Weary parents filed into the library, eschewing responsibilities of soccer night or book club in order to find out what exactly our kids would be hearing over the next few days. They were going to have the “sex talk”, not by us, but in a packaged and appropriately aged presentation for each peer group, led by educators hired by the PAC. I, for one, was thankful. (See under “portfolio…The Furry Underwear, on the website) I am sure I will mess it up, or leave something out. These people are professionals: this is what they do. They go in, they show a pop up body book, explain all the parts and what they are for, and then disappear into the dark hallway like a shadowy superhero. Then it’s recess and most of the little kids forget anything about what they just heard. Most of the older ones are too gob-smacked to say much at all, or make eye contact for about three days, or they are so cool with it that they already know what “sexting” is, even though they are 12 and I am 40 and have only just heard that term.
I was introduced to the world of sex through the school gym. The girls and boys were separated, much to our tittering excitement. The girls filed in to watch a projection on the white screen, one that must have still been from the 50’s, as it shuddered and hitched its way through what a woman’s menses were. That is a terrible name, menses. First of all, “men” should be left out of it. It shouldn’t sound like mentos or any kind of breath freshener or like something one could easily rid oneself of. “Oh, just caught a bit of the ol’ menses, should be fine in a day or two.” No, it should be called Goregotha or crotchellfire. or just, the thing. “I’ve got the thing, you know, THAT” and we could all groan and offer condolences. “She can’t swim in gym today, she has the thing.” I could live with that term. But “period”, or “time of the month” (which it is not) or “my monthly friend”…seriously. Who was doing the marketing when they came up with this crap? Anyway I was staring up at this foreboding object that was supposed to be on my insides: the great and almighty vagina with scary looking fallopian tubes! I thought, egads, I’m quite sure there is nothing that looks like that inside me. I had recently seen a Star Trek movie, even though the film was too old for me, and this thing looked very much like a Klingon ship, menacing and fierce. Something like this….
Or maybe this, although this one looks more, um, testicular…..
Either way I was really freaked out. I swear the film sped up to say “and menstruation will stop when a sperm is introduced to an egg…here is where the film “blips” and suddenly there is a sperm swimming up, as the process is described in scientific detail, by a voice not unlike “the eagle” from the Muppets. “And there you have it, the miracle of life,” he said, as the projector snapped off and the lights went up. I was dazed. What had just happened? This was all bad, I could just feel it, and I had questions, but there was no way I was going to ask them here. Home? Hmm. Let’s just say that at my house these things weren’t open for discussion, and by the time my thing came knocking, my Mom showed me where the “supplies” were. That’s how they were described forevermore. Supplies, as in, “man down, man down! Get supplies!” No mention of how to use them, just, that’s where they are and good luck. My later sex-ed wasn’t much better. I will never forget the guy who came to our class and tried to be “cool” with us, as he rapped about sex and then proceeded to put a condom on an enormous sausage, explaining to the guys that “one size fits all, so no complaining.” This was also very scarring and I have only ever been able to buy German sausage in pre-sliced packages since. So I had my concerns.
The burning question on my mind was, “If you tell them about it, aren’t they just going to want to go home and try it?” But no, statistics say the educated ones don’t feel the need to sneak out to a bush party and feel up the first person that comes along. They say, yeah, we know all about it. When we are ready, we will try, but not until then.” I guess they realize that raising babies is more expensive than, say, a monthly cellular plan, so they wait a bit. I ask my kids if they have any questions about being a “body scientist” and they say, no, all good mom, and for now, that is exactly what I want to hear.