be sole charge teaching some of the Form 1 and
2 kids,’’ and he thought that was such a huge
status jump. I think that men in the junior
school have less status than men in the senior
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230 P. Cushman / Teaching and Teacher Education 21 (2005) 227–240
school, and I think that’s why you get more
men going into intermediates.
I don’t actually think any primary teacher, male
or female, has the status they deserve and the
respect from the community. I go along with
what [another participant] says about promo-
tion up the school. If you teach in Years 3 and 4
and the following year in Years 5 and 6, then
you’ve gone up in the world. The parents think
the higher up the school you teach, the better
you are as a teacher, which I think is totally
wrong.
All participants over 39 years of age agreed that
the past 20 years had seen a decline in the status of
teachers. Their comments indicated that while they
considered children and parents had held teachers
in high esteem at the time they (the participants)
had attended primary school as students, they now
felt parents saw teachers as ‘‘equal’’ and that this
had contributed to a corresponding lack of respect
from their children. Some considered that, in New
Zealand, the governance of schools by Boards of
Trustees, which include elected parent representa-
tives, had been particularly significant in eroding
the respect parents once gave teachers.
When I was a student, I think teaching was a
profession that was looked up to. Maybe the
parents respected the teachers back then and
the kids pretty much did the same. Well, hell,
it’s changed now! You are equal with the
parents, if you’re lucky.
I feel the government has allowed so much
interference from parents that teachers have lost
their status. You’ve got the Board of Trustees
now, and they’re parents, and they have more
status than the teachers. To me it doesn’t seem
right.
The same participants also thought parents had
transferred to these boards the mana (Maori word
commonly used in New Zealand to denote
prestige) previously held by teachers. During the
discussions, all participants observed that parents’
perceptions of teaching, based on memories of
days where teachers taught solely from the front of
the classroom and silent, receptive children sat in
rows respectfully absorbing their teacher’s wis-
dom, still, to some extent, prevails, and that there
is an ignorance of current pedagogical practices
and the teaching role—a role that has changed
dramatically since the 1970s.
Comments from 14 participants supported
Alton-Lee and Praat’s (2001) positioning of
education in New Zealand as a low-status occupa-
tion, and the suggestion by King (1998) and
Cameron, Moss and Owen (1999) that the
association of caring with primary teaching is
significant in defining teaching at this level as a
low-status, women’s occupation. While other
studies (Gamble & Wilkins, 1997; Johnston,
McKeown, & McEwen, 1999; Lahelma, 2000)
demonstrate this to be an international phenom-
enon, five of the men in this study, including those
who had taught or travelled overseas, contended
that, in many countries, teachers are afforded a
higher status than they are in New Zealand and
that people in those countries have a better
appreciation of the demands inherent in primary
teaching.
While, in general, the participants agreed that
the status of primary school teaching in New
Zealand is low, and lower than it once was, the
males in the older age bracket (50 plus) argued
that status is an individual consignment dependent
on both the person making the judgement and the
credentials of the teacher being judged. In this
regard, they noted that women tend to rate the
status of teachers more highly than men, especially
in regard to men the participants termed ‘‘macho’’.
This is perhaps attributable to women having a
better understanding of the skills necessary to meet
the needs of, and manage, 30 children for 6 h per
day. One point that most of the participants did
agree on was that, as with many careers, status is
something individuals must earn over a period
of time:
It’s something that comes with the length of
service you’ve done. As a young person coming
out, there’s not much status for you; you almost
have to earn your stripes.
Thus, while status once ‘‘came’’ with appoint-
ment to a teaching position, the participants
generally agreed that this natural consignment no
longer exists and that teachers must work to earn
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P. Cushman / Teaching and Teacher Education 21 (2005) 227–240
mana. Of interest is the fact that the older teachers
in the study had not experienced perceptions of
low status from their communities, a finding that
may support the belief that the status of teaching
has declined in the last decades as parental
involvement and responsibilities in schools have
increased. Fifty-six percent of the Year 13
secondary school male students in my earlier study
(Cushman, 2000b) who planned to apply for
teacher training viewed the status of teachers as
a moderate to extreme concern. This perception is
partly attributable to the media, which, through an
increasing focus on the plight of male teachers in
primary schools, have accelerated the view of
teaching as a ‘‘no-man’s’’ world and a low-status,
women’s occupation (see, for example, Cropp,
2001; Ross, 2003a, b).
3.2. Salary
Pay parity between primary and secondary
teachers in New Zealand in the late 1990s appears
to have done much to ease disenchantment with
teachers’ salaries. However, for the study partici-
pants, their salaries still did not seem fair or
reasonable when compared with the salaries of
peers in other occupations and of teachers in other
countries. All participants told stories of acquain-
tances who appeared to have higher incomes and
more free time while working in less demanding
careers than theirs. Even more difficult to accept
were instances of former teaching colleagues who
had left the profession and were now using their
skills in higher paid 9 to 5 jobs:
I know two or three who have finished teaching
because of the money. And they look at me now
and say, ‘‘Why are you still teaching?’’
The lure of overseas teaching jobs with fewer
children per class, shorter working hours and
visibly higher salaries had not escaped the notice
and temptation of the participants. Four had
succumbed to the temptation and spent time
experiencing what one termed the ‘‘good life’’ by
teaching in other countries before returning to
‘‘settle down’’ closer to family and in a country
that, despite lower salaries, had much to offer in
terms of quality of life. But, overall, in New
231
Zealand teachers’ dissatisfaction with salaries is
high, with the majority of teachers believing that
salaries should be higher to reflect the work and
responsibilities integral to teaching (Cushman,
2000a; Cropp, 2001).
It’s the saying ‘‘You don’t go into teaching for
the money.’’ I wouldn’t be doing it if I were
doing it for the money. The story is that
traditionally more women were employed as
primary school teachers, and perhaps it was for
many a second income. If there were more
males, traditionally they would have been seen
as the breadwinners, so maybe the money
would have been better.
Work by Lindgard and Douglas (1999) and
Skelton (2001) confirms a correlation between
levels of teachers’ salaries and the gendered
location of teachers within schools; that is, males
are more likely to be located in management
positions, where salaries are higher, and females
are more likely to be clustered at junior levels,
where salaries are lower. Whether the attraction of
the higher salary is a major factor in men acquiring
a highly disproportionate number of senior posi-
tions or whether this is the result of the higher
status and closer fit to dominant notions of
masculinity at senior levels was not discussed.
What is clear is that these factors are all
inextricably interwoven (Carrington, 2002; Thorn-
ton & Bricheno, 2000). Not one of the participants
in the current study mentioned they were in
teaching for the money, and of those who had
entered teaching from another occupation, one
reported the following reaction when he received
his first pay as a teacher:
I got a hell of a shock when I got my first pay
packet. When I graduated from College, I had
been working part-time at a couple of jobs, and
I took a pay cut when I got my salary. I
couldn’t believe it.
However, most of the men who made comments
of this nature said that job satisfaction and
‘‘holidays’’ offered some compensation, sentiments
that accord with De Corse and Vogtle’s (1997) and
Gerson’s (1993) findings that more mature men
entering teaching as a second career value the
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232 P. Cushman / Teaching and Teacher Education 21 (2005) 227–240
intrinsic reward of personal satisfaction more
highly than financial gain. But, for many men,
salary alone may act as a sufficient deterrent to
entering the profession. This was highlighted in my
study of Year 13 male students (Cushman, 2000b).
In New Zealand, despite primary school teachers’
recent pay parity with their secondary colleagues,
59% of the students in my study who were
planning to apply for teacher training and 61%
of those who had decided against teaching rated
salary as a moderate or extreme concern.
3.3. Working in a predominantly female
environment
For the study participants, the reality of being a
gender minority group did not take long to register
when they embarked on their teaching careers. The
all too common references from colleagues to their
minority status were definitely unsettling and
disparaging. That their appointment may have
been assisted by their gender (Allan, 1993) was a
consideration few had anticipated and that two
angrily refuted. However, that achieving a gender
‘‘balance’’ may be a consideration for principals
when choosing staff was an aspect they did
acknowledge.
Do principals choose their staff to get a
balance? I know when I got my job I got it
quite fast, and I heard people say, ‘‘It’s only
because you’re a guy.’’ I hated that feeling.
‘‘Hating that feeling’’ probably related to the
discouragement that four participants reported, on
becoming aware that, even though they had
worked hard to qualify as a teacher, they perhaps
had been awarded their teaching positions for a
reason they considered had little to do with their
teaching ability.
While there may be a perception in the profes-
sion that men are given a hiring preference because
of the public demand for more male role models,
the study participants seemed to be at a loss to
identify exactly what such a role involves. The
expectation that the male teacher will provide an
effective role model and the confusion regarding
the explicit characteristics they are expected to
model has long been an issue for men as they
embark on their teaching career (Allan, 1993).
This fundamental question has, to date, received
little attention in the literature. Is a male teacher a
role model because he shows men to be caring,
nurturing and have a ‘‘feminine’’ side, as Ashley
(2001) suggests or is he a role model because he
can demonstrate the hegemonic masculine traits
common to a specific culture (Balchin, 2002; Burn,
2002)? Then, again, is he a role model, as suggested
by Skelton (2002), because he has a role to play in
fostering positive attitudes to study among boys?
Moreover, the premise so often reported in the
media that the male teacher can compensate in
some way for the absence of a male in the home
also deserves further examination. It implies on the
one hand that a child without a male caregiver in
the home is necessarily disadvantaged and, on the
other, that children from homes with abusive or
neglectful fathers are better off than those with
none.
That one is expected to model particular, but
unspecified, male characteristics and behaviours is
in itself daunting. To know you are expected to be
a ‘‘father substitute’’ could be almost inconceiva-
ble, especially for young, single males.
In my first year I had a boy who had no father,
and his mother was so happy because I was his
first male teacher. ‘‘All he talks about is you;
you’re his father figure.’’ I was thinking, ‘‘I’m
this father figure and I’m not a father. This feels
weird. What is expected of me?’’
I felt like I was used as a father figure in a lot of
cases too. ‘‘Can you keep an eye on such ‘n
such.’’ I think that’s an issue. I’m not even sure
what is implied.
The older teachers among the participants, with
children of their own, appeared more comfortable
with the role, perhaps seeing themselves as father
figure of an extended family. One teacher, in a
school with a large number of solo mother
families, saw himself and the caretaker to be very
often regarded as father figures. Comfortable with
this expectation, he also worked to ensure that the
needs of both boys and girls were being met at all
levels of the school.
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P. Cushman / Teaching and Teacher Education 21 (2005) 227–240
I’ve been getting at our new entrant teacher. I
said, ‘‘Your dress-up box—what have you got
in there for boys?’’ And she actually went
through it and didn’t find much. She went out
and got a lot of stuff that boys would
traditionally like to be playing with, which
was an interesting thing to do.
For the majority of males in this study, the
knowledge that they were regarded as male role
models had motivated them to reflect carefully on
what attitudes and behaviours they wanted young
people to associate with the male gender. In line
with current thought (King, 1998; Skelton, 2002)
that masculine and feminine traits are not the sole
prerogative of the respective gender, one partici-
pant spoke of his aspiration to provide a ‘‘holistic
approach’’ and ensure that inter- and intra-
personal skills, compassion and sensitivity were
strong features in his teaching style. The other
members of his discussion group responded with
interest to this statement, commenting that their
modelling role often lent itself to a more ‘‘physi-
cal’’ teaching style, with plenty of movement,
physical exercise and education outside the class-
room. This reaction could be seen to support
recent research (Skelton, 2001; Martino & Berrill,
2003) where males were reported as feeling a need
to identify themselves as ‘‘properly masculine’’.
There was, however, disagreement over the ex-
pected and demonstrated role model behaviour,
with one participant, for example, stating that a
special part of his role as a male teacher was his
ability to incorporate both ‘‘masculine’’ and
‘‘feminine’’ traits.
I think there is a real place for going outside
and being physical with the children, and there
is a lot more learning that can take place out
there besides physical education. And that is
where I really love to be. But there is also a
place for sitting down inside the classroom in a
circle, talking quietly and modelling how to
resolve conflict and all the sorts of things about
relating to other people. And that’s the piece
that I think is missing from all this.
This comment also brought to the fore recogni-
tion by the participants in this discussion group
233
that the desire to be more sensitive and compas-
sionate was often inhibited by the restrictions
placed on males’ interactions with children and the
mistrust these engendered.
All but two of the participants identified the
staffroom as one location where gender differences
were highlighted. Several thought that staff and
syndicate meetings ran quite differently according
to the number of males in attendance. For
example, they perceived meetings where males
were in the majority to be more efficient, shorter
and less likely to become sidetracked or emotional.
In casual staffroom interactions, Cameron et al.
(1999) found that male teachers were seen as
‘‘naturally’’ more interested in sport, ball games
and vehicles than female staff. The males in the
present study disputed this, considering their own
topics of conversation to be far-reaching and
female conversations as more often marked along
gender lines, with children, relationships and
clothes to the fore. They also noted that when,
on rare occasions, they chose to sit together in
staffrooms to share common interests, they could
expect to get ‘‘a hard time’’ from the females, and
that the expectation that their interests lay with
sport, ball games and vehicles arose in conversa-
tional expectations from female colleagues and the
roles they assigned the men.
In some New Zealand primary schools, parti-
cularly small ones, it is not uncommon for there to
be only one male on the staff, and as the comments
of one such teacher attested, their ‘‘plight’’ may be
even more apparent.
A lot of time you walk into the staffroom, and
you’re the only guy there, and they stop their
conservation. Or they ask you some question
like ‘‘Who won the rugby?’’ I get embarrassed
easily anyway, and I feel like they are trying to
talk to me just because I might feel a bit out of
it. A lot of time I do end up sitting on my own
in the staffroom, and then someone comes over
and tries to make conversation. I’d rather they
didn’t.
The issue of female staff, especially older ones,
attempting to ‘‘mother’’ young male teachers was
not uncommon.
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234 P. Cushman / Teaching and Teacher Education 21 (2005) 227–240
When I was a beginning teacher, they were like
that. If you were young and you would walk in
to the staffroom they acted as motherly figures
and treated you like a child.
I know they’d hassle me and say, ‘‘Oh your
shirt’s ironed nicely. Did your Mum do that?’’
And there’s no way I would say that to them.
On the whole, though, the participants tended to
see such interactions with female teachers as more
amusing than anything else. Most acknowledged
that these interactions generally occurred as part
of good-natured and caring relationships and were
integral to the maintenance of supportive and
positive team environments. It is important,
however, to recognise that if we are to successfully
address the issues confronting males in schools, we
need also to investigate the extent to which female
teachers perpetuate male and female stereotypes.
All school staff must be seen as stakeholders in the
issues confronting male teachers.
All of the participants recounted instances of
male role stereotyping, particularly by their female
colleagues, and resultant expectations of them.
For example, most of the men acknowledged an
assumption in their schools that they would favour
roles attached to sport or technological equipment,
a view that accords with Sargent’s (2000) recording
of the stereotypical view that men are more
assertive, task-oriented, utilitarian and authoritar-
ian than women. As Ludowyke (2001) has
asserted, male gender stereotyping increasingly is
at variance with current social and economic
realities. As such, modelling gender-stereotyped
behaviours not only reinforces these stereotypes
but also discourages shifts in thinking about them.
In the present study, the men acknowledged
familiarity with these role expectations, but at
the same time expressed difficulty in accepting the
expectation that they should accommodate them.
Like today I came into the staffroom very
briefly, and some lady came up to me and said,
‘‘I need a big strong man to carry in a TV from
the car. I looked around and it was, like, ‘‘It’s
you, man.’’ The staffroom was full of ladies and
cups of tea. You’re always getting stuff like
that.
I get all the physical jobs. Lifting. Like we were
running a conference, and we had to lift
computers in and out of a truck, and there
were only three males doing it, and there were
28 on the staff. It didn’t add up. And there was
no choice. I thought, ‘‘Hey, there are a lot of
women around here who are stronger than me.’’
For the study participants, another aspect of
gendered role assignment concerned situations
where children were required to dress and undress
as part of school activities, such as for sports,
swimming and camp. Here, the insistence that a
female parent accompany a male teacher to
swimming classes while female teachers could go
alone highlights the different degrees of trust
accorded to male and female teachers. That such
scenarios go unnoticed by children is unlikely.
Another role all men recognised as being
assigned largely to them was that of management
and discipline. Most agreed that whenever major
management issues arose with particular children,
those children would probably be referred to them
or other male teachers or placed in their classes.
All had experienced being singled out to cater for
the needs of difficult children.
I’m thinking about my current school and
where a child would be sent if there were major
behavioural issues, and they’re all men. There
is, I believe, the perception that the men will
generally deal with the discipline. Which is not
to say the women are undermined, but it is
noticeable when a child is becoming a problem
at school that the men somehow get the
intervention role.
That male teachers are accorded this role is
supported in the literature. Ludowyke’s (2001)
overview of gender issues in Victorian (Australia)
primary schools found principals and male tea-
chers were over-represented in roles and positions
emphasising discipline and authority rather than
nurturing and support. When male teachers are
allocated the children with behavioural problems,
it seems fair to suggest that these teachers will
devote more of their classroom time to manage-
ment issues. This could then influence the class-
room climate to the point where male teachers are
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P. Cushman / Teaching and Teacher Education 21 (2005) 227–240
seen as disciplinarians, a classic case, as Sargent
(2000) has observed, of the ‘‘self-fulfilling pro-
phecy’’ and what Burn (2002) has called the
‘‘discipline man’’. Perhaps one might even be
tempted to suggest that boys’ over-representation
in misbehaviour and under-achievement stakes
could partly reflect the more rigid teaching
strategies at times employed by male teachers
who find their classes weighted by more challen-
ging students (Burn, 2002; King, 1998; Skelton,
2001).
All of the participants questioned the logic of
the decision that males should be the dispensers of
discipline in schools, stating they were not
necessarily tougher or better at management than
the women. Could this be a legacy of days in which
some degree of physical strength was required in
the dispensing of physical punishment with the
cane or strap? Whatever the reason, the partici-
pants also acknowledged that, unlike the teachers
in King’s (1998) study, they rarely sought to
challenge the expectation that they should assume
this role in the school environment.
From the lonely ‘‘Romeo’’ to the resident
‘‘Hitler’’, male teachers seem to be assigned (by
colleagues, parents and the wider community) and
then to assume (as a self-fulfilling prophecy)
certain roles that have their genesis in stereotypical
notions of masculinity. For a good number of
male teachers, the all too frequent scenario of
being the only male teacher in a school is an
isolating experience. Such a teacher may be
reticent to share concerns with female colleagues,
and he may be diffident about seeking support
from the caretaker and principal, who generally
tend to be male but have different roles and
expectations held of them within the school. In
addition, for male teachers, any admission of
confusion regarding the male teacher’s role within
the school, or discomfort with aspects of that role,
may reinforce notions that men who choose to
teach in primary schools lack particular hegemonic
masculinity traits (Burn, 2002; King, 1998). Such
patterns inadvertently reinforce traditional gender
roles. On top of the struggle all teachers face in
keeping pace with the daily demands of teaching,
the extra pressures related to one’s maleness may,
not surprisingly, deter men from teacher training
235
or encourage premature departure from the
profession.
3.4. Physical contact
Despite the reality that actual accusation and
conviction rates are very low (Skelton, 2001), the
assumptions often made of male teachers in
relation to child abuse, sexual harassment and
other negative aspects of being in a profession
dealing with young children were evident in all the
focus groups. All participants agreed that being in
close contact with children was an issue that
constantly permeated their thoughts and actions.
The New Zealand Educational Institute’s Code of
Practice (NZEI, 2001, p. 2) states that any physical
contact with children presents a risk to the teacher.
It directs all teachers to ‘‘avoid inappropriate
physical contact’’ and lists ‘‘appropriate contact
situations’’ as those involved in physical educa-
tion, first aid and physical restraint. Where
children express themselves by seeking close
physical contact, NZEI insists that teachers must
remove themselves from the situation but first
explain to the children (presumably as best they
can) why they will not respond in kind. While the
NZEI guidelines are necessarily directed at all
teachers, it is generally the males who heed the
advice and their female colleagues who ignore it.
One might ask if the guidelines were, in fact,
written with all teachers in mind.
Teacher training colleges have, in recent years,
performed a dubious role in convincing men ‘‘not
to touch’’. By the time the study participants were
in classrooms of their own, such messages were
deeply ingrained and a reality in their everyday
interactions with children. Three of the men
labelled it a ‘‘paranoia’’ they could not shake off.
Part of this paranoia could also be attributed to
their first days of teaching when, as new teachers,
they had perceived themselves to be in the lime-
light not only because of their newness to teaching,
but also (and more so) because of their gender. For
four participants, even after years of teaching, and
with the trust and respect of children, colleagues
and parents, placing a reassuring or affirming
hand on a child’s shoulder was seen as far ‘‘too
risky’’.
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236 P. Cushman / Teaching and Teacher Education 21 (2005) 227–240
When I started, I was really paranoid, and I still
am in a way. I won’t put my hand on a kid’s
shoulder or anything like that. I’ve got a
daughter at school, too, and she comes up and
cuddles me, and all the kids see that. There was
a situation when she hurt herself, and I gave her
a cuddle, and then another little kid hurt herself
and was crying her eyes out. And this little girl
had just seen me cuddle my daughter and that
was what she was expecting, but I couldn’t. I
just had to stand back.
While such actions protect the child and the
male teacher, they do not contribute to comfor-
table working conditions, relationships with col-
leagues or feelings of high self-worth. The
participants acknowledged that many young chil-
dren in their schools were not having their
emotional needs met at home and looked to
teachers for support and reassurance. For the
majority of the men, their inability to respond with
ease to the children’s needs compounded their
anxiety and confusion over the physical contact
issue.
There are really a lot of needy children out there
who don’t get enough emotional support and
hugging, and you can feel them crying out in a
sense. I had one little girl, and she wanted to
come and hug me all the time in front of the
class, and I just had to have a word with her
and say, ‘‘Look, this is just not what we do.’’
The participants also observed that when young
children arrive from a classroom where their
previous teacher, a female, commonly engaged in
physical interactions, it makes it more apparent to
children that the ‘‘no touch’’ stance is something
related to the male gender rather than a school-
wide phenomenon. And when female colleagues
exhibit caring behaviours as a habitual and normal
part of their interactions with children, it becomes
even more difficult for them to feel comfortable
with their ‘‘stand off’’ position.
Like you see in the playground female teachers
holding children’s hands, and I think, ‘‘I can’t
do that, why can they?’’ If I did do it, there
would be uproar. If I were walking round with
three kids hanging off my arms, someone would
complain.
The participants also discussed the question of
how a teacher explains to children that, because he
is a male, he cannot give them the reassurance,
affirmation or physical security they may some-
times need. What message, they conjectured, does
a male teacher give when he insists on no physical
contact? Most of the males who were not prepared
to physically respond to these children were
prepared to inform the children they were unable
to, but not one could go to the next stage—
explaining why.
The kids ask why, and it’s hard to explain why.
I just say, ‘‘I can’t.’’ I know a guy who told
them (Year 1 children) that he was made of
glass and if they touched him he’d break. That’s
the only way they could understand.
As I’ve said, I don’t act naturally when some-
one’s crying or they want to sit next to me on
the couch. I just say, ‘‘Well you can’t.’’
According to Sargent (2000), men have three
options regarding the physical contact issue. The
first is to reject the commonly held expectation
that teaching involves a nurturing and pastoral
element and to focus on the subject matter. This
reinforces the notion that men and women have
different teaching styles, where nurturing is
permissible for one gender, but not the other.
The second is to follow their intuition and become
close to the children, integrating the behaviours
typically associated with female teachers into their
teaching style. The third option is to acknowledge
the inability to risk replicating behaviours asso-
ciated with female colleagues but publicly perform
compensatory behaviours. All three of these
choices were exemplified by the study participants.
Some, for example, exercised different degrees of
physical contact, depending on their own comfort
level, the needs of the particular child at a
particular time, and the location.
When I first started out, I was paranoid. I’d
never touch a child. Never! I’d just leave them.
The kid could be bawling their head off, but I
wouldn’t touch them. It was so clinical. I’ve
changed a bit now. But I would never touch a
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P. Cushman / Teaching and Teacher Education 21 (2005) 227–240
child in the classroom. If I’m in the playground
and someone really hurts himself or herself, I’ll
put a hand on their shoulder, but there are
always people there. I won’t be by myself in a
classroom with a child, and if suddenly I’m
aware I am, I just leave.
For four others, physical contact was seen to be
such an integral and natural aspect of the relation-
ship with young children that conflict between
attitudes and actions rarely occurred.
I try not to have issues with the touching thing.
At lunchtime today I had a kid from my last
year’s class come up to me and just throw his
arms around me and give me a hug. And I just
gave him a pat on the back and said, ‘‘Oh, you
still like your old teacher.’’ And then I gave him
a hug and he went off quite happily. It’s not an
issue. It comes naturally for me to do that.
Nonetheless, the frustration and difficulty asso-
ciated with having to behave in a way that felt
remote and unnatural was all too evident in the
comments of most of the participants, and the
knowledge that they needed to protect themselves
remained paramount. If a child wanted to hold the
teacher’s hand or to be comforted after a fall, most
of the participants acknowledged they would only
offer a touch of a reassuring nature in a public
arena, like the playground, when other adults were
around.
While there is a widespread assumption that
teaching young people involves a nurturing
relationship and that a caring touch is part of
that package, not all research supports this. In his
study of primary school boys’ social behaviour
and academic performance, Ashley (2002) found
the most important factor in academic develop-
ment is the security of attachments in the home
and that securely attached boys needed little
‘‘overt caring’’ at school. However, while most
discourse appears to support the need for nurtur-
ing relationships, very few schools have written
policies regarding physical contact with children or
even set boundaries to guide new teachers. It is
therefore of interest that one enlightened school
represented in the study had made the decision to
bring the topic to a public forum. In this school,
237
parents were surveyed as to their attitudes towards
physical contact between children and all teachers.
A positive response from parents and caregivers
legitimised teachers’ rights to nurture the children.
In another school, discussing a young child’s need
for physical reassurance with the child’s parent
was a means of ensuring the teacher was able to
meet the child’s needs and at the same time protect
himself. And one principal even informed parents
of his stance in the school newsletter and asked
parents to contact him if they were not happy with
it. These activities exemplify the need to be
transparent regarding the physical contact issue,
and so emphasise its significance for teachers.
Most teachers take their lead from the estab-
lished ethos in the school in which they gain
employment. If all teachers, male and female, are
seen to hold children’s hands, and physically
comfort them when hurt, insecure or in need of
affirmation, the new teacher is likely to adopt
similar patterns of interaction. It is probably in
schools where strictly ‘‘no touching’’ policies,
written or inherently understood, are adhered to
that conflict arises in males for whom touching
feels normal and natural. It is almost inevitable
that, at times, even males who are generally at ease
with their no touching position, will question both
the NZEI Code of Conduct and their own chosen
or imposed behaviour.
The result of men’s avoidance of physical
contact is that children are receiving very strong
messages about touch, to the extent that close
physical contact could even be perceived as abuse.
They are also receiving strong messages about the
very different behaviours and interactions one can
expect from males and females.
Men are portrayed as untrustworthy. If it’s not
safe for me to touch kids but it’s okay for my
female colleagues, what is that saying about
men?
I’m quite open with my class but I am aware of
what perceptions could be there. So I hesitate
and I don’t know what effect that hesitating has
on the kids. If they see you hesitating, do they
think, ‘‘Doesn’t he really like me that much?’’ I
don’t know. I know I hesitate, and that
hesitation worries me.
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238 P. Cushman / Teaching and Teacher Education 21 (2005) 227–240
The extensive media exposure given to the small
number of cases where teachers have abused
children has created a heightened awareness not
just amongst male teachers but also amongst
parents and children. One participant had a
colleague who installed a camera in his room for
the sole purpose of self-protection. Teachers are
aware that even a false allegation can spell the end
of their career. Moreover, streetwise young people
can amplify this sense of vulnerability.
I think you know that you’re always open to it.
In one of my first years of teaching, I was at an
intermediate school, and I just said, ‘‘Go and
stand over there’’ to a boy, and he said, ‘‘You
hit me.’’ He was dead serious, and he knew all
the things he could do, so from then on it was
obvious to me that you are vulnerable to
whatever a kid decides to do, and to me that’s
pretty scary.
When teachers are forced to hesitate and
consider ramifications based on each individual
case, the potential damage inherent in that
hesitation, as well as in the possible subsequent
action, should not be underestimated. For male
teachers, deliberating over whether they can, in
fact, afford to touch a child causes undue pressure
and stress that is rarely experienced by the
majority of teachers, that is, female teachers, in
primary schools. Suggesting that this is a con-
tributing factor in the failure of male teacher
recruitment and retention strategies is unlikely to
be an overstatement.
Although Ashley (2002) disputes the necessity
for male teachers to engage in physical interactions
with children, most of the literature appears to
support the view that while it need not be an
essential part of a male’s teaching style, it should
be an option. And, contrary to Ashley’s (2002)
view, some school authorities even go so far as to
say that schools are failing in their role if male
teachers avoid contact with children, especially
when the children need help (Keen, 2003). While
acknowledging that all teachers need to use
commonsense, Keen’s article, based on the beliefs
of a retiring school principal, argues that schools
must create an environment that allows male
teachers to feel comfortable about physical con-
tact. Until NZEI gives both male and female
teachers clear and equitable guidance on their
roles, responsibilities and boundaries in interac-
tions with children, the mist that shrouds males’
day-to-day encounters and causes confusion,
pressure, discomfort and inequities for all teachers
will continue to envelop them.
4. Conclusions
The comments of the 17 male teachers in this
study confirm that the issues of salary, status,
working in a predominantly female environment,
and physical contact with children influence men’s
decisions to take up teaching and to stay in the
career once there. These issues, especially physical
contact, can result in stress for male teachers
throughout their career.
The public image of teaching as low status is the
source of many reactionary statements on the part
of family, friends and others when a man decides
to become a teacher. However, once in teaching,
male teachers often reconcile themselves to low-
status perceptions as they come to recognise the
value of what they do and to gain self-worth from
it. Pay parity has partly addressed salary concerns,
although no participant felt the salary adequately
recompensed the demands and challenges inherent
in teaching. Also, the inequity in teaching status
and salary between New Zealand and other
countries was cited as a source of concern and
seen to be a contributing factor to the large
number of teachers who choose to teach overseas.
Of greater concern were the issues confronted in
being part of a highly gendered workforce. Schools
are gendered demographically and in terms of
division of labour. The participants felt they were
frequently and illogically assigned roles involving
manual labour and behaviour management. To
assume that males are the best disciplinarians or
the strongest members in a workplace creates
difficulties not only for the targeted males.
Children who are constantly assimilating informa-
tion relevant to gender roles and trying to make
sense of them in a world where non-sexism and
inclusion are increasingly highly valued must find
such role differentiation confusing.
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P. Cushman / Teaching and Teacher Education 21 (2005) 227–240
As all teachers have a responsibility to make
schools supportive learning environments for
all students, male teachers need to be supported
and encouraged in exercising the full range of
opportunities and practices available to them as
primary school teachers. Effectively addressing the
current situation will necessitate collaboration
between school, society and the media. In addi-
tion, teacher training colleges need to recognise
their role in the process and to move their focus
from simply attempting to redress the gender
balance. The simple request for more male
teachers needs to be challenged, as increasing the
proportion of males in schools is, by itself, not
enough. Precisely why more male teachers are
needed and what exactly the role of the ‘‘male role
model’’ in the school setting is are questions
currently informing international research and
debate (see, for example, Burn, 2002; Skelton,
2003). The expectation that a male teacher can
compensate for absent fathers deserves further
exploration in terms of rationale and expectations.
Whether this same expectation is extended to the
teachers of fatherless females also needs to be
determined.
Male teachers and male principals remain over-
represented in positions emphasising discipline
and authority rather than nurturing and support.
Such patterns inadvertently reinforce some very
traditional and unhelpful gender divides. While
more male teachers are needed, more female
principals and senior managers are needed as well.
Providing more opportunities for both men and
women to take up counter-traditional roles in the
primary school may appear on the surface to be
one effective strategy in helping address such
concerns. However, as with the issues embedded
within male role modelling, the factors influencing
traditional gender differences in the school envir-
onment are multi-faceted and complex (Thornton
& Bricheno, 2000) and need to be considered in
any strategies designed to redress gender imbal-
ance. Education regarding the complexities of how
boys and girls, and male and female teachers,
construct their gender identities in the classroom
and wider school community needs to become an
essential component of teacher training and
professional development.
239
The issue of different ‘‘rules’’ for male and
female teachers in their interactions with children
also requires further research and public debate.
The current situation breeds confusion, stress and
a pressure to conform to a hegemonic masculinity
contrary to the natural and nurturing tendencies of
many male primary school teachers. Within
schools, the qualities of a good primary teacher
are largely androgynous. The need is for teachers
of either gender who will manage schools so that
supportive peer relationships flourish. The need is
also for teachers who can address the affective
needs of both boys and girls and, through their
own modelling of inclusive practices, encourage
children to move beyond stereotypical role ex-
pectations. Thus, the issue of male teachers
requires further discourse and debate in all
educational arenas. While outside the scope of,
and perhaps a limitation of this paper, this
necessarily implicates an examination of the social
construction of gender and a consciousness of
hegemonic masculinities such as those considered
in work by Clatterbaugh (1990), Skelton (2001,
2002, 2003) and Martino and Berrill (2003). As
noted earlier, this article documents research that
is part of a larger study wherein the social
construction of gender and consciousness of
hegemonic masculinities are explored in more
depth.
Currently, many men do not appear to ‘‘fit’’
comfortably into the culture of the primary school.
They are often physically isolated in the staffroom
and in the allocation of roles. Emotionally, they
are isolated in their inability to care and nurture in
ways that are inherent in the practices of most
female teachers. They often feel ‘‘under the
microscope’’—in a role won for reasons other
than their own merits. It is little wonder that men
choose not to teach. And it is not surprising there
is a high attrition rate of males from teacher
training colleges (Cushman, 1998) and schools
(Cushman, 2000a, b). For the men who do teach,
their love of children, their commitment to the
profession and their positivism in the face of
endless scrutiny and challenges can only categorise
them as a unique and remarkable group. But until
the barriers and attitudes that underlie these
challenges are addressed and alleviated, it is
 ARTICLE IN PRESS
240 P. Cushman / Teaching and Teacher Education 21 (2005) 227–240
unlikely that the proportion of males to females in
the staffroom photograph will change.
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