As life science teacher in a public middle school, my sixth graders, relentlessly curious and aroused by a recent rush of adolescent hormones, would use our biology class as a forum to occasionally inquire about sex.

“How did brontosauruses mate?”
“Is sperm alive?”
“Where does the bone go when your boner goes away?”

Invariably, these questions would be out of context, and, at best, tangential to the topic we were discussing at the moment. Uncertain how to respond, I have periodically escaped the awkward event of providing answers by promising to explore sex later in the year when we reached the unit on the reproductive system. With no genuine intention of gathering the courage to discuss dinosaur penetration I was conflicted because I knew that my students’ questions were legitimate and deserved thoughtful responses.

When other teachers in our school found themselves in similar positions we came to the decision to outsource a sex education class. Our principal found financing and secured instructors from the local community health center to put together a four class curriculum in which our students would be able to learn about a variety of sex-oriented topics.

As a proctor, I had the opportunity to stand at a distance and witness my students engage in a series of lessons crafted to familiarize them with the rudiments of reproduction, safe sex and STDs among other things. For the first time, I watched my class of generally rambunctious boys sit attentively without external motivation. Interruptions of laughter or uneasy moans brought on by the discomfort of viewing graphic images of naked men and women with advanced stages of Chlamydia, gonorrhea, herpes or genital warts occasionally broke the silence, but for the most part, everyone seemed gripped by the chance to have sex demystified.

After the lesson on STDs the instructor opened up the discussion to questions. One of my more candid (and occasionally crass) students raised his hand.
“When a girl’s givin’ you head, can you get gingivitis?”

My initial reaction was to shoot him a disapproving look for trying to draw attention to himself and away from the instructor by generating a laugh. Then I realized that he was asking in earnest. As the other students waited patiently for the answer I waited somewhat impatiently for someone to recognize the absurdity of the question. The seasoned sex ed instructor delivered a serious and sincere response that I doubt I could have managed. And the students were disabused of the notion that gingivitis was an actual risk posed by oral sex.

At least two of my students have parents that have died or are currently dying of AIDS. At 25, I am not much younger than many of the parents of my 12 to 14-year old students. Sexually transmitted diseases and teen pregnancy are two very significant risks my students face when they become sexually active. And many of them are becoming increasingly sexually active.

Ignorance to the fact that risks to sexual activity even exist exacerbates the threat to my students’ lives and to the public health considerably. Though many states currently mandate sex education in their public schools, too often mandates do not translate into comprehensive sex education programs. Public schools do not commit to educating students about sex to the extent that they deserve. When they do it is often not early enough. Public schools need to make a commitment to public health by mandating comprehensive sex education curricula and seeing that those mandates are met at an early age.