Sex Education

Illustration by Anna Hardstaff.

In light of recent discussions around sex education in the media, notably with regard to RTE’s documentary Asking for It: Reality Bites and the introduction of sexual consent classes in some Irish universities, we asked three writers to tell us about their personal experience of sex education.

 

“What happens to boys?” Those are the words that haunt me whenever I cast my mind back to the handful of sex-ed lessons I received. The woefully inadequate animation that I’m sure a lot of you are familiar with explained with a chirrupy cheerfulness the physical changes a boy’s body went through during puberty. We were shown it twice, first in Primary school and then again, a year later, in secondary. It was only the second time that us ‘lads’ were also shown the accompanying video “what happens to girls?” an admittedly more detailed and scarring video that featured the same delighted narrator. The videos offered no guidance on sex, or mental maturation, or what happens to boys who think they’re girls, or girls who like girls, or boys who like nobody, or even why puberty happened. Our primary school teacher told us about sex and condoms and the pill. Our secondary school teacher spoke only about abstinence. It seemed to me a step backwards, but I was too busy freaking out over what happens to girls to speak up.
– Michael Mullooly

 

I spent the first four years of secondary school in a loreto abbey. It was the type of school that boasted life-size statues of Jesus in the corridors, morning prayers and monthly mandatory mass. My formal sexual education was part of a larger HSPCE module – maybe a chapter in the textbook, or a two week long topic, and the occasional speaker came in to show us disgusting pictures of STDs. It wasn’t so much about the act as opposed to the consequences, and believe me when I say the consequences were dire. Apart from graphic imagery, much of the topic dealt with the many, already experienced changes to our bodies (as if most of us hadn’t already dealt with pubes and boobs), as well as the basics of being horny teenagers. In a nutshell, much of what was “learnt” was simply common teenage knowledge, passed between groups of friends in the corridors (with Jesus watching from overhead). For me personally, sexual education came via word-of-mouth, while the class was simply a chance to pass notes and doodle aimlessly. Not an education, but a dull reaffirmation.
– Sarah Morel
       

We had a brief foray in primary school. We covered the basics of menstruation and reproduction, and discussed sexual abuse and inappropriate touching. In secondary school; SPHE classes were a few times a year. Plenty of very red faces and howling laughter. We were asked to anonymously submit questions to be answered aloud; this was quickly scrapped when a boy at the back of class bellowed out “WHAT DOES CUM TASTE LIKE?” I can’t remember anything except: no sex until you’re ‘ready’, condoms=good, and STIs/STDs=bad. My best sex-ed experience was when a local GP held a Q & A session for the entire year group. It was the most honest and open discussion about sex and sexual health that I had in school. Most of my friends actually felt like they had learned something. Never trust anyone who says they’ll pull out, and boys properly need to wash… down there. Although this was the most informative class I can remember, it was probably too late by 4th year. Many people had already had some form of sexual contact. I would say for quite a liberal and open school, we experienced an above average sex education. Yet we only covered reproduction and protection, with no discussion of healthy relationships, pleasure or consent. Biology and Home economics had to help fill in the gaps.
– Emma Byrne

 

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