Theatre Students Are Speaking Up About Abuse. Programs Must Catch Up.
by Chris Peterson
Every time another story breaks about a theatre teacher accused of sexually abusing or grooming a student, the reaction is understandably visceral.
How many more are there? How many adults have used rehearsal rooms, casting power, private lessons, after-school hours, competitions, and mentorship as cover? How many students tried to say something and were ignored? How many programs protected reputations before they protected children?
These are not comfortable questions. But they are necessary ones.
In recent years, there has been what feels like a steady increase in reports involving theatre educators and minors. In New Jersey, a Pequannock High School theater and vocal music teacher was charged in September 2025 with aggravated sexual assault and other offenses after prosecutors said he sexually assaulted a student who was 15 and 16 at the time. William Arnold was suspended by the district and awaiting trial, according to police and school officials.
In Kentucky, federal prosecutors charged a Jefferson County high school theater teacher at duPont Manual High School’s Youth Performing Arts School with distributing and possessing child sexual abuse material. The Justice Department said Brian Hinds admitted to sending and receiving child sexual abuse material through online messaging apps, while noting that authorities had not identified any current or former duPont Manual student as a victim at that time. Hinds has been sentenced to more than 12 years in federal prison.
In Tennessee, OnStage Blog previously reported on former Metro Nashville Public Schools drama teacher, Gary Schleimer, who was charged with aggravated sexual battery of a minor after being accused of inappropriately touching a female student while alone in a classroom. His trial begins in August 2026.
Each of these cases is different. Some involve charges, some allegations, some ongoing legal proceedings, and some conduct that may not fit the same criminal category. But together, they point to a reality the theatre education world can no longer avoid: students are coming forward, law enforcement is being contacted, and communities are being forced to confront behavior that too often thrived in silence.
That does not necessarily mean there are more monsters out there than before.
It may mean students are braver than ever. It may mean former students are finally finding the language to describe what happened to them. It may mean classmates, parents, and colleagues are more willing to speak up. It may mean institutions that once had every incentive to keep things quiet are now finding it harder to do so.
The national data support that distinction.
According to the U.S. Department of Education’s Civil Rights Data Collection, public schools reported 9,649 incidents of sexual assault, rape, or attempted rape during the 2015–16 school year. By 2021–22, schools reported more than 19,000 incidents of rape, attempted rape, or sexual assault.
That number is horrifying. It should be.
But it should also be read carefully. These are reported and documented incidents. They do not prove that twice as many assaults occurred. They prove that far more incidents were reported to, recorded by, or identified within school systems.
Theatre programs can be extraordinary places for young people. They are often where students find their first real sense of belonging. A great theatre teacher can change a student’s life.
But those same environments can also create vulnerabilities when the wrong adult is in the room.
Theatre often depends on trust. Students are asked to be emotionally open. They rehearse after school, at night, and on weekends. They travel. They change clothes backstage. They work in close physical proximity. They receive notes on their bodies, voices, emotions, and choices. They seek approval from adults who may control casting, recommendations, scholarships, awards, and access to opportunities.
None of that is inherently abusive. Much of it is part of the work. But it does mean theatre programs must be honest about power.
That means no private messaging that cannot withstand scrutiny. No secret meetings. No favoritism disguised as mentorship. No one-on-one situations without safeguards. No adults building emotional dependencies with students. No administrators brushing off rumors because the teacher makes the school look good.
It also means we should stop treating student reports as disruptions to a program’s reputation. A student coming forward is not the problem. The abuse is the problem.
If more students are reporting abuse today, that is a sign of strength.
They have grown up with more public conversations about abuse of power. They are more likely to recognize behavior that previous generations were told to minimize. They are more likely to tell a friend, save a message, name a boundary, or ask why an adult is treating them differently from everyone else.
That does not mean every report will be simple. It does not mean every allegation will be instantly clear. Schools still owe fairness, process, and careful investigation.
But fairness cannot become a hiding place for inaction.
Theatre educators who do the work ethically should welcome the following safeguards (and if your theatre program isn’t doing all of these things, the time to start is now: insist on it
Background checks: they should be done on all adults working in theatre, full stop.
Policies and processes for reporting abuse: clearly defined and communicated to all individuals
Chaperone policies clearly define the rules and expectations, with the biggest one being “No One-on-one” time
Communication rules when can adults communicate with students, on what topics and for how long.
Clear student-adult boundaries do not threaten good teachers. They protect them. More importantly, they protect students.
The rise in reports should alarm us. But it should not lead us to conclude that theatre education is beyond saving or that every teacher is suspect. It should lead us to build programs where abuse becomes zero-tolerance policy.
Maybe there are not suddenly more monsters. Maybe more students are finally being believed.
And maybe the real test for schools, theatre departments, and arts communities is whether we see that as a crisis of reputation—or a long overdue opportunity to protect the kids who trusted us in the first place.