The point I was making was valid, but I almost regret putting it that way, because simply mentioning sex in class gets them thinking about sex, rather than about writing. Case in point, right? It's such a powerful part of human existence. Those who treat sex casually are at war with the bulk of human societies and civilizations since the dawn of time.
(I suppose I just enjoy being unpredictable. How often does a high school teacher mention sex? It's nice to be absolutely sure now and then that your students are actually listening to you.)
Unfortunately I've only left myself two weeks to cover the material, so we'll have to move fairly quickly through some of the most controversial issues that will be raised this year. Homosexuality. Premarital sex. Age of consent. And once again, I think I will be able to hold my students' attention without too much difficulty.
Of course, the challenge of an ethics course is to let the students arrive at their own conclusions instead of being told what to believe. Not only is it the ethical way to go about instruction -- as opposed to taking advantage of your position of authority and trust to preach your personal viewpoints -- but it will also result in a far more lasting impact on the way the students think.
This is basically what distinguishes a teacher from a parental figure. Parents are keen to pass on their values and beliefs to their children. I, however, cannot adopt one hundred teenagers for 180 days, and repeat the process from scratch every year. For one, I'd probably kill myself. But the larger issue is the fact that they are not little mes, in any sense. Some might respect me and some might hate me, some will idolize me and others filled with disdain and scorn. Yet their background is not mine, their home life is not mine, their past is not mine, and although I can impact their future, it is not irrevocably tied to my own.
Sex and sexuality is sort of like religion and tradition. It's hard to break away from your roots. Students learn math, English, history and science at school, but when it comes to sex, they come with a set of presuppositions, sometimes hardened by specific theological premises. In the United States, anyway. In more secular countries -- Britain comes to mind -- would have many parents who tell their kids, "Think about it, and go with what makes sense." Americans are more dogmatic. And by extension, whereas in Britain a teacher could have a full curriculum about sex, that's not true in Oklahoma. It's safer to skirt the most important questions, lest an instructor call down some serious parental wrath.
Still, I don't deny that I have an agenda. My devious plan is to get them to reflect on their own assumptions, the traditions they've inherited, the biases the embrace as part of their subconscious endeavor to be accepted by their peers. Strong opinions in controversial matters are part of the adolescent experience and the search for one's personal identity. I get that. But they can't stay teenagers forever.
When I was a high school student, like them, I had strong opinions about many hot topics. Then I grew up. At university I experienced the process of letting go of my purported wisdom, and much to my dismay, I was wrong on pretty much everything. Is it egotistical to want my students to similarly reject the simplicity of their youth? Do I claim that a phase of intellectual rebellion is necessary to internalize one's values and thus ensure that one is not merely a creature of habit but an empowered individual?
I suppose so. And frankly, if a teacher can get a kid to rethink what she thinks she knows about sex, then pretty much everything is up for grabs.
