We need to talk about genitals

You can't teach sex education without using the proper words, although schools minister Nick Gibb seems to think otherwise.

How can you teach sex education without saying the words "penis" and "vagina" - or perhaps even talking about sex? We are about to find out.

The Society For The Protection of the Unborn Child (SPUC) has published a letter from Nick Gibb, the schools minister, where he writes:

"I can confirm that neither the current National Curriculum nor the new draft programme of study requires the naming of internal or external body parts with reference to reproduction. The current National Curriculum level descriptions and the new draft notes and guidance make clear that this is not included when pupils are taught to name the main body parts in KS1/Year 1"

and:

"Whilst the new draft includes a little more detail about reproductive processes than the current curriculum; it requires a pupil in Year 6 to be taught to compare the life process of reproduction in plants and animals; the programme of study itself does not require pupils to be taught about the mechanisms by which fertilisation takes place."

As a qualified Secondary Science teacher and Sex and Relationships Education Advisory Teacher, and a parent, I was very surprised by this. 

The SPUC have interpreted it to mean “schools are not required to teach children about sex in science lessons”, which a spokesperson for the Department of Education has stated is misleading and unhelpful (they also reminded us that the document is draft and not yet finalised). 

However, concerns remain. There are so many misunderstandings about what Primary School Sex & Relationships Education (including the Statutory Science National Curriculum) is and is not, with existing primary school provision being extremely variable between schools.

The Science National Curriculum (which is under review) currently mentions reproduction should be covered in both Key Stage 1 and 2, and the current draft version states, under “All Living Things for Year 6 (10/11-year-olds)":

“Examples that can be used include: animals reproduce sexually: fish: eggs are externally fertilised; birds: eggs are internally fertilised and laid as a shelled egg; mammals, including humans: eggs are internally fertilised and young are born alive.”

So it is actually ambiguous whether teachers should cover the “mechanisms by which fertilisation takes place” – also known as "sex" to most people. 

Meanwhile, although pupils at KS2 are expected to know more complicated organs such as “lungs; nose, throat, trachea, bronchi, bronchial tubes, diaphragm, ribs”, nowhere in the document is "penis" or "vulva/vagina" mentioned for either KS1 or KS2, with the only the names of the main “acceptable” body parts being mentioned: “head, neck, arms, elbows, legs, knees, face, ears, eyes, hair, mouth, teeth, etc.”

That leaves it up to the teacher whether they dare to mention the genitals under the ambiguous “etc”. In light of Nick Gibbs's letter to SPUC, it is a worry whether teachers will feel confident enough to do so. 

Personally, I would say it would be somewhat tricky to teach human reproduction without naming the reproductive organs or mentioning sexual intercourse - but this absolutely can and should be done in an age-appropriate way. It's also important to remember that while parents should be involved in these conversations, some may be reluctant or embarrassed, or may lack the sufficient scientific knowledge themselves.

And why is using the proper words so important? Let me give you two examples. First, I heard of a child abuse case where the abuser called his penis a "lollipop", as no one would think twice about a child talking about lollipops. Second, a father was apparently investigated by police for months after his daughter said "Daddy hurt my Noo Noo".

Noo Noo, it turned out, was her toy rabbit - which her father had put in the wash. 

This kind of confusion is exactly why using the right words, in an age-appropriate way, is vital. By stating that teachers don’t need to cover body parts or the science of fertilisation, the draft guidance makes an already confusing unclear area of the curriculum even more so. This will make the secondary school science teacher’s job so much harder, as they have to go back to the real basics (which we simply don’t have time to do in an already packed curriculum). 

As a secondary science teacher, I could tell the primary schools that covered reproduction well and those that didn’t. A scary amount of Year 7 children (aged 11-12) who I taught still had an idea that babies either came out of a woman’s anus or urethra (although obviously they didn’t know those words- “bum or where you wee from” being the only language they could use).

These children had no idea the vaginal entrance existed. Being so behind in the basics they simply couldn’t grasp the notion of a woman being fertile for a few days a month, compared with a man being fertile all the time, and other crucial knowledge about human reproduction. 

I find this incredibly scary in a time when puberty is happening earlier and earlier and we have issues with some girls getting pregnant under the age of consent quite simply because they don’t understand how their bodies work. 

When writing this post, I realised I had blogged about primary school sex education, SPUC and the Science National Curriculum almost exactly a year ago and I am disappointed that a whole year on I am still having to say the same things

However, instead of moving forward on the issue, it seems we are going backwards. In the last year we have had sex education teachers being likened to paedophiles (another one here). Popular Sex and Relationships education resources for primary schools are being amended or even pulled.

A vocal minority have the ear of the government, it seems, and it is time for the silent majority, who are supportive of school sex and relationships education, to start shouting back.

I would urge everyone, as an individual, to write to their MPs about this. Don’t let us take a big step backwards for science and a big step backwards for our young people and their entitlement to sex and relationships education. Please, won't someone think of the children?

Alice Hoyle, a sex and relationships advisory teacher, tweets @sexedukation

If we don't use the right words, confusion can reign. Photo: Getty Images

Alice Hoyle, a sex and relationships advisory teacher, tweets @sexedukation

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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war