Few would disagree that, at some point, children ought to understand how the human reproductive system works. It tends to be the case that children initiate this exploration, often prompted by increasing awareness of their private parts or the anticipated arrival of a younger sibling.
But discrepancies can arise between parental preferences and school delivery of such information. That was the case at Holy Name Catholic Primary School in Toowoomba, Queensland. Appalled that his children, aged seven and nine, were shown genital diagrams and a birthing video, Greg Wells transferred them to a state school.
The story highlights the contentious and complex nature of sex education: how much ought to be revealed at which age and by whom? The fact that sexual norms vary among communities naturally makes such curriculum problematic. In fact, there is no comprehensive syllabus being applied consistently across Australian states and territories. Inevitably, schools are being accused of either doing too much too early or not enough.
What is the place of sex education in schools, anyway? The answer lies in the context in which children and teenagers live today.
The latest report from the Australian Research Centre in Sex, Health and Society reveals startling trends in the sexual behaviour of year 10 and 12 students. Its fourth National Survey of Secondary Students and Sexual Health, which involved nearly 3000 young people from 100 secondary schools, showed that 78 per cent have experienced some form of sexual activity.
There are also significant increases in the proportion of sexually active students reporting three or more partners in a year (rising from 20 per cent in 2002 to 30 per cent in 2008), as well as young women reporting unwanted sex (increasing from 28 per cent to 38 per cent).
According to Associate Professor Anne Mitchell, one of the authors of the survey, the reality is that 'puberty comes earlier these days and marriage or life-long partnering occurs much later, so young people have quite a long period in their lives where they are likely to be sexually active with different partners, exposed to STIs (sexually transmissible infections) and not wanting to become pregnant'.
In this light, she says, schools are best placed to cover sexual health not only because young people are a captive audience, but because it is where they can be supported in developing a mature sexual ethic. Outside of school, few such opportunities arise.
Christy Measham, an education officer at Family Planning Tasmania (who, incidentally, is the author's cousin-in-law), offers another argument — that children are already exposed to messages about sex from the media, most of which are misleading.
Thus, when parents protest that their child is not ready or doesn't need to know about 'such things', she often asks them if their child has a computer or owns a mobile. It may be that their child has already been exposed to inappropriate images and content without the mediation of an adult.
Mitchell agrees that the concern about protecting innocence can be misplaced.
'Parents do hold on to the fear that children will hear too much too early. This may have been an issue 50 years ago, but we only have to look around us — at the degree to which sex is used in advertising, at sexual explicitness in the media generally, and the wealth of opportunities that the internet provides to satisfy sexual curiosity — to appreciate that 'innocence' is destroyed very early.'
This sort of exposure can be offset by timely and appropriate information. According to Measham, for lower primary students, this means naming the human anatomy (with the aid of a basic diagram) as well as learning that there are rules concerning private parts and that it is important to talk to somebody about any concerns.
Evidently, sex education is no longer just about learning how the reproductive system works, how babies are conceived, STIs and contraception. While this may still be the case in some schools, there is now a distinct movement in sexual health literacy towards building lifelong, personal skills. These include paying attention to emotions, setting boundaries, acting within one's values, and using appropriate language.
Such skills are not necessarily associated with sexual intercourse, which tends to be the flashpoint. Instead, there is increasing focus on individual wellbeing and healthy relationship, which in the end is the correct context for talking about sex.
This, perhaps, can be the common ground upon which parents and schools agree. It is a collaboration that is essential for sex education to be effective, and is how Mitchell describes best practice. 'It should be based on a partnership between parents and the school', she says, 'each of them covering the territory that is difficult for the other.' She also advocates age-appropriate learning from kindergarten through to year 12.
Measham adds that sex ed is more than just the one-off 'talk' that parents feel obliged to give to their children. It is also more than the two lessons teachers think they can spare in a school year. 'Children learn about sexuality just from observing how adults relate to one another, and how they react to situations', she explains.
In this sense, it is worth wondering how Wells' reaction to the school's sex education methods will influence his children's understanding of sexuality.
'Teachers and parents often forget how much of a role model they are,' Measham comments. She remarks that it is nothing to be concerned about when children start giggling or making jokes about private parts, as was the case with Wells' seven-year old son, because it is a phase that they normally outgrow.
As Mitchell says, what remains important is 'that children and young people get reliable information to make sense of it all, and have a way of getting answers to their questions from someone they trust'.
Fatima Measham is a state school teacher in Victoria.