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In Defense Of Ontario’s Sex Education Curriculum

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I was educated at a girls-only Catholic school run by nuns. Our sex education was fairly basic and had a singular message: we weren’t to have sex, or engage in any physical contact with boys. When we did start having sex – only after marriage, of course – the only form of contraception we could use was the rhythm method. Every sperm was sacred, and all of them had to be given a chance. Sex was there for procreation only. If we could manage to avoid enjoying it, so much the better.

The concept of “safe sex” was never taught – why would it be, when abstinence was the word of the decade? Our sex education did not comprehensively cover the area of consent, and if anyone had even mentioned respect for gay rights, the nuns would have had a heart attack.

The simple truth is that we were not told enough, and we suffered for it. I mean, we knew about the mechanics of sex. Most of us had mothers who did a good job of preparing us for menstruation, and we knew that if the sperm hit the egg, pregnancy would result. We had a good grasp on the biology of it all. But sex is so much more than biology, isn’t it?

No-one thought to tell us about body image and self-esteem – if anything, we were all encouraged to be skinny so that we could appeal to the boys we were forbidden from having physical contact with. We were given no information about how to reduce our risk of sexually transmitted diseases, or where to access birth control. Any discussion about rape was centred around two themes: how we had to make sure we didn’t “ask for it” (the clear implication being that rape victims were responsible for the crimes committed against them – an attitude that is frighteningly prevalent even today), and how abortion was not acceptable even if the pregnancy was a result of rape.

When I look back at the quote-unquote “sex education” that I received at school, I cannot help being utterly befuddled by the current spate of protests against Ontario’s sex education curriculum. If me and my peers had had access to the information being taught today, many of us might have been better equipped than we were to navigate the world of sex and relationships.

Those protesting the Ontario sex education curriculum are tossing around some statements that are either untrue or unreasonable. Here are some of the prizewinners and my responses:

They are teaching young children how to consent to sex. No, they are NOT. They are teaching young children that nobody has the right to hug them, touch them or have any kind of physical contact with them without their consent. They are teaching them how to tell what kind of touching is never OK, and what they should do if they find themselves in a difficult situation. They are teaching them that they, and they alone, are in charge of their bodies.

They are giving graphic information about sex to grade schoolers. Sorry, but teaching a child the proper terms for their genitals does not count as “graphic information about sex”.

Sex education is the job of parents, not the schools. Some kids are fortunate enough to have parents they can have completely frank discussions with. Others have parents who tell them nothing. Most kids fall somewhere in the middle. Their parents have the best intentions, but they – the kids – need to be able to talk to another trusted adult about some delicate issues. Having an organized sex education curriculum ensures that all kids have access to information that is really important. Besides, what would you rather have? Kids learning from people who are trained to teach them, or kids learning from each other and from Google?

They are teaching kids about masturbation. Look, it’s not like they’re giving illustrated how-to manuals to Kindergartners. They are merely teaching young adolescents that exploring their bodies is a normal part of life and that it’s not something to be ashamed of. Quite frankly, what they’re teaching about masturbation now is less graphic than what they taught four or five decades ago.

The sex education curriculum needs to be respectful of our religious freedoms, and we believe that homosexuality is a sin. Actually, no, the curriculum does not need to be respectful of “religious freedoms”. It needs to be consistent with the laws of Canada, which prohibit discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation.

But it’s wrong to teach that homosexuality is normal. Our kids are growing up in a society that has many versions of “normal”. There are traditional households with a man, a woman, two-point-four children and a dog named Rover. There are single moms and single dads, blended families, gay parents. We live in one of the most diverse societies in the world, and our education system has to reflect that.

I don’t see why I have to subject my child to this sex education curriculum. Ah, but you don’t. You have the choice to opt your children out of the sex education curriculum. You have the choice to make your child sit alone in the library while his or her peers are learning about the realities of life.

What are your views about sex education? If you live in Ontario, what do you think of the curriculum?

This is an original post for Running For Autism by Kirsten Doyle. Photo credit: QuotesEverlasting. This pictures has a creative commons attribution license.

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Autism And Adolescence: Preparing For The Storm

I was educated in the 80’s at a girls-only Catholic school that was run by nuns. The school was high on academic excellence, and a high percentage of its graduates went on to achieve some pretty impressive things. At the same time, though, the school fell flat where it came to life skills training, and many of those people who wound up in noteworthy careers also struggled in various areas of their personal lives.

Throughout high school, I frequently found myself being summonsed to the principal’s office. The principal was a mean old nun named Sister Elizabeth, and she hated me simply because I was not a clone of my cousin, who she had taught at a different school several years previously. Every visit to her office was the same, regardless of what alleged infraction had sent me there. First, Sister Elizabeth would ask me why I couldn’t be like my cousin, and then she would put on a grave face and say, “Whether you throw a teaspoonful of mud or a bucketful of mud, you’re still throwing mud.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

I mean, I was the shy, socially awkward kid in my peer group. I wasn’t exactly a trouble-maker, and when I did hit a difficult patch in eleventh grade, my troubles were directed towards myself, and barely caused a ripple beyond my immediate group of peers. I was never caught smoking under the bleachers, I never swore at a teacher, and I never had a pack of condoms fall out of my pocket while running down the hall. Interestingly enough, the person who all of this did happen to was never, to my knowledge, sent to see the dreaded Sister Elizabeth.

What the school laughably called “sex education” happened in the form of a couple of talks given to us by outside counselors when I was somewhere around tenth grade. The talks had the following central theme: if you have sex before marriage, you will undoubtedly go through teen pregnancy and a life of poverty and deprivation, and your child will be a juvenile delinquent addicted to drugs, and when you die you will go to hell.

We were given some very basic information about the different forms of contraception, and then told not to use any of them on the grounds that they were a sin. The only acceptable forms of birth control, we were told, were abstinence and the Rhythm Method (which, of course, was reserved strictly for marriage, because of the whole going-to-hell thing associated with sex).

In retrospect, the timing and the subject matter of these sex education talks was kind of funny. By the time we had to listen to them, most of my peers had been sexually active for at least a year and probably knew more about contraception than the people delivering the talks. To my knowledge, there was only one teen pregnancy in my peer group, and it happened after we had all graduated high school.

Things today are very different. Kids are maturing physically at a younger age than my generation did, and for the most part, society seems to have let go of the notion that teens just shouldn’t have sex. There is an acceptance that they are going to do it anyway, so we may as well equip them with the tools and knowledge to do it safely. I am all for that, although I certainly wouldn’t want my boys to be experimenting with sex until they have reached  a certain level of emotional maturity.

The question that is plaguing me is this: how do I deal with this topic where my son with autism is concerned? He may only be turning eight in September, but time flies, and before we know it he will be entering the world of pre-adolescence. His physical maturation will far outpace his social development, and I worry about the time when he will have physical drives that he will not be emotionally equipped to deal with.

And so I have decided to start seeking out resources and advice on this topic now.

That way, when the storm of adolescence hits, I may have a fighting chance of helping my son navigate his way through it all.

(Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/alamosbasement/3661120171)