— The questions kids ask show the changing reality of sex education

If children and teenagers go looking for answers to their awkward questions on Google, what exactly will they find?

James* was in Year 3 when he walked up to his teacher and asked her what a 69 was.

He had heard the number being joked about by other students and wanted to know what on earth they were talking about.

Not satisfied with the teacher’s response, he tried another teacher, and then another, who promptly told him to stop asking. A phone call from the school to his mother set in motion a conversation that’s still ongoing to this day.

Now 11 years old and in Year 5 at an inner-Sydney public school, James matter-of-factly describes his peers talking about “Porn Hub”, performatively “moaning” in front of teachers, or looking up sexually explicit anime, known as “hentai”, at sleepovers.

“Most kids just say stuff because they’ve heard other kids say stuff,” he says, speaking with the permission of his parents.

“But the other kids know what they’re doing … like telling younger kids how to get on to certain websites, telling kids how to turn off Google Safe Search so their parents or anyone can’t track them.”

Rowena Thomas, a sex and relationships educator who runs workshops in primary schools across New South Wales, is well acquainted with kids’ curly questions. You can see some of the ones she’s asked throughout this article.

A white post it note that reads, in handwriting: "Should I be scared if I have seen porn" next to a doodle of a scared face.

That curiosity is nothing new, but widespread access to the internet and the terabytes of graphic and often violent pornography it hosts has given rise to a fresh set of concerns: if children and teenagers are left to go looking for answers to their awkward questions on Google, what exactly will they find?

Last month, this harsh reality was at the heart of a heated debate over a brightly-coloured sexual education book that offers frank explanations of how sex works, the myths and taboos surrounding it, masturbation, and consent, alongside cartoon drawings of body parts.

Vocal critics of Welcome To Sex, written by broadcaster Yumi Stynes and former Dolly Doctor Melissa Kang, argued the book was inappropriate for children (the book is marketed to teens between 12 and 15), leading to it being pulled from Big W shelves.

The book cover of Welcome to Sex. — Welcome to Sex, by Dr Melissa Kang and Yumi Stynes, was removed from Big W shelves following backlash.

Others hit back that books like Welcome to Sex are a crucial counter to harmful content readily available online. The furore was raised in a senate inquiry into consent laws, where author and advocate Jess Hill said it showed “just how little adults know about the sex lives and sex education of young people”.

At the heart of the debate were simple questions, complicated by the complicated emotions that so often inform views on sex. When, where and from who should young people access information about sex, and perhaps more importantly, how does this measure up to the reality of what’s already happening?

“We need to be talking about the dangers of pornography, just like we talk about the dangers of swimming in a rip or riding a bike without a helmet,” Ms Thomas says.

“Parents aren’t talking about it because they don’t think that their nice child would watch pornography — very nice kids watch pornography because they’re curious.”

How young people are learning about sex

Ms Thomas has been teaching sex and relationship education for 30 years and over that time, she says, children have become “much more inquisitive, much more open, and much more honest”.

Her anonymous question box has given thousands of students a place to direct the queries that they’re too embarrassed to ask anyone else. Scribbled on colourful notes and peppered with misspelt words, they provide a snapshot into what students already know, and crucially, what they don’t.

A woman with dark hair and red glasses points to a projection behind her that says SEX in giant letters. — Rowena Thomas has been teaching sex and relationships education for 30 years.

Some of the questions are childishly naive (“Can sperm drown?”), others are imbued with genuine concern (“Is it normal to have public hair at the age of 10?”), but the question she gets the most usually comes from a place of intense curiosity: “What does the number 69 mean?”

“I hear it nearly every day,” Ms Thomas says. “So parents think that immediately they have to go into talking about oral sex, but that’s not what the kids are asking. The kids are just curious, the number 69, what on earth does it mean?”

Sometimes they’ve heard it in the playground, like James, or from an older sibling. But it’s the information source in kids’ pockets that she’s most worried about. Just under half of all Australian children between the ages of six and 13 use a mobile phone, and one in three have their own phone, according to data collected by the Australian Communications and Media Authority in 2020.

While parental controls are available to limit what apps and websites young people can access, they aren’t fail-safe. Not only are increasingly tech-literate young people adept at bypassing them, it just takes one student with lenient controls for information to spread through school grounds.

“Not every kid is watching porn, but a couple of kids in the class are watching porn, you can tell in nearly every class,” Ms Thomas says. “They get shown stuff, they get air-dropped pictures, they’re maybe at a friend’s house … and they want to fit in.”

A peach post-it note hat reads, in messy handwriting: "Why is there different type of sex."

Most children see pornography long before they ever have sex, and it only takes a few taps to go from a Google search to a plethora of hardcore videos depicting unrealistic and harmful sexual encounters. “How sad is that? Because that’s not what sex should be like,” Ms Thomas says. “As soon as a child gets access to the internet, we should be saying to them: ‘If you see a naked picture online, I would be so proud of you if you tell me’.”

Most of the time Ms Thomas is teaching Year 4 to Year 6 students, which means she has to find age-appropriate ways to introduce tricky topics. Her sessions cover a lot of ground, from bodies and puberty, to sexual health, and staying safe online, which includes pornography (though she calls it “unsafe or inappropriate pictures”). Sometimes she delivers pared-back workshops on bodily safety and consent to kindergarteners.

With younger children, for example, she might introduce bodily boundaries in the context of hugging or tickling. With older students, there’s more of a focus on building healthy relationships.

“Age appropriate is a very difficult thing to talk about because it really does depend on your kid,” Ms Thomas says. “But every child is definitely mature enough to be talking about this stuff, in an age-appropriate way, according to where you think your child is at.”

She is big on caregivers being “askable adults”, something she focuses on when she runs workshops for parents. If a child comes forward with a question or story, no matter how shocking or awkward, she encourages adults to treat it as a positive teaching moment — respond calmly, fake it if you have to, and validate their feelings, rather than shutting down the conversation.

A white piece of paper with a handwritten question that reads: "What happens in your body that makes you have a bonur?"

It’s an approach James’ mother, Lisa*, has adopted. The pair have an open dialogue when it comes to sex, something she felt she didn’t have a choice in once she realised what her son was being exposed to. While James is quick to fill her in on what goes on away from adult eyes, letting her know when one of his peers has been looking up “weird” websites, she’s aware that not all parents are as clued in.

“I do worry that there’s a disconnect between what people think kids are doing these days and what kids are doing, and that divide is only going to get larger if we don’t start seeing it for what it is,” Lisa says. “If he was in Year 4 when he first heard moaning [in the playground], there would be kids in kindergarten hearing it now, because it’s not going away.”

Lisa believes her son’s school has a porn problem, one that neither teachers, principals, nor parents know how to deal with despite her attempts to raise it. “They’re sticking their heads in the sand,” she says. “It’s not that they don’t know, it’s that they don’t want to know.”

The talk no one wants to have

Jennifer Power, an associate professor at La Trobe University’s Australian Centre in Sex, Health and Society, says it’s not surprising that parents shy away from having these conversations with their children. “They’re not sure what’s age-appropriate, or when to raise these issues, let alone how to do it,” she says. “They’re not comfortable. The kids are uncomfortable. No one wants to have that conversation, and they’re worried they’re going to get it all wrong.”

Just because young people aren’t opening up to their parents about sex, doesn’t mean they’re not engaging in it. A 2021 survey run by La Trobe University and funded by the Department of Health found the average age for first viewing pornography was 13.6, and the average age for first experience of oral, vaginal and anal sex was 15. More than half of Year 11 and Year 12 students said they had sexual experience or were currently sexually active.

A blue post-it note that reads, in messy handwriting: "Is sperm consciously released or is it just randomly released?"

The survey included the responses of almost 8,000 Year 11 and 12 students, from a range of different backgrounds and schools, however, it only recruited respondents through social media advertising, meaning it’s possible the results skewed to reflect students who were sexually aware or comfortable discussing the topic.

Despite half of the respondents stating they had sexual experience, only 25 per cent of the total cohort felt their most recent relationship and sexual education class at school was “very or extremely relevant to them”.

“When we asked people to explain that … the thing that really stood out was people saying they thought they would learn more about sex,” Dr Power says. “It’s not tapping into what young people are looking to learn about and I suspect young people probably go online to try and find that stuff out.”

The national curriculum — which is used in all states and territories except Western Australia, Victoria and New South Wales, which have their own syllabus informed by the national curriculum — includes broad mandatory topics, like reproduction and sexual health, contraception, and relationship and dating safety. What these lessons actually look like, however, is much more open to interpretation and varies from school to school, teacher to teacher.

Curtin University sexologist Jacqueline Hendriks believes this lack of detail is a problem. As a comparison, she points to the United Kingdom’s curriculum which states in detail what students are expected to learn, such as: “facts about the full range of contraceptive choices” and “how to recognise the characteristics and positive aspects of healthy one-to-one intimate relationships”.

Teachers are often also not specifically trained in delivering sex education, she says, which can lead them to default to topics and lessons they are familiar with. “Because they’ve not been trained in sexuality education, they’ve not seen it in practice, they’re not comfortable doing it,” she says.

A yellow post-it note that reads, in messy handwriting: "What is discharge and what does it look like?"

The lack of training, along with time constraints, is why schools frequently opt to bring in outside educators or speakers to cover the material. Often this takes the form of a one-off workshop or lecture, something Dr Hendriks says is counter to the best-practice approach of building up lessons over time.

“It’s much easier to get a guest speaker in, chuck every kid in an auditorium and lecture to them for an hour, so they [the school] can tick the box,” she says. “That can sometimes be a great starting point, but you want a lot of little lessons over time … and if it’s done well, it actually does take time, and schools don’t necessarily have that luxury.”

Overall, looking internationally, Dr Hendriks says Australia is about middle-of-the-road when it comes to the delivery of quality sex education but adds that any efforts at improvement are an uphill battle. “We are constantly fighting to be able to deliver really comprehensive and contemporary programs, there’s always push-back,” she says. “It’s always two steps forward, one step back.”

That’s partly because some parents and politicians would prefer schools steer clear of sex altogether. Just last month, the Queensland Liberal National Party voted against sexual consent being taught in schools at their annual state conference, with members arguing that it should be the responsibility of parents.

How sex ed is changing

Dr Hendriks started working in sex education in the ’90s, shortly after the HIV epidemic had spurred educators into teaching the topic in schools for the first time. The lessons were largely focused on sexually-transmitted disease, and weaponised fear to stop young people from becoming sexually active, “but at least we were able to talk about it in schools”, she says.

In the decades since, what constitutes sex ed — officially called sex and relationships education or RSE — has expanded far beyond the tokenistic demonstration of how to put a condom on a banana.

A pink post-it note that reads, in messy handwriting: "How do I teach myself how to love myself?"

There have been moves to increase representation of diverse sexualities and gender, and steps to educate young people about sexual violence. Most recently the national curriculum was updated to explicitly include lessons on consent, following a petition by advocate Chanel Contos calling for it to be made compulsory.

While Dr Hendriks says these are positive steps, she’s worried the focus on sexual violence signals a return to the fear-based rhetoric of the past. “It’s still about violence prevention, as opposed to, let’s look at it from a positive viewpoint,” she says, “like you’re growing up and your body is changing and you may start interacting with other people in a sexual way … here’s how you can do that in a really fun, enjoyable, healthy and respectful way.”

Ms Thomas is more optimistic about where things are heading. “When I work at night with parents and kids, I ask ‘how has this education changed?’ and they say, ‘we’re talking about it more’,” she says. “That’s my whole thing: open, shame-free, honest, lifelong conversations that change as your child gets older. It’s not easy, but it’s awesome because it’s all about connecting with your child.”

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