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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Love a good box set? Then you should watch the Snooker World Championships

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. 

People are lazy and people are impatient. This has always been so – just ask Moses or his rock – but as illustrated by kindly old Yahweh, in those days they could not simply answer those impulses and stroll on.

Nowadays, that is no longer so. Twitter, YouTube and listicles reflect a desire for complex and involved issues, expansive and nuanced sports – what we might term quality – to be condensed into easily digestible morsels for effort-free enjoyment.

There is, though, one notable exception to this trend: the box set. Pursuing a novelistic, literary sensibility, it credits its audience with the power of sentience and tells riveting stories slowly, unfolding things in whichever manner that it is best for them to unfold.

In the first episode of the first series of The Sopranos, we hear Tony demean his wife Carmela's irritation with him via the phrase “always with the drama”; in the seventh episode of the first series we see his mother do likewise to his father; and in the 21st and final episode of the sixth and final series, his son uses it on Carmela. It is precisely this richness and this care that makes The Sopranos not only the finest TV show ever made, but the finest artefact that contemporary society has to offer. It forces us to think, try and feel.

We have two principal methods of consuming art of this ilk - weekly episode, or week-long binge. The former allows for anticipation and contemplation, worthy pursuits both, but of an entirely different order to the immersion and obsession offered by the latter. Who, when watching the Wire, didn’t find themselves agreeing that trudat, it's time to reup the dishwasher salt, but we’ve run out, ain’t no thing. Losing yourself in another world is rare, likewise excitement at where your mind is going next.

In a sporting context, this can only be achieved via World Championship snooker. Because snooker is a simple, repetitive game, it is absorbing very quickly, its run of play faithfully reflected by the score.

But the Worlds are special. The first round is played over ten frames – as many as the final in the next most prestigious competition – and rather than the usual week, it lasts for 17 magical days, from morning until night. This bestows upon us the opportunity to, figuratively at least, put away our lives and concentrate. Of course, work and family still exist, but only in the context of the snooker and without anything like the same intensity. There is no joy on earth like watching the BBC’s shot of the championship compilation to discover that not only did you see most of them live, but that you have successfully predicted the shortlist.

It is true that people competing at anything provides compelling drama, emotion, pathos and bathos - the Olympics proves this every four years. But there is something uniquely nourishing about longform snooker, which is why it has sustained for decades without significant alteration.

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. Most frequently, snooker is grouped with darts as a non-athletic sport, instead testing fine motor skills and the ability to calculate angles, velocity and forthcoming shots. However, its tempo and depth is more similar to Test cricket – except snooker trusts so much in its magnificence that it refuses to compromise the values which underpin it.

Alfred Hitchcock once explained that if two people are talking and a bomb explodes without warning, it constitutes surprise; but if two people are talking and all the while a ticking bomb is visible under the table, it constitutes suspense. “In these conditions,” he said, “The same innocuous conversation becomes fascinating because the public is participating in the scene. The audience is longing to warn the characters on the screen: ‘You shouldn't be talking about such trivial matters. There is a bomb beneath you and it is about to explode!’”

Such is snooker. In more or less every break, there will at some point be at least one difficult shot, loss of position or bad contact – and there will always be pressure. Add to that the broken flow of things – time spent waiting for the balls to stop, time spent prowling around the table, time spent sizing up the table, time spent cleaning the white, time spent waiting for a turn – and the ability for things to go wrong is constantly in contemplation.

All the more so in Sheffield’s Crucible Theatre. This venue, in its 40th year of hosting the competition, is elemental to its success. Place is crucial to storytelling, and even the word “Crucible” – whether “a ceramic or metal container in which metals or other substances may be melted or subjected to very high temperatures,” “a situation of severe trial”, or Arthur Miller’s searing play – conjures images of destruction, injustice and nakedness. And the actual Crucible is perhaps the most atmospheric arena in sport - intimate, quiet, and home to a legendarily knowledgeable audience, able to calculate when a player has secured a frame simply by listening to commentary through an earpiece and applauding as soon as the information is communicated to them.

To temper the stress, snooker is also something incredibly comforting. This is partly rooted in its scheduling. Working day and late-night sport is illicit and conspiratorial, while its presence in revision season has entire cohorts committing to “just one more quick frame”, and “just one more quick spliff”. But most powerfully of all, world championship snooker triggers memory and nostalgia, a rare example of something that hasn’t changed, as captivating now as it was in childhood.

This wistfulness is complemented by sensory pleasure of the lushest order. The colours of both baize and balls are the brightest, most engaging iterations imaginable, while the click of cue on ball, the clunk of ball on ball and the clack of ball on pocket is deep and musical; omnipresent and predictable, they combine for a soundtrack that one might play to a baby in the womb, instead of whale music or Megadeth.

Repeating rhythms are also set by the commentators, former players of many years standing. As is natural with extended coverage of repetitive-action games, there are numerous phrases that recur:

“We all love these tactical frames, but the players are so good nowadays that one mistake and your opponent’s in, so here he is, looking to win the frame at one visit ... and it’s there, right in the heart of the pocket for frame and match! But where’s the cue ball going! it really is amazing what can happen in the game of snooker, especially when we’re down to this one-table situation.”

But as omniscient narrators, the same men also provide actual insight, alerting us to options and eventualities of which we would otherwise be ignorant. Snooker is a simple game but geometry and physics are complicated, so an expert eye is required to explain them intelligibly; it is done with a winning combination of levity and sincerity.

The only essential way in which snooker is different is the standard of play. The first round of this year’s draw featured eight past winners, only two of whom have made it to the last four, and there were three second-round games that were plausible finals.

And just as literary fiction is as much about character as plot, so too is snooker. Nothing makes you feel you know someone like studying them over years at moments of elation and desolation, pressure and release, punctuated by TV confessions of guilty pleasures, such as foot massages, and bucket list contents, such as naked bungee jumping.

It is probably true that there are not as many “characters” in the game as once there were, but there are just as many characters, all of whom are part of that tradition. And because players play throughout their adult life, able to establish their personalities, in unforgiving close-up, over a number of years, they need not be bombastic to tell compelling stories, growing and undergoing change in the same way as Dorothea Brooke or Paulie Gualtieri.

Of no one is this more evident that Ding Junhui, runner-up last year and current semi-finalist this; though he is only 30, we have been watching him almost half his life. In 2007, he reached the final of the Masters tournament, in which he faced Ronnie O’Sullivan, the most naturally talented player ever to pick up a cue – TMNTPETPUAC for short. The crowd were, to be charitable, being boisterous, and to be honest, being pricks, and at the same time, O’Sullivan was playing monumentally well. So at the mid-session interval, Ding left the arena in tears and O’Sullivan took his arm in consolation; then when Ding beat O’Sullivan in this year’s quarter-final, he rested his head on O’Sullivan’s shoulder and exchanged words of encouragement for words of respect. It was beautiful, it was particular, and it was snooker.

Currently, Ding trails Mark Selby, the “Jester from Leicester” – a lucky escape, considering other rhyming nouns - in their best of 33 encounter. Given a champion poised to move from defending to dominant, the likelihood is that Ding will remain the best player never to win the game’s biggest prize for another year.

Meanwhile, the other semi-final pits Barry Hawkins, a finalist in 2013, against John Higgins, an undisputed great and three-time champion. Higgins looks likely to progress, and though whoever wins through will be an outsider, both are eminently capable of taking the title. Which is to say that, this weekend, Planet Earth has no entertainment more thrilling, challenging and enriching than events at the Crucible Theatre, Sheffield.

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