Читать книгу Confessions of a School Nurse - Michael Alexander - Страница 20

When it comes to sex education, I am mostly enlisted to talk to the male students, which is probably good as I have a habit of saying the wrong thing. But sometimes I don’t have a choice …

‘You have to see them,’ insisted Sarah, the dorm parent of the senior girls’ dormitory. I turned to my colleague, Michaela.

‘Does it have to be tonight?’ Michaela asked. She wasn’t eager to talk to the girls either, it was Friday evening and we both had the night off. Sarah was adamant that her dorm desperately needed our input, she even used the term ‘emergency’, but I still wasn’t convinced.

I have lost count of the many ‘emergencies’ I have been in; some were real, some imagined, and some just plain ridiculous. I think interpretation of an emergency comes down to the various life experiences of the people involved.

My problem is that I don’t like saying ‘no’. In this case, I tried to come up with a semi-legitimate excuse. ‘We’ve been drinking,’ I said, indicating the half-empty bottle of red on the table. Sure, we had only had one glass each, but I was desperate for a polite way out. Still, Sarah insisted that the matter was urgent and could not wait.

‘What exactly do you want us to tell them?’ By asking this question I had basically admitted defeat, and Sarah sensed this too.

‘Sex,’ she said. ‘They need a crash course in sex.’

I choked on my wine while Michaela laughed.

I’ve never given an ‘emergency’ sex talk before. Exactly what was Sarah expecting the girls to do that night? And what could I say that would make any difference? Was I supposed to discourage them from doing it? Was that even allowed? Perhaps I’m just supposed to encourage them to ‘play safe’.

As a school nurse, sex education is just part of the job. It’s strange how people think that just because you’re a nurse, you’re qualified to talk about anything physical. There is a difference between being a nurse who communicates one-to-one with a patient, and actually teaching a class. But I usually get by. I worked in an STD clinic before, so I did have some ‘hands on’ experience.

‘Can’t this wait till Monday?’ Michaela asked. It could wait, but non-medical people often get worried about things that really aren’t urgent, and Sarah was convinced that this was the best time; in her defence, there had been a high number of ‘incidents’ this year.

These included:

 • A complaint from some locals living near the school about a boy getting blow jobs between morning classes, on a regular basis. The couple obviously thought the bushes behind the car park safe, but they forgot that they live on a slope, and that people living above them can see everything. The neighbours were able to give a very accurate description of the boy’s face. It also explained why Johan the Swede was always late but cheerful in classes.

 • A close call with a Hepatitis C epidemic. Fortunately this was a false alarm, but while we were waiting for the blood results we did have to track down all sexual contacts. The chain of connection showed that nearly every sexually active person in the school had a sexual link to everyone else.

 • A build-up of used condoms on the terrace outside the boys’ dormitory.

 • Three boys suspended for having spent the night in the girls’ dorm.

 • A hidden ‘sex-pad’, which was discovered in the attic of the school hall. It had been furnished with mattresses, candles, refreshments and several packets of condoms.

The frightening thing was that for every problem we knew about, there were bound to be two more we didn’t, so, with a sigh, Michaela and I agreed to do the talk together.

On our way out the door Michaela grabbed some condoms and told me to bring the bananas from her kitchen.

Our strategy was simple; Michaela would talk about sex from a woman’s perspective, and I’d agree with everything she said. Nothing should go wrong.

‘What’s he doing here?’ we were asked on arrival. The voice sounded American and belonged to a blonde lass in the front row.

‘Don’t complain, this should be interesting,’ replied her neighbour.

‘Do we get to practise on him?’ said another, and the room erupted in laughter.

My face turned red. What on earth was I doing? I had walked into the lion’s den and I had nothing to appease these seventeen- and eighteen-year-old women. I didn’t feel like an educator. If anything, I was sure I was the one about to get the education. ‘I can’t do this,’ I whispered to Michaela. She’d be fine doing this with Sarah, without me.

‘No bloody way. You’re not deserting me now,’ she whispered back.

I’ve faced some pretty hairy things during my time in the emergency room, but I’ve never felt as vulnerable as I did right then. The girls were giggling, chatting, even pointing. I resisted the urge to look down and make sure my fly was done up.

‘Right ladies, settle down,’ Sarah began. ‘We’ve got two special guests tonight who have kindly given up their time to talk to you this evening. Please make them feel welcome.’ There was a brief round of applause before we got to work.

Michaela and Sarah took two steps back, leaving me stranded.

‘Right, well, so … I hear that you need some educating about boys,’ I began.

‘We know all about boys,’ said the American blonde in the front, her manner smug, her eyes searching the crowd for support.

‘Give him a chance, Skylar,’ someone from the back responded. ‘I’ve never had a sex talk by a man before. Let’s hear what men think about girls.’

I wasn’t there to tell them what men think about girls, or was I? ‘You want me to tell you what guys think about?’ I asked. That was exactly what they wanted to know. This was an easy one to answer. But should I give the truth, or the watered-down version?

‘Men are simple creatures,’ I began, my mind suddenly blank. I paused and looked over at Michaela and Sarah, and they nodded at me to continue. They seemed as eager as the girls to hear what I had to say.

‘Men are simple creatures,’ I started again. ‘They only ever think about one thing, and will tell you anything to get it. They’ll tell lies, and they’ll even tell lies honestly believing that what they are saying is the truth.’

Skylar, the blonde in the front row, interrupted. ‘What do they want? What exactly is “it” you mean?’ She was enjoying every minute of this.

I suddenly felt shy saying the word ‘sex’ in front of them. It was irrational, but I feared my voice would crack, my face turn even more beetroot, or even giggle.

‘You know, they’ll say anything to get you to play …’ I was about to say ‘play around’ but that was too ambiguous. There was a long pause as I thought of a harmless way to say sex.

‘They’ll say anything to get you to play hide the sausage,’ I blurted.

Sarah’s mouth dropped, along with everyone else’s in the room, but I ploughed on.

‘Perhaps that was a sexist thing to say,’ I said, my tone apologetic. ‘I hear women these days are just as aggressive at pursuing men.’

‘He didn’t just say that.’ I overheard Sarah as she whispered in Michaela’s ear, but it was too late now.

‘Maybe I should tell the boys that you’ll say anything to get what you want. Perhaps I should be warning the boys to stay away from you lot,’ I said, deliberately making eye contact with Skylar. By this stage Michaela and Sarah were in an agony of laughter, along with the rest of the room. I wanted to hide, but I couldn’t stop.

While many of these girls were already sexually active, they weren’t adults. Just because they’d had oral sex or regular intercourse, they still had a lot to learn. Being able to physically do something has nothing to do with being mentally prepared, and especially nothing to do with being safe.

It doesn’t help that the school doesn’t want to deal with sex education, although that could be a good thing. When Michaela had suggested that we stock some condoms in the health centre, the headmaster had initially said ‘Why? They’re not having sex.’ This may sound unbelievable, but sometimes it’s easier to deny there is an issue, because then they don’t have to deal with it.

Other than what students learn in biology class, there is no plan, no policy or goal when it comes to educating them about the birds and the bees. It’s easier to leave it to the nurses, because – apparently – we know best!

‘Who’s had herpes before?’ I asked the girls. No one was really sure. I asked if any of them had had a cold sore, and most of them raised their hand. ‘Well don’t kiss your boyfriend down there if you’ve got one, he won’t forgive you. He’ll have it for life.’ There were gasps of disbelief. ‘You’re telling me you didn’t know that? It works both ways, except it’s usually worse for the women if they get it down there. So watch out.’

Due to the previous Hepatitis C scare, most the senior students knew about that, as well as Hepatitis A and B.

I asked them about syphilis, warts, HIV, gonorrhoea; they knew nothing, and they began to realise that they knew nothing. When I told them that we were down to the last antibiotic to treat gonorrhoea, and that pretty soon we’d have nothing to treat it, they were ready to listen. Even Skylar managed to keep her mouth shut.

I told them about my experiences working at a London STD clinic. The biggest lesson I learned from that place was not to judge anyone by appearances. In the waiting room you’d see the most sophisticated, beautifully dressed men and women, sitting next to someone more used to sleeping on the street, and they usually had something in common – an STD.

I was surprised when one young teen said that we didn’t need to worry about STDs so much in our village, because we lived in the Alps. She seemed to think that our location was some protection from STDs. I soon explained how wrong she was; ski resorts have a disproportionate number of STD cases. ‘And besides, I see cases from school every year with STDs.’ There were horrified gasps alongside demands to know who they were.

Another girl thought that oral and anal sex were safe alternatives to regular sex.

‘Hands up if you think you can catch a disease from oral sex.’ Only half the girls raised their hands.

‘A friend told me …’ began another. It’s always a friend, or a friend of a friend, but it doesn’t matter. I listened. This particular friend thought that anal sex meant the person was still a virgin. I’d never thought about it before, but I guess technically you could say that. ‘But bugs can spread particularly easily through anal sex,’ I explained. ‘It’s why we often give people their medicine that way.’

With my credentials established, the girls wanted to know more. They asked a whole range of questions:

 • How do you know when it’s right?

 • My friend has a boyfriend who is going to dump her if she doesn’t ‘do it’. Should she?

 • Do condoms always stop disease?

 • Can you cure genital warts?

 • Can you get cancer?

 • Is it always painful?

 • What’s a normal size? (Penis size, that is.)

 • Is anal sex safe?

 • What is dogging?

 • What is chariot racing? (I had to look this up on Google, although I advise you not to.)

Their appetite was insatiable, but finally we were finished, and we let the girls go, free to pursue or be pursued. Sarah came over and thanked us. She said that in her time as a dorm parent she’d never seen such an ‘enthusiastic’ response to a sex talk. I just hoped that I still had a job come Monday morning.

When Monday finally came around, instead of angry phone calls or vicious emails, I was approached by a group of senior boys. They asked when their sex talk was. They said they’d heard from the girls that it was the best sex education talk ever. I think they felt left out of all the fun.

As politically incorrect and potentially offensive as my tactics may sound, over the years that I’ve been a school nurse, I’ve discovered humour nearly always helps.

A lot of students come to me now, especially after I give a group lesson, to speak privately. It’s during these talks that I realise how little they truly know and how important it is that we continue to communicate.