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Sex education, gender and sexualised behaviour in the primary
school: a qualitative analysis of parent, teacher and pupil
perspectives
Tracey Wire
PhD
October 2019
Keele University
i
Abstract
This thesis compares teachers’ and parents’ views concerning content and
delivery of KS1 Sex and Relationships Education with children’s lived experiences
and understanding of gender and sexuality. Data was gathered through 18 focus
group interviews drawn from a Midlands primary school. These revealed the
hegemonic nature of heterosexuality within the primary school and family. Parents’
expectations of their own children were underpinned by assumptions of
heterosexuality and innocence. Likewise, teachers assumed heterosexuality but
drew more upon a professional discourse of appropriate pedagogy and maturity.
Most adult participants highlighted the need to educate children for the world they
encounter and were keen to promote tolerance and understanding of the assumed
Other. What became evident among the adults was a lack of confidence in their
own abilities as educators and a lack of certainty about what might be appropriate.
Children’s expressions of gender and sexuality were firmly rooted within a largely
stereotypical binary framework, as were their articulated “romantic” aspirations.
Children’s attachment to traditional views about female and male were evident in
some of the ways they policed gender and sexual identities and in discussions
that covered play, future employment and children’s girlfriend/boyfriend
relationships (involvement in which enhanced children’s status among their peers
but were ignored or dismissed by parents).
Despite moves to make Relationships Education statutory, this remains a
sensitive subject, treated uniquely within the curriculum. I propose that it should
be rooted in children’s prior knowledge and understanding of the world and
themselves rather than on that assumed or hoped for by adults. Adults, I argue,
must talk to and observe children, acknowledging that their lives carry authentic
meaning. They need to educate real rather than imagined children. Teachers
should critically examine how school structures affect children’s active
construction of their gender and sexual identities and how they view others.
i
ii
Table of Contents
Abstract ............................................................................................................................ i
Table of Contents .......................................................................................................... iii
Acknowledgements ...................................................................................................... vii
Chapter 1: Introduction .................................................................................................. 1
1.1 Personal motivations for this qualitative study ...................................................1
1.2 Research context: the public debate .....................................................................3
1.3 Research context: The curriculum .........................................................................5
1.4 Purpose of this qualitative study ......................................................................... 10
1.5 Chronology .............................................................................................................. 13
1.6 Conclusion and structure ...................................................................................... 14
Chapter 2: Literature Review ....................................................................................... 19
2.1 Introduction ............................................................................................................. 19
2.2 Gender identities and theory ................................................................................ 20
2.3 Growing up too soon: the public and political discourse of
commercialisation and sexualisation ........................................................................ 35
2.4 The vulnerable child and the paranoid parent ................................................... 43
2.5 A question of innocence: sexuality and gender identity .................................. 47
2.6 Children at play ....................................................................................................... 52
2.7 The sex education debate ..................................................................................... 58
2.8 Conclusion ............................................................................................................... 65
Chapter 3: Research Design ....................................................................................... 67
3.1 Introduction ............................................................................................................. 67
3.2 Feminist poststructuralism ................................................................................... 69
3.3 The setting ............................................................................................................... 70
3.4 My role as a teacher-researcher in the research ............................................... 72
3.5 Research with children .......................................................................................... 77
3.6 Ethical issues .......................................................................................................... 80
3.7 Focus group methodology .................................................................................... 89
3.8 Teacher focus groups ............................................................................................ 92
3.9 Parent focus groups ............................................................................................... 95
3.10 Children’s focus groups ...................................................................................... 98
3.10 Conducting the focus group interviews and analysis .................................. 101
3.11 Conclusion ........................................................................................................... 104
Chapter 4: Teachers’ views on teaching about sex and relationships ................. 105
iii
4.1 Introduction ........................................................................................................... 105
4.2 Teachers’ prior experiences and attitudes to teaching SRE ......................... 107
4.3 Biology and the rejection of pleasure ............................................................... 121
4.4 Educating children for future success: teenage pregnancy and class ....... 135
4.5 What makes a family?: teachers’ views on teaching about diversity .......... 145
4.6 The heterosexual classroom ............................................................................... 155
4.7 ‘It’s so gay’: promoting diversity and tackling homophobia ......................... 163
4.8 Professional considerations of gender and maturity ..................................... 170
4.9 Conclusion ............................................................................................................. 174
Chapter 5: Parents’ views about sex and relationships education for young
children........................................................................................................................ 177
5.1 Introduction ........................................................................................................... 177
5.2 Do parents want school-based SRE for their children? ................................. 179
5.3 Too much too young?: Parents’ attachment to the discourse of childhood
innocence ..................................................................................................................... 185
5.4 Relationships and Families: experiences and values ..................................... 199
5.5 Heteronormativity and gender stereotypes ...................................................... 207
5.6 Biology ................................................................................................................... 213
5.7 Parents’ experience and confidence ................................................................. 222
5.8 A partnership approach and confidence in teachers ...................................... 228
5.9 Conclusion ............................................................................................................. 233
Chapter 6: The world of the children ........................................................................ 236
6.1 Introduction ........................................................................................................... 236
6.2 What is a family?: Children’s experiences and understandings .................. 238
6.3 What’s a girl? What’s a boy?: How children identify and negotiate gender
difference...................................................................................................................... 248
6.4 Policing the playground....................................................................................... 262
6.5 Building a heterosexual identity: girlfriends and boyfriends ........................ 280
6.4.1 Rihanna, Nick and Alan ................................................................................................... 285
6.4.2 Mick and Karen .................................................................................................................. 289
6.6 Conclusion ............................................................................................................. 294
Chapter 7: Discussion ............................................................................................... 297
7.1 Introduction ........................................................................................................... 297
7.2 Comfort and confidence ...................................................................................... 298
7.3 Adults’ draw upon the discourses of maturity and innocence ..................... 304
7.4 Stable loving families ........................................................................................... 316
7.5 (Heterosexual) relationships ............................................................................... 324
7.6 Gender stereotypes and compulsory heterosexuality.................................... 330
iv
7.7 Protecting childhood ............................................................................................ 336
7.8 Conclusion ............................................................................................................. 344
Chapter 8: Conclusion ............................................................................................... 347
8.1 Introduction ........................................................................................................... 347
8.2 Findings .................................................................................................................. 350
8.2.1 Young children’s gender and sexual identities are constructed within the
heterosexual matrix.................................................................................................................... 350
8.2.2 Children engage and invest in ‘romantic’ relationships ......................................... 352
8.2.3 Parents tenaciously cling to the discourse of innocence and heterosexuality in
relation to their own children ................................................................................................... 354
8.2.4 Teachers see children as lacking maturity rather than as innocents ................. 356
8.2.5 Parents and teachers share attitudes about the purpose and teaching of SRE357
8.3 Impact on the school ............................................................................................ 359
8.4 Implications for policy and practice .................................................................. 361
References .................................................................................................................. 366
Appendices ................................................................................................................. 434
Appendix 1: Transcript key ....................................................................................... 434
Appendix 2: Ethics Approval Letter ......................................................................... 435
Appendix 3: Letter to the Headteacher and Governors ........................................ 436
Appendix 4: Initial Letter to Parents / Carers ......................................................... 438
Appendix 5: Parents’ Information Sheet ................................................................. 439
Appendix 6: Teachers’ Information Sheet ............................................................... 442
Appendix 7: Teachers and Parents’ Consent Forms ............................................ 445
Appendix 8: Information Sheet for Parents of Child Participants ....................... 447
Appendix 9: Consent form for parents of child participants ............................... 450
Appendix 10: Children’s Information Sheet and Consent Form .......................... 452
Appendix 11: Focus group activities and composition ........................................ 453
Appendices 12a-12o: Children’s Drawings ............................................................. 454
v
vi
Acknowledgements
First, I would like to thank the children, parents and teachers at Brookbank
Community Primary School. Without their willingness to share their thoughts and
experiences I would not have been able to undertake this project.
I would also thank my supervisor, Professor Farzana Shain, for her advice and
assistance over a number of years.
I am grateful for the support of wonderful colleagues at the University of
Gloucestershire. Special thanks go to Barbara Brown, Rachel Eperjesi, Colin
Forster, John Hockey, Jude Penny, Adeela Shaafi and Kate Thomson for their
encouraging words and help along the way.
I should apologise to family and friends for my absence on so many occasions
and thank them for their patience. Above all, thanks to my marvellous husband,
Kevin, who has always believed in me and spurred me on when I’ve wanted to
stop. I couldn’t have done it without you.
vii
viii
Chapter 1: Introduction
1.1 Personal motivations for this qualitative study
In 2007 I was working as a supply teacher at a school on the outskirts of a large
northern city. I had only been teaching the class for a few weeks when a parent
came to complain about the behaviour of some of the boys. Extremely upset, she
explained that the previous day a small group of boys had chased her daughter
across the playing field trying to kiss her and shouting that they were going to
‘shag’ her. The children involved were in a Year 1 class and all were five or six
years old.
In my experience as a primary school teacher, this was just one among a number
of similar incidents involving Key Stage (KS) 1 children. On one occasion, a dinner
supervisor had caught a girl undressing for one of the boys behind an undercover
area in the playground. When questioned, the girl explained that they were
essentially role playing what she had seen her mother (a sex worker) do with her
‘friends’. In one class, a small group of the boys would surreptitiously grope the
girls when they sat on the carpet during lessons. The headteacher and deputy
headteacher (both men) spoke to the children. They explained to the boys that
they should not act in this way as it was upsetting for the girls. The girls were told
they should speak-up straight away if it happened again: it was the girls’
responsibility to regulate the boys’ behaviour.
Repeatedly, parents were called in to discuss their children’s behaviour. They
were told about these incidents and asked to explain to their children that they
1
needed to ‘keep their hands to themselves’. These types of conversations elicited
responses that ranged from dismissive, to ashamed, to aggressive. The boys
continued to harass the girls and nobody seemed to know what to do about it.
In these situations, teachers proposed a number of possible causes for the
children’s sexualised behaviour. Often, they explained it by referring to children’s
home experiences: what they saw their parents or siblings do, or what the children
had seen on television. In one case, a boy in the class was in foster care, having
been removed from his family to protect him and his sister from sexual abuse.
Some of the parents blamed the fostered boy for encouraging their sons to fondle
the girls, even though he was never one of the children identified as being involved
in these incidents. He was targeted as having led their innocent boys astray.
Some boys gained an advantage through unwanted touching and chasing. They
exerted control over the girls and marginalised those boys who were not part of
their small group, who they dared to join them in their activities. It was increasingly
the case that these boys gained status and control by performing in a particular
way that included sexual harassment of the girls, gaining negative attention from
teaching staff and taunting boys who did not join them in their activities.
These episodes piqued my interest and I began to consider the significance of
these behaviours in terms of the sexual and gendered identities of the children I
was teaching and what these actions meant in terms of gendered power relations.
I also began to reflect upon other patterns that had emerged in my interactions
with children, staff, parents and carers. For instance, in my role as a class teacher,
2
parents have frequently complained to me that their little girls (for it was almost
always the girls) were growing up too fast, knew ‘too much’ and were missing out
on their childhoods. In my experience, parents of boys rarely made such
statements. Parents engaged by teachers about their son’s disruptive behaviour,
lack of academic focus, obsession with football and harassment of girls would
often respond with platitudes about ‘boys being boys’. While girls’ knowingness
was a threat to their innocence, to their very legitimacy as a girl child, this was all
just part of being a heterosexual boy. These experiences and interests ultimately
led me to undertake this research project at Brookbank Community Primary
School (BCP) in the Midlands.
1.2 Research context: the public debate
This research began at a time of heightened public debate regarding the effects
on children of sexualisation and commercialisation (Bailey 2011; Byron 2008;
2010, Crewe Guardian 2011; Department for Education and Employment (DfEE)
2000, 2006, 2010; Papadopoulos 2010; Pearse 2011; Ross 2010; Wilson 2012;
Wintour 2010). The vilification of those who directed their marketing of sexualised
images and goods at children came from both feminist and conservative
perspectives (e.g. Bailey 2011; Buckingham 2011; Rush and LaNauze 2006). In
addition, parent-led online campaigns were mounted to combat the influence of
marketing on small children (particularly girls). For example, in 2008 the
campaigning organization Pinkstinks was formed, seeking to improve girls’ selfesteem, and ‘to challenge the ‘culture of pink’ which values beauty over brains’
(Pinkstinks 2011). Similarly, Mumsnet launched its campaign ‘Let Girls Be Girls’
in early 2010 (Mumsnet n.d.). These websites admonished retailers for their
3
promotion of gender-stereotyped clothes and toys, “sexualised” clothing marketed
to young girls and the placing of “lads’ mags” where they were easily accessible
to children. These concerns were also picked up by the media with, for example,
investigations into the sale of “inappropriate clothing” by high street retailers
regularly appearing in newspapers (Crewe Guardian 2011; Evening Standard
2010; Williams 2010).
In February 2010, the Conservative Leader of the Opposition, David Cameron,
told the BBC: ‘It's time for action. As parents we all worry about our children
growing up too fast and missing out on their childhood’ (BBC 2010: para. 8). With
the previous Labour government having already commissioned reviews into the
impact of technology on children’s wellbeing (Byron 2008, 2010) and the
sexualisation of young people (Papadopoulos 2010), in December 2010
Cameron’s recently formed Coalition Government announced an independent
review into the sexualisation of childhood to be chaired by Reg Bailey of the
Christian charity the Mothers’ Union. Bailey reported in July of the following year
(Bailey 2011; Wintour 2010). As discussed in section 2.3, throughout this public
debate, definitions of sexualisation were vague, contradictory and sometimes
absent altogether.
While these concerns persisted in the public consciousness, for policy makers the
focus shifted to one of child sexual exploitation and lack of institutional
effectiveness in child protection (Burford 2017; Burke 2016; Preuss 2017; Tighe
2017). This shift initially arose out of child sexual exploitation scandals in
Rotherham and Greater Manchester (Coffey 2014; HM Government 2015; Jay
4
2014; Office for Standards in Education (Ofsted) 2014; The Office of the Children’s
Commissioner 2015).
Both the sexualisation and sexual exploitation narratives write children (most often
girls) as innocent victims at the mercy of a treacherous adult world. Both highlight
the need to protect children against predators, be they commercial or physical. It
is only more recently that it has been more widely acknowledged that children are
often both victims and perpetrators of sexual harassment and violence (e.g.
Bradlow at al 2017, Falconer 2018; House of Commons Women and Equalities
Committee 2016, Ringrose et al 2012, TES Reporter 2017). Within the context of
this study, the discourse of childhood innocence can be identified as having a
powerful impact on the views of parents regarding SRE and what they considered
to be “appropriate” knowledge.
1.3 Research context: The curriculum
In 2000, the UK government published its statutory Sex and Relationship
Education Guidance (DfEE 2000). This guidance, applicable to schools in
England, was formulated at a time when the main concerns related to SRE were
sexual health and teenage pregnancy (Archard 1998, 2000; BBC News 1999;
Carabine 2007). By 2012, when qualitative data for this study was produced, this
guidance was outdated due to technological developments, changes in social
expectations, the passage of new laws (especially with the Civil Partnership Act
in 2004), and the introduction of the revised National Curriculum in England
(Department for Education (DfE) 2013) in 2014.
5
In its early passages, the document, which applied to teaching and learning
through to the end of KS4 (when young people are 16 years old), established
some key principles underpinning the SRE curriculum:
It is lifelong learning about physical, moral and emotional
development. It is about the understanding of the importance of
marriage for family life, stable and loving relationships, respect,
love and care. It is also about the teaching of sex, sexuality, and
sexual health. It is not about the promotion of sexual orientation
or sexual activity – this would be inappropriate teaching.
(DfEE 2000: 5)
It also identified ‘three main elements’: ‘attitudes and values’, ‘personal and social
skills’, and ‘knowledge and understanding’ (DfEE 2000:5). In primary schools, the
expectation was that SRE should be regarded as part of non-statutory Personal
Social and Health Education (PSHE), and be taught in conjunction with the
compulsory science curriculum (DfEE 1999). In terms of knowledge, concepts and
skills, the guidance was brief and ill-defined. SRE was to contribute to PSHE and
Citizenship provision ‘by ensuring that all children:
● develop confidence in talking, listening and thinking about feelings and
relationships
● are able to name parts of the body and how their bodies work
● can protect themselves and ask for help and support; and
● are prepared for puberty’ (DfEE 2000: 19).
6
Unlike the statutory subjects that made up the 1999 National Curriculum, the
guidance did not set out Key Stage expectations in terms of attainment targets or
provide detailed guidance on what should be taught in terms of knowledge, skills
and understanding. While my colleagues in school usually welcomed a good
degree of latitude in what and how they taught, they found the lack of firm steering
in SRE unnerving (Association of Teachers and Lecturers (ATL) 2013, ASE 2011).
Furthermore, there was no requirement to take account of pre-existing knowledge
or to address children’s own sexual behaviour.
PSHE, and within that, SRE occupied a unique place within the primary
curriculum. While not compulsory, the 2000 non-statutory Framework for PSHE
was ‘linked directly to the aims of the curriculum, arguing that schools could not
achieve these aims without PSHE’ (QCA 2000, cited in Macdonald 2009: 10).
Furthermore, unlike other subjects, the SRE guidance document required that the
curriculum be ‘developed in consultation with parents and the wider community’
and gave parents the right to remove children from SRE lessons (DfEE 2000: 13).
Over time, the 2000 non-statutory guidance did undergo some minor updates
(Brook, The PSHE Association and The Sex Education Forum (SEF) 2014) but
there has been considerable vacillation on the part of successive administrations
about the content and status of SRE, with repeated failed moves to make some
form of PSHE and SRE compulsory (DfEE 2000, Long 2015, Macdonald 2009,
Westminster Education Forum 2018). Finally, in March 2017, Education Secretary
Justine Greening announced that the government had tabled amendments to the
7
Children and Social Work Bill that would make Relationships and Sex Education
(RSE) in secondary schools and Relationships Education in primary schools
compulsory (DfE and Greening 2017). This new legislation would apply not only
to maintained schools, but academies, independent and free schools. The aim
was for the new statutory curriculum to come into effect in September 2019.
Following the success of the amendment, the government embarked on a
consultation process to explore views on the topics that should be covered and
how the guidance should be updated. This included ‘round-table sessions with
national and local groups representing interested parties such as teachers and
other education professionals, subject specialists, parents and religious bodies,
as well as engaging with parliamentarians’ (DfE 2017c: 3). In addition, two online
‘calls for evidence’ were announced, firstly, from:
● Parents and carers
● School and college staff (including governors)
● Voluntary and community organisations
● Other educational professionals
● Any other interested organisations and individuals
(DfE 2017c: p.3)
The second call for evidence was from ‘young people’ (people younger than 19
years but older than 16, unless they had parental permission to participate) (DfE
2017d). This asked young people to reflect upon their own SRE experiences, to
identify what was useful and what they would like to have learned more about.
8
Despite the deadline of September 2019 to commence the new programmes of
study, the findings from the consultation process were not released until 19th July
2018 (DfE 2018a), when a further consultation was announced in relation to new
draft statutory guidance. In practice, this meant that the proposed introduction of
the new compulsory curriculum was moved to September 2020 (DfE 2018b;
Relationships Education, Relationships and Sex Education and Health Education
Regulations 2019). For primary schools, the new draft statutory guidance (which
replaces the 2000 SRE Guidance document) for Relationships Education
identifies five themes for subject content:
● Families and people who care for me
● Caring friendships
● Respectful relationships
● Online relationships
● Being safe
(DfE 2018a; 2018b: 10-11)
The emphasis here is very much on recognising the characteristics of positive
relationships. This should then help children ‘to recognise any less positive
relationships when they encounter them’, to know when they are unsafe, and how
and where to seek help (DFE 2018a: 15). In addition, the guidance states that the
teaching of Health Education, which includes learning about the ‘key facts of
puberty’, will become compulsory in primary schools (DfE 2018a: 27). Should
primary schools also choose to teach sex education beyond the requirements of
9
the National Curriculum for Science, the right for parents to withdraw their children
from lessons, enshrined in earlier guidance remains (DfEE 2000; DFE 2013; DFE
2018a).
If anything, the new draft guidance has further muddied the waters. PSHE is still
not compulsory, yet many of the themes identified as part of Relationships
Education are at the core of the PSHE curriculum (DfE 2018a; PSHE Association
2016). Furthermore, the guidance states that primary schools can choose to teach
sex education with content that reaches beyond the guidance for Relationships
and Health Education, and the Science National Curriculum, but provides limited
guidance in this regard. Consequently, curriculum content for primary level SRE
was and remains ill-defined, and, at the time this research was undertaken, the
legal requirements on primary schools for the teaching of sex education continue
to be both minimal and lacking clarity.
1.4 Purpose of this qualitative study
This thesis explores adults’ attitudes toward Sex and Relationship Education
(SRE) for Key Stage (KS) 1 pupils and examines how these align with the way
children of this age (5-7 years) construct, experience and understand their
sexuality and gender. Located at the convergence of the sociology of education
and childhood and gender studies, this work has been embarked upon from a
feminist poststructuralist perspective, additionally it draws upon theoretical work
of Raewyn Connell (1987, 1995) and Judith Butler (1990, 1993).
This thesis poses four central questions:
10
● What are teachers’ and parents’ / carers’ views about what constitutes
appropriate SRE for KS1 children?
● What are children’s conceptions of and views on gender roles?
● How do children talk about the construction and performance of their
gendered and sexual identities within the learning spaces of the classroom
and playground?
● To what extent do teachers and parents’ / carers’ perspectives on children’s
gendered and sexual development coincide with children’s expressed
understandings of their gendered and sexual identities?
At my urging, the school in which this study was undertaken was beginning to
consider the introduction of SRE in KS1. Seeing SRE as a site where children
both develop an understanding of sexuality and gender, and through which they
also construct their own sexual and gendered identities, I sought to explore adults’
attitudes towards the idea of SRE at a young age and what they considered to be
beneficial content. I also wanted to uncover what fuelled these adults’ viewpoints
and whether their ideas would be in line with children’s needs. Often studies ask
teachers and parents to reflect upon their experiences of teaching SRE, and while
this is also the case here, the central focus when speaking to adults is to gather
their perspectives on the future possibilities of a KS1 programme of study, giving
adults a ‘blank slate’ to consider what might be valuable for children and exploring
their reasoning. Unlike other studies in this area I have brought the standpoints of
parents and teachers together to identify shared feelings, experiences and
motivations underpinning these adults’ expressed opinions.
11
Children’s and young people’s sexual and gendered identities have been the focus
of some prior research, including, for example, Renold’s (2005) important work
examining upper primary school children’s sexualities and Thornes’ (1993)
ethnographic research exploring the way young children construct and police
gender identity through play. However, construction of these identities remains
under-explored. By talking to children, I aim to extend the understanding of how
they frame the ways in which they construct their gendered and sexual identities
within the regulatory, heteronormative context of the primary school. I also
consider what this means in terms of their lived experiences and implications for
practice.
In taking a poststructural feminist approach, I resist the longstanding binary power
relationships of child / adult, masculine / feminine, girl / boy and seek to empower
children as a marginalised grouping by hearing and valuing their voices. By
deconstructing the data gathered from children and adults through focus group
interviews, I have made visible the ways groups and individuals discursively
situate themselves in terms of childhood, gender, sexuality, parenthood,
professional identity and education. As will be discussed in Chapter 2, Raewyn
Connell’s (1987, 1995) concept of hegemonic masculinity has proved useful in
conceptualising power relations within groups of boys and between boys and girls.
Judith Butler’s (1990, 1993) work has also informed this study, with her assertion
of the performativity of gender and the notion of the heterosexual matrix, within
which the body, gender and sexuality are ‘naturally’ aligned. It is this work that has
12
facilitated the exploration of the hegemonic nature of heterosexuality and provided
for the possibility of change.
1.5 Chronology
At the time I began to gather the data for this study I had been working as a primary
school teacher for nine years. I was coming to the end of my fourth year working
at BCP, which meant I had built relationships with parents, children and staff over
a long period of time and knew the community quite well. I continued in my role at
the school for the next two years, leaving at the end of the 2014 summer term.
The completion of this study has taken a number of years, during which time (as
outlined above) public debate and the legislative landscape underwent a number
of changes. The focus group interviews took place in May and June 2012. This
was a period when the media and politicians were heavily focused on questions
of commercialisation, sexualisation and the loss of childhood innocence. The
DfEE’s (2000) SRE Guidance was in place but had not been reviewed or amended
in light of any technological or social changes that had occurred. The National
Curriculum (DfEE 1999) was under review but was yet to be finalised. While civil
partnerships for same sex couples had been established for a number of years,
the legal question of marriage equality was not to be resolved until 2013.
Over time, the status of SRE in primary schools has been much debated, as has
its title. In more recent years there has been a move away from Sex and
Relationships, with relationships coming to the fore with a renaming of the subject
as Relationships and Sex Education (DfE 2018a, 2018b). Unless referring to
13
debates and documents that refer specifically to RSE, throughout this study I have
decided to retain the title SRE. I have done so to locate the study in the appropriate
moment in time, and maintain consistency and clarity throughout the thesis. The
discussions in focus groups were rooted in and informed by the contents of the
2000 (DfEE) Sex and Relationships Guidance. Furthermore, the name ‘SRE’, with
the possible perception of the prioritising of ‘sex’ over relationships might well have
coloured participants’ perceptions and the way these were expressed in their
discussions. (For example, both Mr Heymann and Mrs Waites expressed disquiet
about the naming of the subject, worrying that this ‘scared’ parents.).
1.6 Conclusion and structure
The children in this study drew upon a range of resources to support their
understanding and construction of their own gendered and sexual identities. They
discussed their “romantic relationships” and their views on gender, and described
the ways in which expressions of gender identity were policed through play. What
became evident was the importance they placed on their friendships and how they
positioned themselves and were positioned by others as girlfriends and boyfriends.
It was also clear, I argue, that ‘doing’ rather than being girl or boy was regulated
by heterosexist norms that suffused their school and home lives.
The power of compulsory heterosexuality and the discourse of childhood
innocence came through powerfully during the teachers’ and parents’ group
interviews. They wanted children to understand the social world they inhabit and
talked about SRE as a vehicle for social change, for example, to combat
homophobia and gender stereotyping.
At the same time, however, their
14
attachment to normative heterosexuality meant that they had a restrictive view of
possibilities for children’s lives. The imbalance of power between adults and
children meant that the dominance of parents’ rights subsuming children’s needs
was taken for granted by most of the adult participants.
By placing participant voices at the heart of this thesis, the following chapters
demonstrate that the discourse of childhood innocence and (lack of) maturity
constrains the development of SRE programmes that would put children at the
heart of the teaching. Recurrent themes of gender bias and a heterosexist agenda
further undermine the debate, in which the lived experiences of children are
perpetually side-lined.
I begin each of the following chapters with a brief vignette to illustrate the
multiplicity of ways children do their gendered and sexual identities within the
confines of the primary school. These represent an opportunity for me to bring my
personal experiences of children’s behaviours into the thesis. While all are based
on real interactions, these vignettes are most frequently presented as typical or
generic incidents that I witnessed in my years as a KS1 teacher. Their purpose is
to provide an insight into some of the ways I have witnessed children questioning,
exploring and expressing their identities.
The Literature Review, contained in Chapter 2, begins with an exploration of the
theoretical foundations of this research. There then follows a discussion of the
public and political debate around the sexualisation and commercialisation of
childhood before moving on to an examination of the literature focused on
15
parenting and the notion of the vulnerable child. Then childhood innocence, a
theme that came through strongly in focus group interviews, is examined,
particularly with regard to girls’ identities. This is followed by a section on the
importance of play as a key site for the development of children’s gendered and
sexual identities. The final section examines feminist perspectives on sex
education, its heterosexist nature, and the way that SRE has been viewed as
serving different functions and needing different approaches for girls and boys.
Ideas that SRE should be context-specific and employed to identify and tackle
imbalances in binary gender power relations are also explored.
The focus of Chapter 3 is an exploration of the methodology, and approach to data
production, analysis and evaluation. Here the theoretical underpinnings of the
study are also discussed.
Chapter 4 examines teachers’ background in teaching and learning SRE. It
interrogates their personal experiences, levels of confidence and reservations
about teaching the subject in KS1. Since some of these teachers are also parents,
this chapter also illustrates some of the tensions that exist in their dual role as
teacher and parent.
In Chapter 5, parents’ attachment to the notion of childhood innocence and the
strain this brings when they also want to prepare their children to live in the wider
world and future adulthood is explored. Parents’ presumption of and desire for a
heterosexual life for their children is also discussed. What comes through clearly
in this chapter is the high degree of trust the majority of these parents invest in the
16
school and in their children’s teachers as caring, well-trained and experienced
professionals, while acknowledging that other parents might not feel the same way
within the context of teaching SRE.
The lives and attitudes of children are the focus for Chapter 6. Here it becomes
clear that these children have a reservoir of knowledge and experience that adults
(parents and teachers) overlook when considering both the school environment
and ethos, and the content and approach to teaching SRE. These children
demonstrate that the adults in their lives consistently underestimate their agency
in developing gendered and sexual identities, and their depth of commitment to
this process. They repeatedly show a sophisticated ability to deconstruct the world
around them, drawing on a range of first-hand experiences to develop their own
interpretations.
Chapter 7 seeks to identify and revisit recurring themes in the previous three
chapters, especially those of innocence and heterosexual hegemony, bringing the
voices and opinions of the three sets of participants together.
The concluding chapter draws out some of the most significant findings in terms of
challenging adults’ perceptions of children’s lived experiences, the emotional
relevance and importance in terms of the status of children’s relationships, and the
ways they do gender and construct their sexuality. Teachers’ and parents’ views,
experiences and motivations are also brought together. The alignment of gender,
age and innocence is an important theme within these findings, as is the strong
pull of heteronormativity. Finally, I consider, in a broad way, the implications for
17
policy and practice. I identify the need for policymakers, parents / carers and
schools to see children for who they are, rather than for who they want them to be,
and to use this as a realistic starting point for the development and delivery of a
truly beneficial and progressive SRE curriculum.
18
Chapter 2: Literature Review
It was not unusual for children to identify themselves as girlfriends or boyfriends.
However, this sometimes resulted in heartache and tears when children perceived
themselves to have been replaced in their relationships:
Hannah sat sobbing in the quiet area of the playground,
refusing to speak to her best friend, Kayleigh. Later, she
explained that she was upset because Freddy was her
boyfriend but he had invited Kayleigh to his birthday party
instead of her.
2.1 Introduction
This review begins with an examination of theoretical perspectives that have
informed the formulation of my research questions, my thinking in terms of
research design and transaction, and the analysis, interpretation and presentation
of data. In section 2.3, I then move on to the question of childhood innocence,
sexualisation and commercialisation within the literature, beginning with
government sponsored reviews and reports as these were both prompted by and
fuelled public discussion via the media; as such this literature is most likely to have
had an impact on the thinking of the adult participants in this study. Section 2.4
explores the relationship between public perceptions of a threat to childhood
innocence, parenting styles and their possible impacts on parents and children. I
return once more to the question of childhood innocence and sexuality as
19
addressed from a scholarly perspective, in Section 2.5. It is here that a more
nuanced, research-driven approach is illuminated, and the intersection of gender
and class are touched upon. As play is an integral part of children’s lives and
playtimes arguably when they are least directly regulated by adults, I then explore
research on the gendered nature of play and its place in children’s active
construction of their gender and sexual identities. Finally, I address the scholarly
debate on the position and nature of SRE. I undertake this from a largely feminist
perspective due to the social marginalisation of children as a group, the
connection of the SRE debate to gendered power relations, and the construction
and performance of children’s gendered and sexual identities.
2.2 Gender identities and theory
Raewyn Connell’s (1987, 1989, 1995, 2000) work on masculinities and
poststructuralist feminist theory as presented by writers like Bronwyn Davies
(1989a, 1989b, 1993) Valerie Walkerdine (1989, 1993, 1997, 1998) and Carrie
Paechter (2018), alongside Butler’s (1990, 1993) theories of performativity and
the heterosexual matrix have been widely employed to explore gender and, to a
lesser extent, sexual identity in the classroom (e.g. Benjamin 2003; Connolly
1998; Meyenn and Parker 2011; Reay 2003; Renold 2005; Ringrose and Renold
2010; Swain 2000, 2003, 2004). Although these approaches are built upon
differing theoretical foundations, I have found them useful in conceptualising
gender and sexual identities and social relationships in school.
Since the 1960s and 1970s, second wave feminists have both adapted and
challenged essentialist ideas of sex / gender difference, with a social
20
constructionist view of gender roles gaining ground and offering the prospect of
change in the roles of women and men (see Beasley 2005; Francis 2006;
Richardson 2000). Oakley’s (1972) distinction between biological sex and
culturally constructed gender opened up new possibilities. Although retaining a
conservative acceptance of a society ordered around a binary sex / gender
division, she argued against the idea that the roles of women and men are natural.
Consequently, if gender behaviours are learned then they can be remodelled. The
social construction of gender roles, whereby individuals learn socially acceptable
patterns of behaviour and attitudes in line with their biologically assigned sex,
through imitation and the application of rewards and sanctions, proved to be an
important theoretical resource for those attempting to redress the gender
imbalance of western societies and paved the way for further study focusing on
uneven gender relations.
During this period, some feminist scholars and teachers began to theorise and
take action with the aim of disrupting existing power relations within education. For
example, Spender (1982) located herself within a long tradition of women writers
who highlight male domination of an education system that serves as a tool of
patriarchy. She pointed out that an education system where the standards are set
by men, where these are seen as the norm, and in which women are repeatedly
painted as ‘lesser’ and propelled towards failure, safeguards men’s prime position
in schools, colleges and workplaces. She went on to describe attempts to redress
the balance and advocate the development of ‘women’s education that is womanmade’ (Spender 1982: 161). However, such an approach failed to acknowledge
agency on the part of individuals developing their own sex / gender identities and
21
underestimated the tenacity of prevailing gender-based power dynamics. As Arnot
(1991: 448) pointed out:
The simplicity of its portrayal of the process of learning and of
gender identity formation, its assumptions about the nature of
stereotyping, its somewhat negative view of girls as victims had all
contributed to the creation of particular school-based strategies.
These strategies, although designed to widen girls’ and boys’
horizons, and give them more opportunities in life were somewhat
idealistic in intention and naïve in approach.
After all, as Connell (1989) noted, if girls’ and women’s sex roles are constrained
so too are those of boys and men, who are likely to resist attempts to undermine
their privileged position.
Connell’s concept of hegemonic masculinity has proven to be a useful way of
thinking about power relations between boys in the classroom and playground, in
addition to considering the power dynamics between girls and boys. Crucially, this
theory makes space for power relations to exert themselves within, as well as
between, genders. Thus, she challenged the perspective that any variation from
“the norm” should be viewed in terms of individual deviance. Connell’s early work
built upon feminist concepts of patriarchy and gender and served to undercut
elements of sex role theory, thereby providing for possible change arising out of
challenging the uneven distribution of power between genders. Drawing upon
ethnographic studies of men in a range of contexts, she also began to take
22
account of the intersection of class, race and gender (Carrigan et al 1985; Connell
1987; Demetriou 2001; Messershmidt 2018). Furthermore, Connell went on to
attack social determinism that asserts the notion of the body as a blank canvas
upon which an individual’s gender is drawn by social conventions (Connell 1995).
Nonetheless, echoing the work of Foucault (1991, 1998), for Connell (1995: 52)
the body is an ‘inescapable’ social marker of gender and position within a genderbased hierarchy. In Masculinities (Connell, 1995), the importance of sport and
sporting hierarchies were explored, themes which other writers also echo
(Connolly 1995; Swain 2000, 2003, 2004; Renold 1997). Here performance is allimportant, with those “at the top” using their bodies to maintain their privileged
position in relation to lesser men and all women. While few meet the criteria for a
leading sportsman, and those who do face contradictions within the hegemonic
form of masculinity they are regarded as epitomizing, their dominant position
remains intact. Indeed, it is the alternative forms of masculinity and femininities
combined, that highlight and thereby fortify the hegemonic.
Thanks to hegemonic masculinity, the vast majority of men reap rewards in
relation to women (Connell 1987). However, from her earliest work Connell argued
that the hegemonic, idealised form of masculinity is occupied fully by only a few
(Connell 1987). Other men occupy other forms of masculinity: complicit
masculinities reap the benefits of hegemonic masculinity but do not fully take on
its characteristics; subordinate masculinities, most obviously gay masculinities are
often equated to femininity, and marginalized masculinities are dominated due to
the intersection of gender with class, race, ethnicity, and so on (Connell 1995,
2000). Within marginalised masculinity, intersectionality plays a particularly
23
important and fluctuating or contradictory role in the space an individual occupies.
For example, stereotypical working-class male traits, such as engaging in manual
labour, heavy drinking and aggression, may be highly valued, while limited
economic resources are frowned upon. Therefore, Donaldson, in his exploration
of hegemonic masculinity noted:
Through hegemonic masculinity most men benefit from the control of
women. For a very few men, it delivers control of other men. To put it
another way, the crucial difference between hegemonic masculinity
and other masculinities is not the control of women, but the control of
men . . . (Donaldson 1993: 656)
While Connell’s work has been highly influential and utilised within the fields of
masculinity and gender studies, over time it has also increasingly been the subject
of criticism and modification from a number of quarters (e.g. Anderson 2007;
Demetriou 2001; Rasmussen 2009; Swain 2006). For example, Rasmussen is
reluctant to accept the idea underpinning Connell’s (1987) concept of emphasized
femininity ‘that all femininities are rendered powerless relative to all masculinities’
(Rasmussen 2009: 435). Demetriou (2001) charged that Connell fails to
acknowledge the constructive relationship between hegemonic masculinity and
subordinate or marginalized masculinities and femininities.
In later work, Connell discussed some of the ambiguities and inconsistencies
inherent in using masculinity / masculinities as a framework for understanding
relationships and identities (Connell 2000; Connell and Messerschmidt 2005).
24
Here the impact of the use of ‘men’, and by extension ‘women’ is pondered,
conceding the restrictive nature of such terms. There is also an acknowledgement
of the importance of relationships between genders, of taking account of the
significance of intersectionality, and of recognising that ‘“masculinity” represents
not a certain type of man but, rather, a way that men position themselves through
discursive practices’ (Connell and Messerschmidt 2005: 841).
The theory of hegemonic masculinity and the significance of the body have been
utilised by those seeking to demonstrate the importance of the school setting in
the production of masculine identity (Renold 1997, 2001, 2004, 2007; Skelton
1997; Swain 2000, 2003, 2004, 2006). These authors’ research illuminated the
ways in which boys in both primary and secondary schools establish themselves
within a masculine hierarchy through sport, aggression and the wearing of
particular clothing. Being good at football and showing themselves to be
knowledgeable about sport is key cultural capital for boys. However, this work also
demonstrated that the precise forms of these demonstrations of masculinity were
dependent upon the resources available to the boys within their institutional
settings.
Despite the use of these concepts to illustrate the importance of school as a site
for the production of masculinities, Connell was more sceptical about its
significance.
Beginning
to
highlight
the
importance
of
socio-economic
backgrounds in relation to academic performance, Connell (1989) did not deny
that school is an important institution for constructing masculinity but, having
interviewed adult men about their lives, concluded that it was not the most
25
important. For Connell, outside influences played a more substantial role in how
young men both constructed their masculine identities and reacted to schooling.
While many (“failing”) working class boys resisted the system, other boys from
more privileged backgrounds, embraced a more responsible form of masculinity
that served them well in both social and educational terms.
Although Connell has expressed doubts regarding the importance of schooling,
hegemonic masculinity has been a useful concept for those seeking to explain the
development of gendered identities in the young and the power relationships
among boys, and between boys and girls. Those seeking to undermine the
tendency of the media and government to portray boys as a homogeneous group
failing educationally at the hands of women have been able to utilise Connell’s
ideas to demonstrate the complexity of gender relations and have gone some way
‘to challenge the view that in millennial Britain it is boys rather than girls who are
relatively disadvantaged’ (Reay 2001:154). 1
Within Connell’s work the concept of hegemonic femininity was rejected due to
women’s subordination to men. Instead, Connell (1987) referred to emphasised
femininity. Promoted through advertising, newspaper, and other media,
emphasized femininity exists to serve men’s power rather than to exert itself over
other forms of femininity. It is this form of femininity that nearly 20 years later
Paechter (2006b: 255) describes as ‘super-girly’. Femininity, within this dualistic
model, lacks power and as such cannot be hegemonic. However, as Paechter
1
For brief discussions of the way boys’ underachievement has been portrayed see Foster,
Kimmel and Skelton (2001) and Skelton (1995).
26
(2018) points out, while masculinity has been the subject of much theorisation,
femininity has not received the same treatment. In attempting to begin to fill this
theoretical hole, Paechter returns to the work of Gramsci (1971 cited in Paechter
2018) and melds this with Foucault’s (1977, 1978, 1980, 1982 cited in Paechter
2018: 123) conceptualisation of ‘complex power relations.’ This enables her to
advance the possibility of the co-construction of hegemonic femininity and
hegemonic masculinity. In this model, both hegemonic femininity and hegemonic
masculinity are localised and contextual, and serve to maintain the status quo in
terms of the gender order (Paechter 2018: 124). These hegemonic forms can be
seen as ‘aspirational’ and within this the hegemonic form of femininity does not
need to conform to longstanding stereotypes that recall an ‘idealised’ version of
the 1950s housewife. This form of femininity can be strong and independent, for
example, but still maintain masculine-feminine power relations.
Paechter (2018) moves on to apply her early theoretical considerations (for she
acknowledges that these ideas need further work) to her previous ethnographic
work with primary school children as part of the Tomboy Identities Project
(Paechter and Clark 2007a, 2007b; Paechter 2010). In this she demonstrates the
utility of these ideas when examining the power dynamics between two groups of
children (‘cool’ girls and ‘cool’ boys) and illustrates some of the ways in which they
maintained dominance over others. However, despite the cool girls’ power over
other girls, she demonstrates that they continued to be unable to undermine
prevailing gender relations.
27
Writing from a feminist poststructuralist perspective (see Weedon 1987) both
Valerie Walkerdine (1989, 1993, 1997, 1998) and Bronwyn Davies (1989a, 1989b,
1993) provided a counter to the view that sex roles are fixed, and denied the
homogeneity of both male and female. Feminist poststructuralism questions the
simplistic binaries and power structures embedded in patriarchy. Rather than
stable and coherent, individual subjects are considered to be fluid, unstable and
contradictory. The subject is constituted and re-constituted through discourses
including, for example, discourses of gender and age. Language, social
institutions and social interactions are all scrutinised to identify, understand and
challenge those power structures that ensure the subordination of particular
groups (Davies and Banks 1995; Gavey 1989; Francis 2001; Weedon 1987).
Like Connell, Walkerdine and Davies saw male and female, masculinity and
femininity, as relational, and discursively constituted in opposition to one another.
Davies used a poststructuralist framework of analysis to interrogate the
construction of young children’s gendered identities. She explored the prospect of
an alternative discourse ‘where social practice is not defined in terms of the set of
genitals they happen to have’ (Davies 1989b: 167), where the feminine is not
subordinated and where the possibility to move beyond binary subjectivities is
made real (Davies 1989a, 1989b, 1993; Davies and Hunt 1994). Building on these
ideas, Davies sought to promote equal opportunities through the presentation of
active roles for girls and women via non-traditional texts and alternative
pedagogies (Davies 1989, 1993).
28
Similarly, Walkerdine’s work focused on gender, class and education, illuminated
the localised discursive practices that signify femininity, attributed agency to
children and provided for the possibility of change (Walkerdine 1989, 1993, 1997,
1998; Walkerdine et al 2001). For example, in her 1989 work ‘Femininity as
performance’, she unpacked some of the foundational ideas underpinning childcentred pedagogy and some of the myths associated with girls’ and boys’
academic performance. For Walkerdine (1989), the actual outcomes for children
were less important than the meanings attributed to them. She asserted that in a
system where exploratory play and discovery learning are valorised, children are
positioned as active and teachers (usually female teachers of young children) are
positioned as passive. Simultaneously, play is discursively framed in opposition to
work, and within that dichotomy boys are associated with play and girls with work.
This places girls in a “no win” situation, in which their achievements are always
‘downgraded or dismissed’ (Walkerdine 1989: 268). For girls who perform well in
school, particularly in those subjects traditionally viewed as masculine, this is
attributed to hard work rather than cleverness. Meanwhile, boys’ innate qualities
– their brilliance and aptitude – are valued and used to account for their successes.
For boys who achieve poorly, there is always a “good” reason: they have potential,
and are “bright” but lack focus, have other interests, boys will be boys etc. For girls
in the same position there is no redemption because their failure can only be due
to their lack of hard work, for they have nothing else to draw upon.
Exploring the ways children’s gender identities are discursively and oppositionally
produced, both Walkerdine’s (1989, 1993, 1997, 1998) and Davies’ (1989a,
1989b, 1993) work have proved useful within the context of this study. Additionally,
29
the notion of individuals’ adopting alternative, sometimes contradictory,
subjectivities depending on context (positioning rather than roles), have proved to
be useful concepts for unpacking the views and behaviours of participants within
this localised study, as has the proposition of agency (Davies and Harré 1990).
The heterosexist nature of the primary school has been illuminated through the
theoretical work of Judith Butler. Butler’s work is rooted in an eclectic range of
scholarly traditions that in her 1999 introduction to Gender Trouble she referred to
as
‘intellectual
promiscuity’
(Butler,1990:
x).
Drawing
on
literary
and
psychoanalytic theory, theology and philosophy, she has greatly influenced writers
focusing on the subject of gender identity. Butler’s (1988, 1990) concepts of
‘performativity’ and the ‘heterosexual matrix’ (later ‘heterosexual hegemony’) have
served many well when examining the nature and construction of the gendered
subject.
In Gender Trouble (Butler 1990), she asserted the importance of discourse in the
manifestation of sex, gender and sexuality as apparently natural and universal
phenomena. For Butler, the subject does not perform gender; rather, it is already
existent and elucidated through a series of (repeated) acts promoted and
constrained via the heterosexual matrix for, like Adrienne Rich, she viewed
heterosexuality as ‘compulsory’ (Rich 1980). Individuals are not their gender,
rather they ‘do’ gender. As such, there is also within the matrix the possibility,
indeed the necessity, for subversion. By stepping outside the perceived norms
there is an opportunity for the current binaries to be undermined and redefined.
However, in doing so these norms may also serve to reinforce the heterosexual
30
matrix by serving a ‘policing’ function, an opportunity to expose the ‘Other’ that
helps to maintain the status quo.
In an effort to address the notion that the conflation of sex and gender in Gender
Trouble (Butler 1990) denied the importance or even the existence of the material
body, Butler responded with Bodies That Matter (Butler 1993). Here, she also
attempted to allay the fears of those who saw her vision of the discursive
construction of ‘woman’ as politically problematic, explaining her view that:
. . . the category of women does not become useless through
deconstruction, but becomes one whose uses are no longer reified as
“referents”, and which stand a chance of being opened up, indeed, of
coming to signify in ways that none of us can predict in advance.
Surely, it must be possible both to use the term, to use it tactically even
as one is, as it were, used and positioned by it, and also to subject the
term to a critique which interrogates the exclusionary operations and
differential power-relations that construct and delimit feminist
evocations of “women”. (Butler 1993: 5)
In just this way it is also important to employ terms like ‘queer’ in the fight against
homophobia.
The introduction of ‘race’ as a discursively produced identity is an important
element of Bodies That Matter. It is only relatively recently that those conducting
research into gender identity have begun to address the intersection of gender and
31
race (and class) (Ali 2003; Connell 1987; Connolly 1995; Graham and Robinson
2004; Holland 1995; Mac an Ghaill 1994; Shain 2003; Walkerdine et al 2001).
Rather than accepting the primacy of gender over other forms of identity, Butler
claimed that:
. . . though there are clearly good historical reasons for keeping “race”
and “sexuality” and “sexual difference” as separate analytical spheres,
there are also quite pressing and significant historical reasons for
asking how and where we might read not only their convergence, but
the sites at which the one cannot be constituted save through the other.
(Butler 1993: 123)
For Butler, race, gender and sexuality are inseparable, each intersecting with the
other to constitute and define identity.
Butler’s interpretation of Freudian theory, an inferred absence of agency in her
theories, the repeated use of the terms heterosexual hegemony suggesting
universality, and her ideas concerning subversion have rightly been the subject of
criticism (Atkinson and DePalma 2009; Connell 2000; Hood-Williams and Harrison
1998; Hughes and Witz 1997). However, even if her work does implicitly call into
question the legitimacy of gender as a political and analytical tool, it still provides
a solid theoretical foundation for many researchers.
A number of researchers working in schools, and examining links between gender,
sexuality and childhood innocence have drawn upon Butler’s theories to inform
32
their analysis (Allan et al 2010; Connolly 1995; Dixon 1997, Epstein and Johnson
1998; Epstein et al 2001; Haywood and Mac an Ghaill 2001; Martino 1999; Mills
2001; Renold 2001, 2002, 2005, 2007; Walkerdine 1997; Wallis and VanEvery
2000; Warren 1997). I have, similarly been influenced by Butler’s rejection of
essentialism, her assertion that sex, gender and sexuality are produced
discursively, and her argument that we ‘do’ gender.
It has been explicitly argued that researchers should further question the ways in
which we use femininity and masculinity as an analytical framework that might
detrimentally serve to promote the linkage of the sexed body with the production
of gender identity and of stereotypes, and reinforce uneven relationships within
and between genders (e.g. Francis 2010, 2012; Haywood and Mac an Ghaill 2012;
Paechter 2012, 2018). These concerns have led to the theoretical exploration of
alternative approaches to the conceptualisation of sexed and gendered identities.
One suggested approach to addressing these tensions from a poststructuralist
perspective came from Becky Francis (2012). Francis returned to Bakhtin’s work
on literary criticism and semiotics (1981 cited in Francis 2012) and employed his
concepts of heteroglossia and monoglossia to gender. The dominant,
monoglossic, account of gender is founded in a dualistic model, which locates
‘male / masculine as Subject’ and ‘female / feminine as Other’ (Francis 2012: 5).
In this “common sense” model, Francis explained, masculinity is identified and
valued as ‘rational, strong, active’ while, conversely, femininity is ‘emotional, weak
[and] passive’ (Francis 2012: 5). However, the apparent overarching truth of this
account camouflages the true complexity and instability of gender production.
33
Engaging with these concepts, Francis demonstrated, might allow us to step away
from an essentialist binding of the body to gender (and sexual) identity while still
taking account of the linkage between the two within the existing social structure
and enabling a more complex account of gender. Given the starting point for these
concepts, this approach also seems appropriate when deconstructing participants’
use of language and utterances.
The terms masculinity and femininity are not entirely rejected by those who have
embarked on this discussion. Rather, scholars are asking important questions
about the impact of their use, while simultaneously acknowledging their potential
salience for current and complex analysis of social relations. Thus, research
located in primary schools, like that of Skelton et al (2009), has demonstrated this
framework holds meaning for children trying to negotiate their own identities and
their place within the social context of the school, as well as for their parents and
teachers. Furthermore, as Youdell (2004: 481) pointed out, gender categorisation
carries with it meanings that ‘constitute the subject’ while simultaneously allowing
for the troubling of these normative identities. With this in mind, I have chosen to
continue to utilise these terms, while simultaneously attempting to look beyond a
straightforward gender binary and recognise the fluidity and complexity of
individuals’ expressions of identity and positioning in relation to one another. In
this way, I aim to lay open the ways in which a particular group of children at BCP
construct their gender and sexual identities, and how these are perceived by both
parents and teachers.
34
2.3 Growing up too soon: the public and political discourse of
commercialisation and sexualisation
The need to protect childhood innocence is a much-repeated refrain in public
discourse and is frequently linked with discussions of sexualisation and
commercialisation. However, the position of the innocent child (most frequently
girls) is far from straightforward, with children simultaneously drawn as passive
potential victims, but with inherent sexual urges that might be awakened with just
a little coaxing or knowledge, and, on some occasions as active agents of a
dangerous, youthful sexuality. These contradictory perspectives mean that there
is a narrow tightrope for children to walk if they are to avoid the censure of both
adults and their peers.
Adults’ widely held belief in children as non-sexual innocents and the need to
protect them from the loss of that innocence is comprehensively documented
(Kehily 2012; McGinn et al 2016; Robinson 2008, 2010, 2013), and promoted by
writers and publishers of parenting guides. In recent years, there has been a
growing body of literature instructing parents how to protect their children from
growing up too soon, becoming victims of marketing promoting ‘adult’ goods to
children and an entertainment culture with sex at its heart (Levin and Kilbourne
2009). Some authors have also focused on defending little girls against the
onslaught of messages that promote hyperfeminity as the ideal (Carey 2015;
Orenstein 2011). These may be written from a range of perspectives, but their
proliferation demonstrates the prevalence of fear among adults that children are
losing their innocence and being moulded into “problematic” versions of girl and,
sometimes, boy. However, as Danielle Egan (2013) claimed in her textual analysis
35
of assumptions regarding the sexualisation of girls, these are also rooted in a
defence of white, middle-class conventions and tend to deny children’s agency in
constructing their gender and sexual identities.
A number of government-sponsored reports have also been produced in the UK,
Australia and the USA, some of which mirror the “common-sense” approach of
popular literature on the subject (APA 2007; Bailey 2011; Byron 2008, 2010;
Buckingham et al 2010; Papadopolous 2010; Rush and La Nauze 2006). Standing
out among these is the work of Buckingham et al (2010), undertaken for the
Scottish Parliament by a team of experienced and well-regarded researchers in
this field. The research focused on sexualised goods and did not have the remit
of producing policy recommendations. Within this report, Buckingham et al
undertook a concise literature review, clearly set out and evaluated their own
broad terms of analysis and were explicit in their description of their research
design. Significantly, in addition to gathering data by surveying retail outlets and
through parent focus group interviews, young people aged 12-14 years were
asked to participate via classroom-based activities and interviews.
The young participants in Buckingham et al’s study emerged as active, critical
consumers who wanted to ‘fit in’ with their peers while still developing their own
individuality. Clothing was important in terms of building their identity. In their
choices, they tended to want to occupy a ‘middle ground’ that shifted over time,
and between groups and locations (Buckingham et al 2010: 67). This was
particularly important for girls, who tended to judge each other and be judged more
harshly than boys. Dressing ‘sexy’ was a minefield. Sometimes, individual items
36
of clothing could be viewed as acceptable or not depending on how they were
worn and who was wearing them and transgressions could lead to the label ‘chav’,
with its attendant class connotations. Young people also felt strongly that sexy
clothing and make-up put girls at risk from older boys and men, and this led to a
good deal of victim blaming in the course of discussions (a view similarly
expressed by some of the study’s parent participants and strongly refuted by the
report’s authors).
Neither parents nor children expressed a real desire for government intervention
or regulation. The young people who took part thought they should be able to
make their own decisions about what they purchased and what they wore; it was
the role of parents to ensure that younger children were guided in their choices
and taught to be responsible. Similarly, parents considered themselves to be the
best judges of what was good for their children, and expected them to develop
into adulthood by gradually assuming greater responsibility for themselves and
making their own choices as they entered their teenage years. The discourse of
childhood innocence featured in discussions with parents but, as is often the case,
this meant different things to different parents with some interpreting
‘experimenting with make-up, even imitating ‘sexy’ dance styles (and similar
behaviour) as innocuous, fun, and devoid of adult sexual connotations’
(Buckingham et al: 6). What came through repeatedly throughout was the different
standards applied to girls and boys.
The conclusions drawn in Buckingham et al’s (2010) report are important in
demonstrating these young people’s critical engagement with the world around
37
them, their attitudes toward their peers and their views on the role of parents.
However, while they did seek the views of young people, there exists within this
report a significant vacuum in terms of the perspectives of primary-aged children
and their parents. Furthermore, although some of the research was conducted in
school-based settings, the subject of the impact of the educational system was
not considered. These are significant areas that I seek to address in this thesis.
At the time of gathering data for this thesis, the reports that parents were most
likely to have heard about were those of Papadopolous (2010) and Bailey (2011);
as such these were the most likely to have had an impact on parent’s perceptions.
These reports were issued at a time when sexualisation and commercialisation
were repeatedly discussed in the media, and their findings and proposals were
widely reported in the press (Casciani 2010; Dustin and Fae 2011; Nuathor 2010;
Poulter 2010; Wallop 2011a, 2011b). In contrast to Buckingham et al’s (2010)
report, both Papadopolous’ Sexualisation of Young People Review and Bailey’s
Letting Children be Children have been the subjects of stinging criticism from
within the academy (Barker and Duchinsky 2012; Bragg 2012; Bragg et al 2011;
Clark 2013; Duchinsky and Barker 2013; Renold and Ringrose 2011; Smith and
Attwood 2011; Smith 2010).
Papadopolous (2010: 4) claimed that she wanted ‘all boys and girls, to grow up
confident about who they are and about finding and expressing their individuality,
but not through imposed gender stereotypes or in a way that objectifies the body
or commodifies their burgeoning sexuality’. This seems a reasonable enough
38
desire, as does her interest in addressing the issue of violence against women.
However, her failure to make substantive, evidence-based links between
sexualisation (ill-defined) and violence, her reliance on a depiction of the innocent
child that is concurrently homogenous and drawing upon white middle-class
values, and her failure to properly consider children’s active engagement with the
media in all its forms, served to undermine her proposed intent (see Duchinsky
and Barker 2013; Smith 2010; Smith and Attwood 2011). In this Papadopolous’
report might be seen as a prime example of presenting the type of imagery
described by Walkerdine (1997) in Daddy’s Girl. Furthermore, while she lamented
that ‘Hyper-femininity and hyper-masculinity posit heterosexuality as the norm,
influencing
attitudes
towards
homosexuality
in
schools
and
beyond’
Papadopolous’ review seems suffused with a quiet acceptance of normative
heterosexuality; her work is embedded firmly within the confines of the
heterosexual matrix (Butler 1990; Papadopolous 2010: 43).
On the other hand, the Bailey Review (2011) did address the issue of innocence
head-on, suggesting that there are two prevailing viewpoints: that children need
to be protected from a ‘nasty’ world that they will one day be ready to enter, or that
children should be taught to ‘understand and navigate . . . the commercialised and
sexualised world’ (Bailey 2011: 10). Bailey rejected both perspectives and
proposed a third way combining the first two approaches.
For Bailey, parents are both experts in what is best and must assume the mantle
of responsibility for their children. Indeed, the report all but excluded the voices of
children. Within the report, academic research was dismissed as contradictory and
39
inconclusive. Yet, despite the public debate and political rhetoric, Bailey conceded
that: ‘Worries about the commercialisation and sexualisation of childhood are not
likely to be their [parents’] most immediate priority as they bring up their children.
However, it becomes clear that, when asked, many parents believe that their
children do face these pressures’ (Bailey 2011: 7). Only when parents were
pointedly asked about these issues did they express concern. Furthermore, as
Martens, Southerton and Scott (2004) explained, within the field of the sociology
of consumption, there is a dearth of work focused on children. This means that,
just as with sexualisation, there are numerous assumptions but little real
understanding of what “commercialisation” really means when discussing
children. The emphasis on parents and a failure to understand children as
consumers, led Bailey to overlook the importance of the commercial world for
children. For example, as noted above, when children’s and young people’s peer
group hierarchies are explored it becomes clear that in some contexts owning and
displaying particular brands and types of clothing helps them to position
themselves (reflexively) and others (interactively) within certain dominant,
marginalised or subordinate groups (Buckingham et al 2010; Connell 1995;
Davies and Harré 1990; Mac an Ghaill 1994; Reay 2001; Renold 2005; Swain
2003; Tyler 2008). By only addressing parents’ ‘priorities’ Bailey failed to
acknowledge the agency of children in constructing their own identities and placed
parents’ rights above those of their children (Bailey 2010: 7).
Parents did express worries about ‘early sexualisation’ in two key areas – media
and music – when specifically prompted (Jones et al 2011: 4). They were
concerned about content that was:
40
- inappropriately sexually suggestive
- illustrating the value or role of women as sexual only
- models, or child models presented as older than their age group
- glamorising or normalising ‘deviant’ behaviour.
They were also unhappy about ‘Products, clothes and toys / giveaways which
encourage children to think of themselves (and others to think of children) as adult
or sexual (e.g. bras, revealing clothes, word ‘sexy’ on children’s clothes, make up)’
(Jones et al 2011: 4-5). As Duchinsky and Barker (2013: 738) noted, Bailey
proceeds to lay out ‘his own moral and policy claims’ upon a foundation of parental
angst. For Bailey, it was important for business to be given the opportunity to selfregulate and to respond to market forces, so parents needed to accept their part
in regulating demand for undesirable products.
Parents did see gender stereotyping of products as problematic. However, despite
his emphasis on parental wisdom and responsibility, Bailey was relatively
dismissive of these concerns. Again, he argued on behalf of business and claimed
that gender stereotyping occurs due to ‘customer demand’ and might even be
‘developmentally necessary’ (Bailey 2011: 48-49). Indeed, in this review, the pink
for girls, blue for boys divide was couched in positive terms in one of the presented
case studies, where the repackaging of a chemistry set in pink and its re-labelling
as a craft activity led to a considerable increase in sales. Although the underlying
intentions of the authors might well have been quite different, both Bailey’s (2011)
and Papadopolous’ (2010) reports have contributed to and have given legitimacy
41
to fears that children are being deprived of the innocent childhoods that are their
right. This adds fuel to the arguments of those who reject those children who
exhibit any sexual behaviours as in some way aberrant and supports the view that
sex education for children represents a danger.
Within these government-backed reports there was a strong tendency to portray
children, particularly girls, as passive consumers of a ‘sexualised’ goods and
media. They were denied active engagement and the agency to make their own
meanings when presented with a whole range of products. Likewise, they were
drawn as largely passive in the building of their identities, and frequently depicted
in the role of victim within a proposed causal relationship based on common sense
rather than evidence. This developmental approach to children also provided the
rationale for denying children the knowledge that might be sexually corrupting in
some ill-defined manner.
Within Papadolpolous’ (2010) and Bailey et al’s (2011) reports children, the group
that they professed to be working for, remained at the margins, as did the voices
of LGBT+ communities. What came through are the voices of business and
parents. The work of Walkerdine (1989, 1993, 1997, 1998), Davies (1989a, 1989b,
1990; Davies and Harré 1990) and Butler (1990, 1993), however, provide a
framework for analysis that counters this approach. By interrogating the ways in
which sexual and gender identities are discursively produced and acknowledging
the agency of children we are able to move toward a clearer understanding of
sexuality as part of children’s identities. Butler’s work also facilitates an alternative
42
reading of gender than is presented in these reports, allowing for the possibility of
a disruption of gendered power relations.
2.4 The vulnerable child and the paranoid parent
At a time when childhood has come to be viewed as under threat there has been
a move toward the idealisation of a particular style of parenting. This has been
variously described as ‘intensive’, ‘intrusive’ and ‘paranoid’ (Fairclough 2014;
Furedi 2002; Hays 1996; Shirani et al 2012). Writers like Hays (1996) and Furedi
(2002) have explored this phenomenon along with its negative impact on parents
(in Hays’ case, mothers) and their children.
Prefiguring much of the media and political focus on a threatened childhood in the
UK, Hays (1996), in The Cultural Contradictions of Motherhood, reviewed the
historical and ideological foundations of intensive mothering, and examined a
range of popular parenting manuals, before exploring the findings of her own
interviews with 38 mothers in the USA. Here she illuminated mothers’ fears about
the ways they parent their children in an emotionally and physically risky
environment. To be a ‘good’ or ‘successful’ mother, as a range of experts informed
them, these women realised that there was an expectation that they seek and
follow the advice of parenting experts. Experts guided them to devote an
inordinate amount of time, money, and emotional energy in their children.
Although the women in this small-scale study did not always live up to the ideal of
the selfless mother engaged in child-centred parenting, they frequently claimed to
strive for this and invested in this image of motherhood to bolster their own
identities. Ironically, while expert perspectives laud the mothering role,
43
engendering it with status, their portrayal of what a mother should be
simultaneously acts as a benchmark by which mothers’ “success” or “failure” can
be measured, presenting women with something of a double-edged sword.
The ideas laid out in Hays’ work have been further examined and developed by
other writers who have attacked parental reliance on the word of “experts” and
claimed that the form of intensive parenting advocated in popular publications is
detrimental to the lives of children and parents alike (Furedi 2001; Kehily 2010;
Pain 2006; Shirani et al 2012; Stokes 2009). Writing in a period when children
were portrayed by the media, politicians and academics as ‘at risk’ (contrasted
with a rose-tinted view of past childhoods), Furedi (2001) reflected that it was the
disintegration of a culture where adults felt they could rely on one another to
protect and guide their children that led to a form of parenting stemming from a
fear that the worst things imaginable would happen unless they were constantly
vigilant.
In this environment, every adult is regarded as a potential predator and every adult
fears that they will be viewed as such, thereby inhibiting communal care of children
and giving rise to a disproportionate level of suspicion amongst parents that leads
them to “parent” to an unreasonable degree. This level of anxiety, Furedi (2001)
argued, is not justifiable as children are in many ways safer than they ever have
been before. For Furedi, road traffic accidents involving children, for example, are
less numerous than previously, children are healthier than ever before and fears
of abuse are exaggerated. Nonetheless, parents take an overly ‘precautionary
approach to parenting’ that in past times might have been viewed as over-
44
protective but today is seen as ‘a virtue’ (Furedi 2001: 6-7). Lack of parents’ selfconfidence and deference to experts within this type of parenting culture are
characteristics to be explored within this study when examining parents’
willingness for schools to teach their children about sex and relationships.
Within this body of literature, parents want to keep children safe and to fully equip
them with a range of skills that would serve them well in the future (to help them
get into the right school then university, and ultimately to be employed in the “best”
jobs). This, it has been argued, has led to a move from children playing away from
the home, unsupervised by adults, to a situation in which outdoor play is most
likely to be experienced in the private space of family gardens. Consequently,
parents now take far more control over children’s leisure time enrolling them in a
range of adult-led activities (Furedi 2002; O’Brien et al. 2000; Pain 2006; Stokes
2009; Valentine and McKendrick 1997). While much of the literature refers to
‘parents’ (by implication all parents), what is evident here is that the focus is
particularly professional, educated, middle-class parents who invest in their
children with a view to guaranteeing a middle-class future that potentially excludes
other groups.
Children living in poverty or in tumultuous family situations have been at the heart
of government policy to overcome risk, for example through Every Child Matters
(HM Treasury 2003) and the Parenting Early Intervention Programme (Lindsay et
al 2011), yet within the literature, this model of parenting excludes the very groups
generally considered to be the most vulnerable. These groups tend not to be
consumers of parenting manuals and are often constrained in their ability to
45
respond to expert advice by their lack of resources. We are presented here with
the paradox that in communities where children are most likely to be perceived as
genuinely at risk there is the least likelihood of engagement with advice, wellfounded or otherwise (Nelson 2010 cited in Fairclough 2014; Valentine and
McKendrick, 1997).
Reporting on a two-year study using questionnaires and semi-structured
interviews to elicit parents’ attitudes toward children’s play, Valentine and
McKendrick (1997) noted that children’s experience of intensive parenting and the
restrictions it places upon them, is far from uniform. The intersection of class,
gender and ethnicity is evident in this realm. Furthermore, some of the fears
parents have for their children’s safety are, they claimed, quite realistic. Indeed,
children themselves can identify situations and places where they are likely to be
at risk (Pain 2006). It is important to note that arguments like that of Furedi’s (2001)
ignored the possibility that some of the improved outcomes for children that he
cites as reasons not to be overly concerned about their well-being may well, in
fact, have been consequences of the type of parenting he denounced. It is also
the case that Furedi was writing at a time prior to a plethora of large-scale historic
child abuse scandals focused on prominent figures located in trusted
organisations like the BBC, Church of England and children’s care homes.
Within this study, the model of the paranoid parent will be explored in relation to
the freedoms afforded children and the restrictions placed upon them. As will be
demonstrated later in this thesis, parent participants in this study certainly did
regulate their children’s access to unsupervised, outdoor play and their interaction
46
with other children. There is little evidence here, however, of parents actively
organising most of their children’s free time in the manner described by Furedi
(2001). Furthermore, while some of these parents speak of their hopes for their
children’s futures, these seem far less aspirational and structured than would be
expected of adults whose parenting might be described as ‘intensive’ (Valentine
and McKendrick 1997). Taking a poststructural feminist approach affords the
possibility of interrogating the impact of parents’ attitudes and actions on their
children’s social lives. It enables an exploration of the ways parents regulate their
children’s free time and friendships. This approach embraces the possibility of
contradictions and highlights the power relationships existent between adults and
children. It also provides the tools to deconstruct parents’ professed behaviours
and beliefs, and how they position themselves as “good parents”.
2.5 A question of innocence: sexuality and gender identity
The above flurry of reviews, reports and parenting manuals taking sexualisation,
commercialisation and the protection of childhood as their subject matter identify
some issues discussed by parents and teachers who participated in this research
(e.g. questions of innocence, class and gender); these are explored in Chapters 4
and 5. The question of gender identity was also raised in discussions with the
children who participated in this study (see Chapter 6). These subjects have
already been at the hub of previous feminist scholarly research, often focusing on
the lives of girls and young women in the later years of primary school and high
schools (Cowie and Lees 1981; Lees 1996; Renold 2007). For example, Cowie
and Lees (Cowie and Lees 1981; Lees 1996) explored the ‘Slags or Drags’ divide
that was later alluded to in Buckingham et al’s (2010) Report to the Scottish
47
Parliament. This was a small-scale study of 32 girls attending two Islington
comprehensives. Cowie and Lees sought to interrogate the girls’ varied and
changing understanding of the use of the term ‘slag’, the impact on girls who had
the term applied to them and the way the term was used by boys to construct
masculine identity and sexuality. Noting the class as well as gender dynamics at
play, they identified that the use of these terms was one of the main ways that
girls in these schools were subordinated. Lees concludes:
The policing of women through sexual reputation starts in
adolescence, where a girls’ sexual reputation is a constant source of
debate and gossip between boys and girls, as well as between
teachers and social workers. A girl’s standing can be destroyed by
insinuation about her sexual morality, a boys’ reputation in contrast is
usually enhanced by his sexual exploits. (Lees 1996: 1)
While little doubt is left in the research that regulation of sexuality is a primary form
of restricting girls’ entire identity and establishing their status among peers, other
work tends to suggest this occurs far earlier than adolescence (Renold 2005,
2007; Walkerdine 1997). Girls’ gender identities are so inextricably linked to their
sexual identities, in a way that boys’ are not, that it is of little importance whether
a girl has multiple, one or no sexual partners; what matters is her reputation.
Abusive terms like ‘slag’, ‘bitch’ and ‘whore’ are bandied about by both boys and
girls, but have little relation to actual knowledge of a girls’ sexual behaviour. It is
the impression a girl makes and what is said about her that determine whether
48
she enters the category of ‘slag’ or ‘drag’, with the only real escape from either
being to ‘catch’ a serious or long-term boyfriend.
In Daddy’s Girl (1997), Walkerdine builds upon her own life experiences and
focuses on working class girls’ identities and the ways in which these are partially
shaped by popular culture. Despite its production at the end of the Thatcher era,
with all its attendant ideological, political and social baggage, Walkerdine’s work
still speaks to us today. For Walkerdine, eroticised images of little (working-class)
temptresses litter television and film, some with ‘an attitude’ and knowingness.
These girls are at some level to be perceived as a threat. They are bad girls ready
to be redeemed, or victims who need to be saved. Yet, in popular consciousness
girls should be innocent, for childhood (girlhood) sexuality is deemed to be
unnatural.
Many authors accept the existence of a pressurised consumer culture with young
girls as the targets of advertising campaigns for clothing, make-up and magazines.
Online advertising, social media and the use of smartphones with cameras, for
example, are recognised as valuable resources that inform girls’ understanding of
what it means to be a “real” girl and “real” woman (Coy 2009; Egan 2013; Faulkner
2010; Renold and Ringrose 2013). It is only necessary to read the work of
Rebekah Willett (2007, 2008), itself rooted in poststructuralism, examining girls’
use of online fashion design websites to see that many of the contradictions facing
Walkerdine’s girls of the 1990s continue to confront the girls of the 21st Century.
Willett (2008) argued that girls draw upon a range of discourses (for example,
neoliberal, media, school and family) that simultaneously empower and restrict.
49
She presented a complex picture, where the girls she worked with were not merely
passive subjects, but reflective and active in their use of various media
representations of women and girls. Simultaneously, the girls interviewed were
critical of, whilst deriving a good deal of pleasure from, popular sources of
information. In a similar vein to the young people who participated in Buckingham
et al’s (2010) research, they too were also quick to censure parents who failed to
tackle their daughters about “inappropriate” behaviour, body treatment and dress.
The apparently clear-cut good girl / bad girl binary is far from straightforward or
easy to negotiate and much peer group discourse in schools is about maintaining
restricted forms of femininity (and masculinity). Reay’s (2001) small-scale study of
14 Year 3 girls attending an inner-London primary school illustrated the complexity
of female identities. Setting her work against an over-simplified political and media
furore about boys’ academic underachievement, Reay was quick to note that
although girls are generally heralded as the ‘success story’ of the current
education system there is far more at stake than the national curriculum and
examinations. She argued that girls’ informal learning is both significant and
‘potentially damaging’ (Reay 2001: 153); the traits that contribute to their academic
success at school leave them undervalued by their teachers and are not generally
well-regarded in the competitive environment of the workplace.
Although the hub of Reay’s research was a group of girls, she acknowledged that
both femininities and masculinities are only understandable in relation to one
another. She was, therefore, careful to explore ‘how a particular group of primaryaged girls is positioned, primarily in relation to dominant discourses of femininity
50
but also in relation to those of masculinity’ (Reay 2001:154). The girls in Reay’s
study divided themselves into four easily identifiable groups: ‘spice girls’, ‘nice
girls’, ‘girlies’ and ‘tomboys’, with some girls moving between groups. She
observed that every one of these identity groups helped bolster the hegemonic
form of masculinity and that the girls were persistently undermined and harassed
by the boys: especially boys of low status within their peer group.
Focusing on upper primary school children, Renold’s (2005) ethnographic study
of children’s gender and sexual cultures begins to address an important gap in the
literature. Others have begun to consider the subject of sexuality when
researching primary-aged children, but the depth of Renold’s work ensures that it
stands apart in this field of study (for example, Connolly 1998; Kehily 2002, 2012;
Kehily et al 2002; Redman et al 2002; Thorne 1993; Skelton 2001). As is the case
in this thesis, she assumed that children were both competent to participate in her
research and knowledgeable about their own social worlds. Renold drew primarily
on feminist poststructuralism and queer theory to interrogate children’s worlds
from the ‘children’s standpoint’ (Renold 2007: 12). By gathering data from
observations and friendship group interviews, Renold put children’s experiences
and perspectives at the centre of her research.
In her unstructured group
interviews with children, she provided a space for children to set the agenda,
which she explained ‘helped destabilise the adult-centrism embedded in many
research projects carried out with children, and went some way to promote
participation and empowerment during the research process’ (Renold 2005: 13).
The result is an illuminating account of the ways girls and boys do gender and
perform their sexual identities. Exploring themes that will be returned to throughout
51
this thesis, Renold identified school as a vital site for the construction of children’s
gendered and sexual identities and demonstrated its regulatory, heterosexist
nature. She also highlighted the ways children form and maintain relationships,
police sexual and gendered identities and explored gendered and sexual power
relationships among KS2 children.
The discourse of childhood innocence and “legitimate” girlhood and their impact
on adults’ attitudes toward the upbringing of their own children and the teaching
of SRE in the primary classroom will be addressed in Chapters 4 and 5. Echoing
Renold, in Chapter 6, children’s sexual and gendered relations are examined, but
in this case the focus is on much younger children. Themes identified above will
be revisited in children’s discussions of their friendships, girlfriend-boyfriend
relationships and their understanding of gendered identities. Children’s
attachment to stereotypical images of what it means to be a woman / man, girl /
boy is evident here, as is their commitment to their (hetero) sexual identities and
power relations between and within groups of girls and boys.
2.6 Children at play
I view children’s involvement in play and the manner they appropriate the physical
space of the playground as vehicles for the active construction of gendered and
sexual identities. Play and playground interaction has been the focus of much
research into children’s social lives (Blatchford et al 2003; Browne and Ross 1995;
Clark and Paechter 2007; Epstein et al 2001; Grugeon 1993; Karsten 2003; Marsh
2000; Martin at al 1999; Martin 2011; McGuffey and Rich 1999; Paley 1984;
Paechter and Clark 2007a, 2007b; Renold 1997, 2006; Swain 2003; Thorne
52
1993). In this instance, I have chosen not to observe children at play, but to talk
to them about their playtimes (both in and out of school) with the aim of exposing
the nature of their interactions and games and interrogating the importance of
these in developing children’s understanding of gender and sexuality. In doing so,
I have decided to put the children’s interpretations of their social worlds at the
heart of this work.
The nature and purpose of children’s play and children’s use of the playground
have been examined by researchers working within a sociology of childhood
framework that regards children as competent social beings. For example,
Corsaro’s (2003) ethnographic studies in the US and Italy examined children’s
cultures from the perspective of those young children, attempting to put aside his
adult viewpoint. His work exposed the active, often collective nature, of their
appropriation of aspects of adults’ culture to create something unique to childhood
and meaningful in its own right. In addition, he pointed out, children are part of an
adult culture to which they contribute.
It is common for researchers to identify the segregated nature of children’s play
(Blatchford, et al 2003; Clark and Paechter 2007; Connolly 1995; Grugeon 1993;
Jordan 1995; Martin 2011; Paechter and Clark 2007a; Paley 1984; Thorne 1993).
Girls’ games are frequently characterised as calm, as having a physical closeness
or intimacy, involving domestic or fairytale role play, songs and clapping games.
Boys’ play, by way of contrast, is characterised as boisterous, aggressive and
violent. Boys engage in fantasy role play, football and shows of physicality in their
play, and occupy playground space at the expense of girls. For many writers,
53
children’s engagement in play is part of the process of constructing and
expressing their gendered and sexual identities, rather than a natural expression
of innate characteristics (Blatchford, et al 2003; Clark and Paechter 2007;
Connolly 1995; Grugeon 1993; Jordan 1995; Martin 2011; Paechter and Clark
2007a; Paley 1984; Thorne 1993). Within the context of an education system
steeped in compulsory heterosexuality, the playground is also the place where
those identities are regulated and power relations, quite literally, played out
(Epstein et al 2001).
Paley’s (1984) reflections on a year of teaching in an American kindergarten
focused on children’s play both in and outside of the classroom. Paley’s transcripts
of children’s interaction with each other and with her provide a window into her
classroom through which the reader can draw conclusions about both her practice
and children’s engagement in gendered activities. However, Paley herself offered
little more than a description of events and did not offer much formal analysis of
play episodes. Although she noted that when children first come to school they
are more willing to play a broad range of games in mixed groups than just a year
later, she offered no coherent explanation of this phenomenon. Rather, her
reflections seem to have led her to accept the inevitability of gender dualism and
by the end of her project she came to the realisation that she felt greater sympathy
with boys’ modes of play. She concluded: ‘Let the boys be robbers, then, or tough
guys in space. It is the natural universal, and essential play of little boys’ (Paley
1984: 116). What concerned her was the ways girls interacted with one another
and with the boys. She also admonished herself for creating a space that is
possibly too “in-tune” with the girls.
54
By way of contrast, Thorne (1993), in her ethnographic work in US schools
conducted in the 1970s and 1980s, rejected both an essentialist perspective and
the idea of children as being passively socialised as gendered beings. For Thorne,
school playgrounds are an area where children segregate themselves more than
elsewhere. In classrooms children have only very limited control over who they
mix with. In local neighbourhoods, where the choice of playmates is likely to be
restricted, they are more likely to engage in mixed-gender play than at school.
Thus, it is in the crowded school playground that they undertake the ‘borderwork’:
those interactions that simultaneously cross and maintain gender boundaries and
power relations (Thorne 1993: 64-88).
Martin (2011) also employed a feminist poststructuralist approach to refute the
idea that children make gendered choices in play because they are essentially
different. While gender was central to her work, she also acknowledged the
intersection of different dimensions of identity. Having worked for two years in an
early years setting in London and undertaken participant observation, Martin
advanced a social justice agenda. Using the concept of local ‘communities of
practice’ previously explored by Clark and Paechter (2007), where understandings
of femininity and masculinity are jointly constructed, Martin demonstrated the
importance of understanding the ‘rules’ of play. She explained that boys learn,
often from older, more experienced children, that they should play superheroes,
football and with construction equipment; they should show their physical strength
and avoid physical contact with girls (unless to push them aside or torment them).
Girls, on the other hand, learn to take their place in the community of femininity by
55
playing with other girls. Although often competing with one another, they engage
in cooperative role play, with domestic or fairytale themes rather than super
heroes and battles. They talk about and regulate their own appearance and that
of others. They also seek the approval of adults with their ‘good girl’ stance and
draw attention to the boys’ violent games and ‘silly’ behaviour (Martin 2011: 124).
Yet, this gives the boys, who exploit their “naturally” aggressive and dominating
image, the upper hand in playground power relations. Martin asserted that among
the children she observed within a heteronormative environment, attempts at
border crossing were frequently policed by other children.
Football has become a particular focus for those examining girls’ and boys’
occupation of playground space and its importance for boys’ construction of
masculinity (Clark and Paechter 2007; Epstein et al 2001; Paechter and Clark
2007a; Renold 1997; Skelton 1997; Swain 2000, 2004). Drawing on Connell’s
concept of hegemonic masculinity, both Renold (1997) and Swain (2000, 2004)
argue that being a good footballer is a key component of being a real, heterosexual
boy. For Swain (2000, 2004), success in sport, especially football, enables boys
to gain status (over subordinate boys and all girls) and to construct their identities
around physical skill and athletic bodies. To lack success at football, means that
boys will be marked as ‘feminine’ and susceptible to physical and verbal abuse
(Renold 1997).
Similarly, Paechter and Clark (2007a) have argued that physical space and the
way children are organised within it, along with the involvement of adults in
children’s play have an impact upon the way children do gender. Among the Upper
56
KS2 children they observed at Holly Bank Primary School, where children’s games
went unmanaged by adults, football had become a key signifier of dominant
masculinity. This meant that girls were exempt from playing football and thereby
from much of the available space that was overrun by footballing boys. While the
boys’ physical command of the space was occasionally undercut by ‘cool girls’
walking into games, generally these girls supported the boys’ dominance by
judging the motives of any girl who tried to take part not as an interest in the game
but in the boys.
By way of contrast, arrangements at Benjamin Laurence Primary School were
quite different. The play space was smaller and a teacher had actively encouraged
the Year 5 girls to play football and participate in school tournaments. Despite this,
the boys continued to exclude girls from their games. They were unable to
physically shut them out, so instead they would police the boundary between girls
and boys by refusing to pass to them, always placing them in defensive positions,
and picking girls last when choosing teams; ‘girls’ achievements in football were
consistently belittled’ (Paechter and Clark 2007a: 324). Those girls who were
considered skilled were ‘said to be able to play ‘like a boy’’ (Clark and Paechter
2007a: 264). This behaviour meant that when the teacher who supported them
left the school, most of the girls ceased to involve themselves in the game.
The consequence of the dominance of football in these playgrounds was that, for
girls who were excluded and for boys who either performed poorly at the game or
simply did not want to join in, the available physical space was limited. This also
meant that the options in terms of activities available to these children were
57
similarly narrowed. It also meant that for all children, the gendered zoning of
playgrounds restricted the possibility of mixed gender play. Finally, it ensured that
boys dominated the playground, a dominance that was replicated in other school
spaces, like classrooms and corridors.
The themes of fantasy play, football and the occupation of playground space are
particularly pertinent here as the playground at BCP was a prime location for
children to engage in these forms of play. While the playground space was subject
to regulation, it was also a site of relative freedom. It was here that children were
at their most free to choose who they played with and how they played. It was, in
part, through playground games that the children performed complex, sometimes
contradictory and fluid subjectivities. They segregated themselves and were
segregated by others into hegemonic, subordinate and marginalised groupings.
This was where children engage in transgressions of gender identity and where
these were policed by others: these were small, most often fleeting disruptions of
the heterosexual matrix. As will be shown in Chapter 6, the playground was a
prime site for these children to express and develop their gendered and sexual
identities among their peers.
2.7 The sex education debate
If, what and how sex education should be taught at BCP were central questions
for the adults who took part in this study (see Chapters 4 and 5). These are
contentious subjects within schools and beyond. Although parents largely agreed
with the need for SRE, they expressed reticence about certain aspects that were
rooted within the discourse of childhood innocence, while teachers frequently
58
talked about children’s levels of maturity. Both groups of adults talked about the
need to use education as a tool for social change, particularly to tackle
homophobia and to give children an understanding of the relationships they
encountered in their daily lives. At the same time, however, their thinking was
firmly located within a hegemonic discourse of heterosexuality.
Feminist scholars have for some time been highly critical of the provision of sex
education and sex and relationships education for young people. Their discontent
has often been related to the perspectives outlined above and led to calls for a
change of approach. Over time, a strong argument for contextualizing the sex
education of children and young people has developed (Alldred and David 2007;
Halstead and Reiss 2003; Halstead and Waite 2001; Lees 1994; Measor 2004;
Measor, Tiffin and Miller 2000; Trudell 1993). For those formulating and delivering
SRE, they contend, there is an imperative to gain an understanding of the
‘changing social worlds girls and boys inhabit,’ how they make sense of it, their
values and the different ways that they communicate with one another (Lees 1994:
281). Measor, Tiffin and Miller have gone further in their explicit statement that
‘appropriate sex education requires a grasp of theory relating both to adolescent
sexuality and to its connections with gender and theory’ (2000: 2).
Basing her assertions on the outcomes of interviews with students in London
comprehensive schools, Lees (1994) noted the marked difference in the ways girls
and boys talk about sex and relationships, and in the content of that talk. Gender
roles, body images and in-grained attitudes towards sex and their importance to
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the education process were explored here and, Lees argued, should be taken
account of when considering content and pedagogy for sex education.
Reflecting wider concerns within education, fears that boys have not responded
well to existing sex education programmes have led Hilton (2001, 2003, 2007) to
examine the type and style of SRE from which they would gain most benefit. To
this end, she has explored issues related to boys and sex education, far from
dissimilar to those debated around boys’ education in general, and centred some
of her research on the characteristics of those delivering SRE, and asked boys
what they expected of their teachers. Gathering her data from boys older than 16,
she embarked on a series of questionnaires and focus group interviews to create
a profile of the most effective and acceptable SRE teacher. Hilton examined the
supposed preferred learning styles of boys, their attitude to SRE (that it is
something for girls), and the subject’s low priority in terms of finance, training and
timetabling. In this she has, in many ways, mirrored the work of those who address
the issue of boys’ education in general (for example, Haywood and Mac an Ghaill
2001; Martino 1999; Mills 2001).
While Hilton’s (2001, 2003, 2007) results were far from conclusive, a general view
did emerge that highly trained, approachable teachers who students could trust to
maintain confidentiality were essential if boys were to take seriously and reap the
benefits of SRE. She has not considered, however, if girls might want something
different from their teachers. Issues of whether outsiders should be employed to
teach boys and whether mixed or single sex classes would be favourable were
areas where agreement was lacking. Within Hilton’s work, boys (and by
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implication girls too) tend to be presented as a broadly homogeneous group, which
other researchers have repeatedly demonstrated not to be the case (for example,
Francis, Skelton and Read 2010; Mac an Ghaill 1994; Renold 2006; Willis 1977).
Her research was also firmly rooted in the notion that boys and girls need
something different from sex education.
Measor et al (2000) take the reader beyond the straightforward view that girls and
boys react differently to sex education and the implications of that, to a more indepth examination of gender cultures and their implications. Indeed, the issue of
gender is returned to repeatedly in feminist works, with explorations of how the
content and mode of sex education privileges a dominant heterosexual male
discourse and excludes discussion of pleasure, desire and intimacy (Alldred and
David 2007; Fine 1988; Hirst 2013; Jackson and Weatherall 2010; Sundaram and
Saunston 2016). This exclusionary approach to teaching, they argue, reinforces
ideas of a male sexual imperative and female passivity, denies girls and women
and LGBT+ young people a right to pleasure and delegitimises alternatives to
penetrative sex.
Halstead and Waite (2001) conducted one of the few studies into sex education
and children’s sexual attitudes in primary schools and advance a view on the
shape it should take. Emphasising the importance of engaging with pupils’ prior
knowledge, experience and attitudes, they advocated a values-based approach
to SRE, but did so with a note of caution. Having interviewed pupils in mixed- and
single-sex groupings they were surprised to find, like Lees (1994), very real
differences in the attitudes and values toward sex education of nine- and ten-year
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old boys and girls and considered the possible implications for sex education. Girls
relied heavily on their families for information about sex, placed sex and
relationships together under one banner and exhibited genuine thoughtfulness
about their futures, expressing values that were reflected in government policy
regarding SRE at the time. Boys, however, while talking a lot about the “facts”
(often erroneously) of sexual relationships approached the subject in a jokey,
macho manner and tended to link sex and violence. All these factors, Halstead
and Waite (2001) pointed out, need to be considered by policy-makers and
practitioners when thinking about the content and delivery of SRE, and perhaps
add weight to Hilton’s view that boys need something different than girls.
Approaching the issue of sex education for young children, or lack thereof,
Granger (2007) reflected on the very deliberate absence of sexual imagery in a
kindergarten classroom. For example, classrooms might have images of the body
on their walls with hands, feet, head, etc. labelled, but with the genitalia missing.
Although writing from a psychoanalytic viewpoint, Granger’s work echoed themes
put forward by Walkerdine (1997) in relation to young girls’ identities. In doing so,
she also explored adult avoidance of sexual conversations and expression around
young children and by extension implications for sex education. She also
discussed the reinforcement of adult notions of childhood innocence and in
education a tendency to see ‘childhood sexual curiosity . . . as something best
ignored, or at least controlled’ (Granger, 2007: 2). This absence or avoidance, she
claimed, serves not so much to protect children as to protect adults. Furthermore,
this approach is doomed to failure since the ‘little sex researchers pursue their
investigations despite aims to thwart them’ (Granger 2007:12).
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Sex education cannot be divorced from the wider social and political context, as
Trudell discussed in her ethnographic study of ninth grade sex education classes
in the USA, Doing Sex Education (1993). Here, she clearly demonstrated that
despite the intentions of policy makers and practitioners, students bring their own
agendas, experiences and perceptions to the classroom. They are active in
constructing the classroom experiences. Thus, no matter how the subject is
taught, it is difficult to guarantee how it is received.
Using data gleaned from a Local Educational Authority funded action research
project which aimed to raise the standard and ‘status of SRE’ in secondary
schools, Alldred and David (2007: 16) developed and expanded some of the
above themes. In this, they employed feminist poststructuralist approaches to
explore the opinions of professional constituencies and young people about SRE
and propose a way forward for feminist SRE. Despite locating their study within
secondary education, many of their observations and conclusions apply equally
to the primary setting. They identified the tendency to regard young people as
nonsexual as problematic when adults think about sex education. This must be
even more so the case when we consider SRE for young children.
What clearly emerges from much of this literature is the almost exclusively
heterosexual nature of teenage discourse, the SRE young people receive and the
informal sexual arena they occupy (Alldred and Davis 2007; Formby 2011; Haggis
and Mulholland 2014; Jackson and Weatherall 2010). Homosexuality is all but
invisible (at least if we exclude homophobia and homophobic bullying from the
63
discussion). As Alldred and David (2007) highlighted, SRE is developed and
delivered within a heteronormative social framework. This means that LGBT+
identities are located as Other and that hegemonic masculinity dominates nonhegemonic masculinities and femininities. It is also a ‘specific site for the
construction of young people’s gendered and sexual identities (Alldred and Davis
2007: 6). This led them to present suggestions for how SRE might be reshaped in
a feminist form.
As this study will show, particularly through the discussions with children
discussed in Chapter 6, some of the principles of the approach to SRE proposed
by Alldred and David (2007) would serve primary children as well as teenagers.
The need to recognise young people’s lived experiences and their legitimate
emotions, to explore sexuality and to develop the ability to think critically about
gendered relations and all types of relationships all apply equally to SRE for
children and young people of all ages. It is also necessary for the focus of the
curriculum to be developed in conjunction with pupils to meet their needs and to
avoid the proliferation of misinformation on the playground (see also Allen 2005),
and important to raise the standing of SRE within schools in the face of a
competitive achievement-driven agenda.
When discussing with parents and teachers their feelings and thoughts about the
way forward for sex education at BCP many of the themes identified above were
central to the discussion, or notable by their absence. The above work has
informed some of my own thinking about what teachers and parents should
consider when proposing the way forward with sex education for young children.
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This, alongside my own conversations with the children who participated in this
study, has reinforced my conviction that children should receive an SRE
experience for and as part of their lived experience as children, not merely for their
presumed future as sexually active individuals.
2.8 Conclusion
The theoretical approaches outlined in section 2.2 have frequently been employed
by feminist scholars seeking to illuminate sexual and gendered identities and
power relationships in schools. Consequently, a number of important, recurring
themes have arisen from the literature that will be further explored in the following
empirical chapters. The tenacious ubiquity of the heterosexual matrix, and the
uneven power relationships between adults and children, boys and girls,
masculine and feminine, and the idea of presumed heterosexuality will be
discussed. Hegemonic masculinity, and the position of hegemonic femininity as
proposed by Paechter (2018) will also be explored in Chapter 6. The power of the
discourses of childhood innocence and of the good parent will also be examined
and the impact of these on the provision of SRE will be returned to.
There are, however, significant gaps in the feminist literature and studies located
within the sociology of childhood, particularly in terms of the examination of young
children’s sexual identities and relations. There is a real need to explore young
children’s construction of their identities and their conceptions of their social
worlds. If SRE is to be effective then it must be built on children’s prior knowledge
and understanding. It must also, I propose, address imbalances in social relations
rather than serve to perpetuate these. Furthermore, although SRE is a contentious
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arena for debate, related scholarly work reflecting on primary school education is
relatively scant. The impact of adult perceptions, those of teachers and parents,
of children’s social and educational needs affect the type of SRE young people
experience and, as such, this merits further exploration. Working within a feminist
poststructuralist framework, and reflecting upon concepts of hegemonic
masculinity, performativity and the heterosexual matrix, these are themes that I
take up and develop in this thesis.
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Chapter 3: Research Design
Most children worked hard to locate themselves firmly as either girl or boy. For
some, however, there was a clear sense of ambiguity and uncertainty:
Alex (age 7) wrote in his science book:
“I want to know if I’m a boy or a girl.”
3.1 Introduction
Giving voice to children and adults, enabling these participants to share their
experiences and opinions, and accepting and making evident their differing
perspectives with the aim of bringing about a localised change in practice to the
benefit of a marginalised group (the children) form the basis of this research
project. This chapter offers a rationale for the research methods used in this study
demonstrating how a feminist poststructuralist perspective underpinned the
research questions, methods of gathering, analysing and presenting data, and the
ethical considerations for this thesis.
The stories, opinions and insights that are explored throughout this thesis are
representative of a particular time and place. The children who took part in this
study would soon move on to KS2 classes, and in some cases other schools.
Likewise, parents effectively left KS1 along with their children (although some
families had younger children who would later feel the impact of the work
undertaken here). The teachers were more firmly rooted in the school, but some
would take up different roles or assume positions in other schools. Even within the
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year groups studied, the perspectives gathered from parents and children were
confined to those who agreed to take part. Nevertheless, exploring in significant
detail the complexities of the ways in which the experiences and identities of
children, parents and teachers interacted has clear implications for practice in this
school and elsewhere. Whilst every school is different, the complexity of the issues
covered in this study is likely to resonate with the experiences of those involved in
the design and delivery of SRE everywhere.
At the heart of this project lie two fundamental and intertwined methodological
challenges that could potentially undermine both its validity and ethical integrity.
First, the ethical and practical considerations when researching children’s lives,
and, secondly, my role as a teacher-researcher were fraught was potential pitfalls
due to the inherently unbalanced power relationships that characterised the
research process. These issues, alongside broader ethical considerations, and
methods of data-gathering and analysis will be considered in this chapter.
Section 3.2 briefly explains the significance of a feminist poststructural approach
to this research. In order to contextualise this work, section 3.3 provides a
description of the setting in which this research was undertaken. In section 3.4,
the benefits and challenges of being a teacher-researcher are explored. Within
this, for the feminist researcher, the importance of a reflexive approach and an
examination of complex power relationships within the research are identified and
explored.
Section 3.4 contains a brief synopsis of shifting patterns in research on and with
children before moving on to consider, in section 3.6, the ethical issues arising in
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this research. Within this there is a particular focus on those aspects of ethical
practice that relate to working with children and the issue of consent.
Within poststructural feminist research, the use of focus groups as an appropriate
method for data gathering is discussed in section 3.7, identifying some distinct
advantages in terms of power relations, the collaborative construction of meaning
and opportunities in terms of analysis. This is then followed by three sections, 3.83.10, each centred on one pool of participants: teachers, parents and then
children. Here the make-up of the groups is outlined and the processes of the
focus groups set out.
In section 3.11 the process of data capture and analysis are outlined, including a
rationale for the approaches employed. The chapter concludes by reflecting on
some of the aims of conducting the research process in this manner. These
include the desire to uncover complexity of meaning located within the data, the
desire to empower participants by privileging their voices within the presentation
of the thesis, and the drive to encourage change within the social setting of BCP
both through curriculum development and by giving participants the opportunity to
reflect upon and develop their own ways of thinking.
3.2 Feminist poststructuralism
As Gavey (1989, p.462) points out: ‘Poststructuralist theory rejects the possibility
of absolute truth and objectivity.’ Rather, individuals have their own ‘truths’ and
interpretations of their own realities. While an individual’s truths may carry
authentic meaning for them, it does not follow that this truth is fixed or holds
universal meaning. Within a society where men hold the balance of power and the
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‘male version of knowledge and truth’ is consequently dominant, this must be
deconstructed (Francis 2001, p.68).
The desire to examine the ways in which children’s gender and sexuality are
constituted through language, social interactions and institutions is a central
concern of this research. The use of a feminist poststructuralist approach within
this context is apt, therefore, since it is through an understanding of the discourses
of age, gender, sexuality and innocence and an examination of the ways in which
these are present and reinforced in individuals’ talk and behaviours that it is
possible to illuminate how these identities and associated power relations have
been essentialised. It also opens the way for these to be challenged and disrupted
(Davies and Banks 1995; Gavey 1989; Francis 2001; Weedon 1987).
3.3 The setting
When I undertook my fieldwork for this project, I had been employed for four years
as a KS1 teacher at Brookbank Community Primary School (BCP). This was a
larger than average primary school located on the outskirts of a town in the
Midlands. Despite the area’s semi-rural, affluent image, the school’s pupil profile
was in line with the national average in terms of the proportion of pupil premium
children, the standard generally used by the DfE to measure levels of deprivation
and trigger additional funding. In fact, the school was located in a relatively
impoverished area of the county, with significant levels of under- and
unemployment, and it was clear from talking to many parents that they saw
themselves as ‘struggling’ financially because they fell just outside of the criteria
70
to be eligible for additional state benefits, either due to working too many hours or
because their salaries were just beyond the threshold for this kind of assistance.
BCP had approximately 500 pupils on roll, but was oversubscribed due to its
excellent reputation in the local community, high levels of pupil attainment, and
three successive “outstanding” Ofsted reports. On site, there was a nursery and
each subsequent year group had two forms. Allied with this there was an
independently run before and after school club for the pupils. Despite BCP’s high
level of success, it was evident from conversations with longstanding members of
staff that there was a growing perception that the school’s intake was becoming
more challenging both behaviourally and academically. Partly resulting from an
effective policy of early intervention, there were relatively few pupils appearing on
the school’s special needs register. This meant that many children who might have
been categorised as having special educational needs in other schools were not
given an individual education plan (IEP) (replaced in 2014 by more holistic
Education, Health and Care Plans), and so the figure for those appearing on the
SEN register remained relatively low.
A vast majority of pupils were white-British, although a few (mostly Polish and
Chinese) had English as an additional language. Looking beyond official figures,
the school’s intake was very mixed in terms of socio-economic class, mostly
drawing pupils both from the remains of what was once a sprawling area of social
housing and some smaller, newly built housing estates appealing to professionals
and skilled workers (mostly employed in local factories and at the nearby hospital),
many with young families. Unlike some other studies of aspects of young
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children’s social lives (e.g. Connolly 1998; Renold 2005), the focus here was not
on a school in a semi-rural setting nor an inner-city school with a very challenging
intake. The school was not ethnically diverse; almost all the children spoke English
(even if it was their second or third language), and there was a mix of social
backgrounds.
At the time the project was undertaken, children at BCP received no SRE until
Year 5. It was then that the girls received a visit from the school nurse for a lesson
on puberty. In Year 6, this was developed further as part of the preparation for
secondary school, with girls and boys being educated separately.
3.4 My role as a teacher-researcher in the research
For the feminist researcher involved in interpretative qualitative research, their
‘own experiences are an integral part of the research’ (Stanley and Wise 1993:
60). The experience of doing the research must be conscious and elucidated, as
should those experiences and values that the researcher brings to the process
(Leavy 2007a; Ramazanoglu and Holland 2002; Stanley and Wise 1993).
The desire to value and empower participants was at the heart of the research
process. However, it needs to be acknowledged that research relationships were
not symmetrical (Edwards and Mauthner 2012). Furthermore, the interests of
some constituencies / individuals within the project were sometimes in conflict with
one another. In part, these issues can be illustrated in terms of my own role. The
problems of balancing my role as teacher with that of researcher were both
practical and ethical (Bell and Nutt 2012). As a teacher in the school I might well
72
be viewed as an “insider” with privileged knowledge and status. However, a rigid
insider / outsider positioning was a false dichotomy. My role was subject to shifts
and overlaps, as were those of participants, in the process of gathering data
(Naples 1996). It was necessary to negotiate my position with individuals within
groups on an ongoing basis throughout the research process, and ultimately to
decide whose voices to give prominence in the analysis and presentation of data
(Hertz 1996).
In my capacity as a class teacher I could be viewed as holding the power in this
research process, but the situation was far from straightforward. For example,
when interviewing a governor (as a member of a parent focus group) I was
effectively undertaking research with my employer who could withdraw support
from and stop the project at any time. Similarly, my line manager and the school’s
deputy headteacher took part in focus group interviews. Again, their backing was
vital if the project were to continue. We all occupied multiple, intersecting positions
in terms of professional status, class, gender, ethnicity and so on, and these power
relations could potentially have had an impact on my ability to proceed with my
fieldwork.
I also needed to acknowledge that these boundaries were as blurred for me as
they were for the participants (Cohen, Manion and Morrison 2011). As Connolly
(2008: 174) points out:
[T]he research process is inevitably the product of the relationships
forged between the researcher and the research participants and will
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therefore ultimately reflect the decisions made and the approaches
taken by the researcher as well as the particular responses adopted
by the participants to these.
Many researchers regard the success of their ethnographic fieldwork to be
contingent upon their acceptance by the group of children they are studying, if not
as one of the group at least as an adult who is not the type of authority figure that
usually appears in their daily lives (Christensen 2004; Hey 1997; Renold 2005;
Rhedding-Jones 1996; Thorne 1993). While it may never be possible to
completely break away from the power relations inherent in minority group
research, in this case there was the additional consideration of the power-laden
positions that comes from being an adult and researcher and a teacher. In this
capacity, I had already formed relationships with participants before commencing
this research, and it is arguable that the trust I had built during my time teaching
at the school meant that people were more willing to take part than might otherwise
have been the case. These established associations also meant that I needed to
re-forge my relationships with participants in the alternative image of a researcher,
maintaining and consciously managing multiple positions simultaneously.
Within the focus groups, participants were already familiar with one another and
with me. This meant that in their conversations participants tended to draw upon
shared, pre-existing knowledge. In particular, children spoke to each other and to
me rightly assuming prior knowledge of their lives, using this as a starting point for
their talk. In many instances, I already had a considerable amount of information
about children’s families, their friendships, the difficulties they had with other
74
children, and of their romantic relationships. I had witnessed their interactions and
we had already talked about aspects of their lives that were returned to in focus
group discussions.
Given the children’s approach to their discussions and to make sense of these, I
decided that it was important to draw upon knowledge that I had accumulated over
a long period of time and to include some contextual information that was not
directly addressed within focus group meetings. To have repeatedly asked for
clarification when children were aware that I already knew about the subject of
their conversation would make no sense to them and risked stalling the
discussion. However, in providing the additional narrative, I was aware of the
possibility that providing the reader with too much contextual information might
lead to children being identifiable within the text. With this in mind, I have been
cautious with the detail of the additional commentary and analysis provided.
I soon realised that for the adult participants I occupied three roles: those of
researcher, teacher and “expert”, sometimes leading them to ask me questions
about the status of SRE in the school, research into gender, policy issues or how
I might deal with a variety of scenarios should they arise in my classroom. In each
case this presented me with a dilemma. I could not pretend that I did not occupy
these three roles but did not want to influence the outcomes of focus groups by
expressing opinions or relating my own experiences as an authority figure.
However, not to respond to participants’ queries would have appeared rude and
been potentially damaging to the research process, and I did consider myself to
be working with not on parents and colleagues in the research process. I decided
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to restrict myself to fact rather than opinion-based responses but beyond that I
took each instance on its own merits, taking into account the dynamics of the
group as well as the question at the time in the hope that this would ensure
participants felt that they owned the dialogue.
Likewise, the children clearly still viewed me very much as a particularly interested
teacher, most happily responding to my questions and prompts for information and
viewpoints. Unlike the adults participating in the research, however, they did not
consult me for my opinion or raise questions about my experiences: something
they would frequently do in a classroom or playground setting. Indeed, away from
the usual classroom dynamics, they did not seem to be troubled by criticising the
practice of adults in the school when it came to playground discipline and
sanctions. For example, when discussing rough play at break-times some of the
boys explained why they would not come to me with the problem when they came
back into class:
Mick: But I wasn’t going to tell them off. Because they would say, “I was
playing.”
Bobby: Yeah. Mick stopped me telling them off, ‘cause it’s not nice telling
people off.
Mick: ‘cause we just get in, and, you know when you have to sort the boys out.
And we just get called up. And we just miss our playtimes talking about it, so
what’s the point of going to tell people off?
Jeremy: When we’re going to get told off as well.
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Bobby: Yeah. And when people just tell them off they just lie to the teacher and
say they haven’t done anything.
Jeremy: Yeah.
With each group of participants there came an expectation of my role and prior
relationships that needed to be forged anew within this unfamiliar context.
Throughout the research process I constantly reflected on my role and on the
impact of the research process upon the participants.
3.5 Research with children
The children at the heart of this study were drawn from two Year 1 and two Year
2 classes, each comprising 30 children. The intention was for children to be
participants rather than the objects of study, with their understandings of their
public and private worlds being illuminated through their discussion. Rather than
imposing adult perspectives and interpretations on childhood behaviour and
discourse, the focus would be on the children as social actors with their own ways
of viewing the world.
Until the mid-1990s most childhood research was rooted in a developmental
approach with its foundations in psychology (Hood et al 1996; Mayall 2001;
Renold 2005). This perspective had a number of consequences for the research
undertaken during the period. It led to a methodology that meant research was on
children, rather than for or with them. Research also tended to individualise
children, rather than presenting them in a social setting as social actors and often
77
pictured them as ‘vulnerable incompetents or deviants, either at the mercy of or
posing a risk to adult social worlds’ (Hood et at 1996: 118).
Christensen and Prout (2002) chart the ways that research on and with children
might be categorised and how it has changed over time. They identify four (not
necessarily distinct) ways of treating children in research: children as objects;
children as subjects; children as social actors and children as ‘participants and coresearchers’ (Christensen and Prout 2002: 480). Traditionally, children have been
regarded as vulnerable, in need of protection, lacking competence, unreliable, and
have not been recognised as social actors in their own right. Usually the adults
around them, for example teachers, parents, social workers, are canvassed for
their perspectives while those of the children remain unacknowledged. However,
increasingly the approach has moved to regarding children as subjects and social
agents, promoting methodologies giving children and their perspectives an
increasingly central position, as separate entities from families or schools. Finally,
the idea of children as active participants or co-researchers has begun to gain
ground.
This more recent approach, taking children beyond the status of object in
childhood research, has gained more traction in sociology in the wake of an
increased focus on other marginalised groups, including women and LGBT+
communities. Feminist research methodologies have informed the study of
children as active social beings, and explorations of children’s lives from within the
sociology of childhood have served to illuminate social divisions and structures of
power (e.g. Corsaro 2011; Mayall 2002; Renold 2005; Thorne 1987, 1993).
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However, this is not to say that other approaches are not valid. Indeed, as Hill
(1997: 172) notes:
. . . research that directly involves children is not necessarily superior
to or more desirable than other kinds of research. The value and
appropriateness of any one method depends on the purpose of the
research . . .
Nonetheless, if this project were to be of value it would be essential to understand
children as social agents, setting their own agendas, developing their own
perceptions and acting upon their social world. To take them as mere objects
would give only a limited and distorted picture of their experiences and
understanding of their relationships with their peers. It would also replicate the
disempowered social positioning of children within wider society. Only through
talking to children, rather than just to their teachers, parents and other adults that
children come into contact with on a daily basis, could anything approaching an
understanding of children’s gendered and sexualised behaviour and identities be
reached. Drawing upon Keddie’s (2004) and Renold’s (2005) research using
friendship groups interviews, it became clear that the use of these approaches to
data gathering would provide a space for children to discuss those issues that
they considered to be important, to set the agenda and to represent their own
experiences in their own way. While, as part of my research, I had questions of
my own, it was my desire to value children’s experiences and to understand what
they wanted to share about their opinions and lives.
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3.6 Ethical issues
For this research, I followed Britsih Educational Research Association’s (BERA)
(2011) Ethical Guidelines for Educational, and gained the approval of the
University Ethics Committee (Appendix 2). However, broadly rooted in a feminist
‘ethics of care’ research model, the ethical concerns for this research design went
beyond the standard institutionalised requirements (Edwards and Mauthner 2012;
Naples 1996). My approach was one in which all constituencies were respected
as comprising individuals with valuable experience and knowledge, and focus
groups were forums in which to share these.
Initially, I sought permission from the school’s headteacher and governors and all
participants in the research process gave consent (see Appendices 3-10).
Participants were assured that they would remain anonymous and that the data
generated would be stored securely. However, in the case of the children I needed
to clearly explain that if they told me something that I thought meant they were
unsafe in any way I would need to tell the school’s family liaison worker. At the
end of the focus group sessions all participants were invited to choose
pseudonyms for themselves; all the children did this and around half of the
teachers. I assigned the remainder their pseudonyms. Throughout this thesis I
have referred to the young participants as “children” rather than “pupils”. The
reason for this is that I seek to identify them as holistic beings with a life within and
outside of school in which they are positioned and position themselves as more
than just learners within a single, power-laden institution.
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As in this instance, research on / with children often takes place in schools. This
context presents the researcher with particular ethical issues on a number of
levels, but most particularly related to consent and power (David, Edwards and
Alldred 2001; Edwards and Alldred 1999; Hill, Laybourn and Borland 1996; Hood
Kelley and Mayall 1996; Morrow and Richards 1996; Phelan and Kinsella 2013).
Writing in 1994, Lansdowne (cited in Morrow and Richards 1996: 97) asserts that
children are both ‘inherently vulnerable because of their physical weakness, and
lack of knowledge and experience’ and ‘structurally vulnerable’ due to their lack of
economic and political resources and rights. Within this context, she claims that
children’s voices and experiences are neglected within society and social
research. While over time children have increasingly become a focus of social
research and of the process as participants, Lansdowne’s assertions still contain
some truth. This is especially the case when we consider the question of structural
vulnerability and research situated in schools, where children’s power is
traditionally limited.
To undermine the view of children as Other, Oakley (1994) asserts the need for
them to be treated similarly to adults, although this logically leads to the viewpoint
that ethically the same considerations should be extended to both children and
adults. Moreover, it is incumbent on the researcher to recognise children as
members of different ethnic, gendered and class groupings and to represent what
they say and do accurately. Similarly, Christensen and Prout discuss ethical
issues relating to treating children as social actors and participants in research
and advocate working with ‘‘ethical symmetry’ between children and adults’ (2002:
478). In other words, the fundamental ethical principles within research are the
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same whether it is conducted with adults or children. This also means that any
differences between carrying out research with children or with adults should be
allowed to arise from this starting point, according to the concrete situation of
children, rather than being assumed in advance (Christian and Prout 2002: 482).
Conducting research in school might lead a researcher to judge competence on
the basis of age or year group, as this is how schools are organised, and to decide
that those children in the first years of their schooling are automatically less
competent to take part in research than those in older year groups (David,
Edwards and Alldred 2001). Christensen and Prout (2002) take up Bauman’s
(1993) argument that although children should not necessarily be viewed as
‘vulnerable’ or ‘incompetent', ‘taking responsibility means entering a dialogue that
recognizes commonality but also honours difference’ (Christensen and Prout
2002: 479-80). As such, it is unwise and unfair to make sweeping assumptions
about the efficacy and suitability of children participating in research; as with any
other social group it is important to be aware that not all children are ‘equally
suited’ to participate (Christensen and Prout, 2002: 483). As a classroom
practitioner, I was well-aware that year grouping did not equate to competence,
and an inclusive approach to teaching requires a deep commitment to viewing
children as individuals within a group context.
As noted above, the importance of the power relationship between researcher and
researched, especially where the researched are children, is crucial and, in many
instances, researchers have gone to great lengths to try to deal with this
(Christensen 2004; Renold 2005). However, in this case there is a double power
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relationship at work. Since these children were pupils at the school where I worked
as a teacher - indeed, some were members of my class - there was an inherent
power relationship existent prior to and outside of the research that needed to be
acknowledged within the study itself. The relationship between parent and teacher
is also an uneven one, with parents being invited into the teacher’s space and the
teacher potentially being viewed as ‘the expert’.
In this instance, I believe my role as teacher, and therefore a familiar figure, was
useful in gathering both child and adult participants for the study and allowing them
to speak more freely in my presence than might otherwise have been the case.
For parents and teachers, the opportunity to find out about SRE for this age group
and being able to have an impact on the development of school policy were
important drivers to participation. For teachers, there was also the desire to assist
a colleague in a school with an established ethos of professional development.
Parents who gave their consent for children to take part often did so because they
knew from experience that I would be mindful of their concerns and the safety of
their children, and again wanted to “help out”.
As part of the recruitment process, all class teachers were initially given an outline
of the study, its purposes, the format the research would take and assurances of
anonymity (Appendix 6). Following assurances that they could withdraw from the
study at any time, those who were willing to take part signed a consent form,
retaining one copy for themselves (Appendix 7).
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Parents were initially contacted via a letter asking for anyone interested in the
project to return a slip to the school reception, which was then passed on to me
(Appendix 4). Those who responded then received two information sheets and
consent forms, one pertinent to their own participation and one related to
children’s participation in the project (Appendices 5, 7-9). As above, these outlined
the purpose and format of the research and assured anonymity and the right to
withdraw from the project at any time.
In some research projects children take part because ‘gatekeepers’ (parents and
carers, teachers, headteachers, etc.) agree they should do so rather than truly
giving their own consent. However, in this instance it seems that if anything the
reverse was true. As Hill, Laybourn and Borland (1996) also experienced, having
heard that their friends were going to help with the research a number of children
from the Year 2 classes asked if they could join the focus groups. I had to explain
to them that without their parents’ consent that would be impossible. Some then
asked me to speak to their parents to seek that consent, resulting in two more
children taking part. Unfortunately, four parents continued to withhold their
permission, much to the children’s disappointment. There is something of a
conundrum here. My attempt to empower children by engaging them in discussion
about their lives and understanding of the world was inhibited by parents
withholding permission. This situation also replicates a problem that is particularly
salient in the case of SRE where parents have the rights to withdraw children from
classes; in both cases parents’ rights override the desires and needs of children.
Thus, the research process itself has thrown light on the powerlessness
experienced by children.
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Sixteen children had the consent of their parents to participate (some of whose
parents were too busy to take part themselves, while two parents who took part
preferred that their children did not do so). Having gained parental consent, I
gathered the children together in my classroom. Rather than assuming the
traditional position of the teacher by standing at the front, the children and I sat
together on the carpet while I informed them about the research. While this might
be seen as a physical subversion of the teacher-pupil relationship, unlike in
secondary schools, sitting this way with children is far from uncommon in primary
school classrooms and something I would frequently do during lessons. I
explained that taking part in the research would help me to work out what they
should be learning about in future PSHE lessons and to find out more about their
opinions and the things they did. I was also clear that they would be helping me
to write a “big report” that might mean I would be able to pass an important test at
a university (I also explained what this is).
Despite my best efforts, David, Edwards and Alldred’s (2001) work rightly casts
doubt on the neutrality of my role and of the setting in the recruitment of children
to the study. The classroom setting carries connotations and expectations about
the positions to be assumed by individuals and the associated power relations. In
my explanation of the research process and purpose I reverted to the role of
teacher and the children to the role of pupil. Pupils were given the opportunity to
talk to one another and to ask me questions: common approaches to pedagogy.
As in David, Edwards and Alldred’s research into home-school relations: ‘The
boundaries between education and information became blurred and not readily
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susceptible to detailed delineation’ (2001: 359). Furthermore, the focus group
sessions themselves could conceivably be viewed as a pedagogic exercise.
Children were asked if they would like to take part in the research, rather than
being expected to opt out, and were assured that they could leave the project at
any time with no repercussions (David, Edwards and Alldred 2001; Phelan and
Kinsella 2013). I took this approach because I considered it easier for children to
say they did want to take part than to say they wanted to be excluded as this would
require them to actively dissent from the process in a setting and relationship
where this would run counter to the established social norms. They were then all
given their own assent forms in appropriate language, which we all read and talked
about together (Appendix 9). Lastly, I asked them to sign to give their assent, an
event that was met with great enthusiasm by all the children. Unlike the children
discussed by Phelan and Kinsella (2013) in their consideration of some of the
practical and ethical issues of carrying out research with children, these children
were easily able to write their names and did so regularly in class. The actual act
of writing their name was not an opportunity to show their proficiency but more of
an everyday occurrence and as such should not be seen as an incentive to agree
to take part. Even with this last act, there was a replication of classroom practice
as it was a requirement in the school for children to be given academic targets
which they would sign as an indication that they had been discussed and
understood. Furthermore, to a considerable degree, the classroom location of the
discussion and the fact of my position as a teacher also reflected the children’s
daily experiences of education.
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Rather than assuming that giving assent at the beginning of the process implied
an ongoing commitment to involvement, before each focus group session I
collected children from their classrooms, asking if they would like to join me. This
was particularly important before the second session as by then children were fully
aware of what participation meant. I also explained to the children that they could
leave the focus group session at any time and was mindful of any point at which
they might appear uncomfortable with the discussion.
All the children with parental permission agreed to take part in the study and
having participated in the first focus group session returned to participate in the
second. Additionally, as noted above, some children without consent also sought
to be included in this study. Edwards and Alldred’s (1999) analysis of how children
and young people viewed their research on home-school partnerships might
provide some insight into why this was the case. Children’s perspectives were
categorised under a number of themes. For instance, they saw research ‘as
educational’, ‘as fun’, ‘as therapeutic’ and ‘as empowering’ (Edwards and Alldred
1999: 274). It was the case that the focus groups took part during school time. As
such the children certainly might have seen these as an opportunity to get away
from their usual classroom activities, as fun rather than as education, and there
was no loss of opportunity to be playing with their friends (Denscombe and
Aubrook 1992). This was also an occasion that children might well have regarded
as empowering: their voices would be heard and what they said was going to have
an impact on what they would be taught.
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The fact that parents had given consent might also have been important in that
children could have felt that they needed to comply with what they perceived as
their parents’ wishes. It might also have been the case that the school context and
my role as a teacher were inherently coercive as within this location children are
expected to follow the rules and do as their teachers tell them (Denscombe and
Aubrook 1992). Finally, in my experience, children are often eager to please. My
relationship with these children might have meant they were willing to take part
because they wanted to help me. I did not seek the answer to these questions as
part of the research process, and it is unlikely that had I done so I would have
received a single, unifying response. These are, however, complex issues that are
worth reflecting upon.
Ideally the children’s focus groups would have been my first undertaking, providing
me with some of the context for adult discussions and avoiding the possibility of
adult ‘coaching’ of children in advance. However, the need to reassure parents, to
gain their involvement in the project and to get permission for children to take part,
meant that I needed to begin with the adults. In the end, the order in which I
undertook the focus groups appeared to have no significant impact, with none of
the children indicating in any way that they had already spoken to their parents
about what they might say.
The use of focus groups was at least in part motivated by ethical considerations.
Madriz (2003) argues that for a feminist researcher, focus groups may prove to be
a more ethically appropriate choice of data production technique than, for
example, one-to-one interviews or questionnaires, since this approach gives a
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voice to those “othered” in society. In Madriz’s case this particularly applies to
Latina women who found strength by being interviewed in a relatively
homogeneous group that facilitated open communication with little necessity for
researcher intervention. She also notes that in these situations, researchers may
gain from drawing upon personal relationships to gather participants, as this gives
potential members of the group the confidence to volunteer and to contribute
freely, reducing the power imbalance between researcher and researched.
Researchers have also demonstrated that children sometimes feel uncomfortable
being interviewed individually and frequently prefer having the company of a friend
or friends (David, Alldred and Edwards 2001; Mauthner 1997). The use of group
interviews also means that the participants’ perspectives and agendas are
‘foregrounded’ while the researcher’s position sits on the fringes (Keddie 2004).
Focus groups may also be particularly appropriate when dealing with sensitive
subjects since they provide an arena where participants can support one another
(Barbour 2007).
3.7 Focus group methodology
Focus groups usually comprise somewhere between four and twelve individuals
gathered together to take part in guided discussion and activities centred upon a
particular research question or topic (see Appendix 11 for focus group activities
and composition). It is not just what people say in these groups that is important,
but the way individuals interact and come to arrive at their utterances. Since the
1920s, focus groups have been used to gather data for market research. More
recently they have become employed with growing frequency in social science
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research, particularly in the fields of healthcare and education (Barbour 2007;
Duggleby 2005; Kitzinger 1994; Leavy 2007b; Powell and Single 1996; Reed and
Payton 1997).
There are numerous advantages to the use of focus groups for gathering data
over one-to-one interviews and questionnaires:
•
they are relatively inexpensive and quick to complete;
•
they demonstrate how people’s attitudes and opinions develop and
change;
•
they allow participants to express themselves spontaneously;
•
participants can gain a feeling of comfort and confidence from group
settings as it enables them to respond to questions only when they want to
rather than feeling the pressure of being alone with an interviewer;
•
group membership may allow individuals to feel a sense of empowerment.
(Sim 1998)
Using a focus group approach to gathering data meant that I was able to
deconstruct the discourse of participants within a poststructuralist framework. The
language and discourse employed by participants illuminated social power
relations, participants’ understanding of the social world, the ways in which they
actively constructed their own identities and their shifting, sometimes contradictory
positions (Weedon 1987). Furthermore, for the feminist researcher the use of
focus groups can be particularly appropriate (Wilkinson 1998; Leavy 2007b). As
Leavy notes, this approach to gathering data gives participants the opportunity to
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express themselves ‘on their own terms’ and in their own way (Leavy 2007b: 173).
While it is the researcher who initially decides on the focus for the conversation,
participants are then able to set the agenda, potentially giving voice to individuals
and groups who frequently go unheard, and unearthing knowledge that would
otherwise remain hidden. Furthermore, these interactions can help participants to
reflect on their own and others’ experiences and viewpoints, and to develop new
understandings (Leavy 2007b; Reed and Payton 1997). This is not to say that the
researcher should act as a passive observer once the discussion begins. The
researcher might intervene by ‘urging debate to continue beyond the stage it might
otherwise have ended, challenging people's taken for granted reality and
encouraging them to discuss the inconsistencies both between participants and
within their own thinking’ (Kitzinger 1994:106). Thereby, the process itself can be
rewarding for the researcher but also empowering for research participants.
In the case of children, I felt that parents were more likely to give consent for
participation than in other forms of data gathering, children were more likely to feel
comfortable with their peers, and the teacher-pupil / researcher-researched
relationship would not be starkly obvious. As with the adults in this study, I also
hoped that the group setting would facilitate conversation among the children
allowing them to express themselves more openly than might be the case, for
example, via one-to-one interviews (Hood at al 1996).
As with other methods of data gathering, there are pitfalls to which the researcher
must be alert. It might be that an individual dominates in a group, while others
abstain from participation. Group dynamics may also be an issue, and questions
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arise over whether it is better to have a heterogeneous or homogeneous group of
participants. Recording interactions and analysis of the data is potentially
challenging. Nonetheless, with careful use focus groups can provide insightful
data.
3.8 Teacher focus groups
At the time when the initial focus groups were undertaken there were 17 class
teachers employed in the school, including myself, three of whom were part-time.
All of these were given a request to take part in the focus groups with an outline
of the projects aims and what they would need to do if they agreed to participate.
All but two teachers agreed to take part, with one part-time nursery teacher failing
to respond and another KS1 teacher stating that she would rather not. Four of the
16 teachers who took part were men (including the deputy heateacher and the
KS1 Lead) and all were white British. Three of the teachers were also parents of
KS1 children.
This undoubtedly represents a very high response rate among the staff at the
school, unlikely to be repeatable in a setting where a researcher had not already
built positive relationships. Additionally, this school had a strong and active ethos
of teacher development, with seven of its staff in the process of studying for further
qualifications, so a culture of participation and enquiry had already been wellestablished. It is also likely that the teachers were more relaxed sharing their
experiences and opinions with a researcher who they regarded as part of their
group and with whom there was some mutual experience (Dwyer and Buckle
2009). However, as Dwyer and Buckle (2009) point out, one potential difficulty of
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this could be that the teachers might assume a level of shared understanding that
might lead them to not fully express their views and experiences.
These teachers were at a variety of stages in their careers, ranging from recently
qualified to near retirement, and four were part of the senior leadership team.
Some had taught SRE in other settings, including secondary school (Mr Marshall),
but others had no experience of tackling the subject. For all these teachers, a
combination of the personal and the professional informed their thinking about
children’s prior knowledge and understanding, their life experiences and what they
‘needed to know’.
The teachers in these groups assumed multiple positions throughout the focus
group interviews. Some were parents of participants in the children’s focus groups
(Mrs Old, Mrs Brown, Mrs Moore), while Mr Marshall’s young daughters attended
a church school elsewhere in the local authority. Others had children in their teens
or older (Mr Hall, Mrs Harvey, Mrs Garrow, Mrs Blake, Mr Mayall). The remainder
had no children (Miss Macintyre, Miss Thomson, Miss Redfearne, Miss Kennedy,
Mr Drake). Throughout the discussion teachers’ positions shifted away from their
professional guise. Sometimes they assumed the identity of parent, reflected on
experiences and talked about their feelings toward SRE for their own children. At
other times the teachers in this group shared episodes from their family lives as
siblings, daughters and sons, and incidents from their own schooling experiences.
With 15 teacher-participants the aim was to have three focus groups, each with
five members. However, pressure on teacher time meant that it was impossible to
schedule the first round of focus groups with even numbers, meaning that while
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focus group one had five members; groups two and three consisted of four and
six members respectively.
The first round of meetings lasted between 45 and 55 minutes and took place in
my classroom. Each session was recorded using digital voice recorders and
followed the same general pattern. Beginning with teachers briefly sharing their
own experiences, if any, of teaching SRE and their feelings about this, the groups
then moved on to considering the nature and content of a KS1 SRE curriculum.
Initially, using mind maps to help maintain focus, the groups talked about what
they thought should be taught and how it should be covered, with KS1 teachers in
particular often relating this back to what they already taught or situations they had
encountered with their classes. The groups then moved on to a number of prompt
cards with relationship types / events on them (bereavement, same sex
relationships, divorce, friendship, family and biology). These were the reference
point for a discussion about which they thought were already taught in various
areas of the curriculum, should be taught, or should be excluded. Participants
were also invited to add to the list if they wished. Finally, they discussed the issue
of teaching values and how these would gel with those of the local community.
The second round of focus group sessions were attended by all the first-round
participants, although group membership changed due to other calls on teacher
time. Each group comprised five teachers who, as a stimulus, evaluated a
commercially produced scheme of work and resources frequently used in other
schools (Channel 4 2009; Christopher Winter Project 2009).
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Some of the participants were more vocal than others but in every group all took
an active role in the discussions, expressing their views, anxieties and
experiences with others. On those occasions when strong disagreements did
occur (for example over the issue of same-sex relationships and homosexuality in
Focus Group 2’s first session) these were dealt with calmly and respectfully.
Generally, the participants were enthusiastic and came with a real curiosity about
the topic. Often, they commented about how interesting and enjoyable they had
found the experience, both immediately after sessions and in the following days.
3.9 Parent focus groups
The parents involved in the study were drawn from Years 1 and 2 children (aged
5–7) attending the school. With 120 children (some with siblings across or within
the four classes) in the cohorts for these year groups I hoped that at least 20
parents would be willing to participate in the study. While, ideally, I would have
given parents details of the study and a request to take part from the outset, it was
clear from the attitudes of both head and governors that it would be first necessary
to send out a letter asking those with an interest in the general area of SRE
curriculum development to contact me to obtain details.
Forty-two parents responded to the initial letter, asking for details about the study,
their own possible involvement and that of their children. This number dwindled,
with 14 parents finally agreeing to take part. Most of these were parents of children
in my class, or of children who I had previously taught who had younger siblings
in KS1. In practice, this meant that only three parents of Year 1 children agreed to
95
take part (one the mother of twins). In all but one case these parents also agreed
for their children to take part.
Replicating the gender balance of other studies, three fathers and 11 mothers
volunteered to take part (e.g. Constantine, Jerman and Huang 2007; Durex et al
2010; Dyson and Smith 2012; Feldman and Rosenthal 2000; Turnbull 2012;
Walker and Milton 2006). Within this sample, two couples (Mick’s parents: Hugh
and Stephanie Ling, and Rosetta’s parents: Oliver Egan and Siobhan Franklin)
were represented and all but two of the parents (Jean Paxton and Robert
Heymann) also agreed to allow their children to participate in the project.
Three participants were stay-at-home mothers (Mrs Thomas, Mrs Ling and Mrs
Paxton), while the remainder were in paid employment or self-employed in a range
of roles, among them teachers, counsellors, computer specialists, gardeners, a
hairdresser and a medical representative. As such, the group members did not
represent the full spread of employment patterns among parents in the school,
many of whom worked in highly skilled manual jobs in local factories, were in lowskilled, low-paid work or were under- or unemployed. They were not, however,
atypical of parents at the school. Most were married or cohabited in long-term
relationships, the exceptions being Miss Kennedy and Mrs Gage (single mothers).
Parents’ ages ranged from late 20s to early 40s. Mrs Paxton and Mr Heymann
were active members of a strict evangelical church and sometimes referred to
their religious beliefs to explain their views. Many of these parents already knew
each other from interactions on the playground or as a result of living near one
another. Some had children who often played together both in and out of school.
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A significant challenge with the parents was arranging times when they could meet
in groups. Focus group sessions were arranged to take place both during and
after school hours to accommodate their childcare and work schedules as much
as possible. It was impossible to maintain the same group make-up in the second
round, and three parents (women) failed to attend due to other commitments.
Consequently, in the second round the membership of Group 2 dwindled to five,
while the other two groups each had three and four members. This also meant
that composition of the groups varied from one session to another, depending on
parent availability. This had the advantage of disrupting any dynamics that might
have been established in the first set of interviews, thereby reducing the possibility
that one strong individual could dominate a group and giving more space to more
reserved participants to express themselves.
The sessions took place either in my classroom or the staffroom. Each of the first
round of three meetings followed a similar pattern to those of the teachers’ groups.
Following assurances of confidentiality and anonymity, and an explanation of how
the sessions would run, I began by asking parents to give their thoughts on the
principle of SRE for young children. Through the course of the interviews every
group addressed the same core themes, but beyond this each was then free to
take its own path. Members of some groups were very vocal, and some asked for
more clarity about what KS1 SRE curriculum would cover. Some parents were
happy to share their own experiences of growing up or anecdotes from raising
their children. Each group was also presented with the same selection of prompt
cards as the teachers’ groups to stimulate conversation and reflection.
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The second round, again of three meetings, took as a central focus materials from
the Christopher Winter Project (2009) and the accompanying Channel 4 DVD
resource: All About Us: Living and Growing (Channel 4 1999). Parents talked
through the schemes of work for Years 1 and 2 lesson-by-lesson, viewed the
relevant sections of the DVD and gave their views on the appropriateness,
relevance and scope of the materials.
Parents frequently dealt with challenging subjects using humour. Throughout the
process, individual participants were outwardly respectful of one another’s views,
gave each other time to express themselves, and often engaged thoughtfully with
opinions at odds with their own.
3.10 Children’s focus groups
Sixteen children took part in the focus group interviews. From Year 1 there were
four boys and one girl, and from Year 2 there were an equal number (7) of girls
and boys. John and William in Year 1 were twins, and Christopher (Y1) and
Rihanna (Y2) were siblings. In fact, Christopher and Rihanna came from a large
family with eight children in all. Five of the children had parents who were teachers,
either at BCP or elsewhere, and Mick’s father was a governor at the school. Most
of the children were drawn from families with parents working in professional or
skilled manual occupations, and only two children came from a household where
neither parent was employed. All the children were white and had English as their
first language. Throughout the course of the two rounds of focus groups the
composition and dynamics of family life emerged beyond my initial understanding.
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Both Renold (2005) and Keddie (2004) propose the use of friendship or affinity
groups to collect focus group data from children. Renold explained that her use of
this type of grouping and her approach to interviews meant that ‘many children
could talk about a range of issues’ (Renold 2005: 14). Due to the small number of
participants in this research, children were unable to choose their fellow
interviewees. However, it had been my observation that the children in these
groups would happily work together in class and play together on the playground.
I also knew from conversations with these children and their parents that some
would also socialise out of school.
The first round of sessions was intended to comprise all-female and all-male
groups, with the second round being mixed, with Year 1s and 2s being separated
from one another. This measure was planned in the hope that children might feel
more at ease talking in groups about some issues in girl only or boy only groups,
while the mixed-group dynamic might facilitate different types of discussion. This
proved to be impossible with the Year 1s as there were four boys and only one
girl who had been given permission to contribute to the study. Round one,
therefore, consisted of one group of five Year 2 boys (one was absent on the
meeting day), one group of five Year 2 girls, and a mixed group of one Year 1 girl
and three Year 1 boys (one was absent from school). In the end, I could perceive
no substantive differences in group interactions between mixed- and singlegender groupings, but that is not to say the outcomes would have been the same
if these children had been grouped differently.
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Each discussion began with children being reminded of the terms of their
participation and the need to respect each other by listening, not talking over one
another and keeping other people’s contributions private. Initially, to put them at
ease, all the children were then asked to draw and talk about their families and
the people who were important to them (Appendices 12a–12o). As this activity
evolved the children included child-minders, deceased relatives and their pets.
They went on to talk about family roles, jobs they performed at home, their
aspirations and, as a result of a discussion point in the first group consisting of
Year 2 girls, the types of parties they enjoyed. With their agreement, these
drawings were then photocopied and then returned to the children.
The second round of sessions took place in three mixed groupings, again with
Year 1s and 2s segregated, and focused on friendships, play activities, the
differences between boys and girls, and what it means to have a girlfriend or
boyfriend (a topic prompted in part by much discussion in my Year 2 class). In this
round all but one Year 2 girl was present.
The children who participated were excited and clearly enjoyed the experience,
asking when they could come and ‘help’ me again. Although two of the girls were
particularly quiet in discussions, reflecting their general demeanour in school, all
the children did make contributions. As the children were used to taking turns to
speak in class, they often reverted to this kind of behaviour, waiting for their turn
as we went around the table and waiting with their hands up to indicate when they
wanted to speak, but at other times were so keen to offer their opinions and
experiences that they rushed to speak out. In these instances, it was necessary
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to go back over what the children had said, unpicking their offerings as a group.
Although I sometimes prompted the children to focus on a particular topic, like
Renold (2005: 13), I often found that the children often took the discussion in
‘unexpected directions’. This was just one of the benefits of the focus group
discussion approach, empowering children to set an agenda for what they
considered to be important in their lives.
3.10 Conducting the focus group interviews and analysis
Each group was recorded using two digital recorders. I transcribed all but two of
the recordings on the same day as the group met, a process that was key in
familiarising myself with the data. The remaining two transcriptions were
contracted out; these I then checked and corrected using the original recordings.
I decided that it was important to include aspects of speech that might be
described as disfluency (see Appendix 1 for Transcript Key). These false starts,
cut-off sentences and non-lexical utterances were retained, as were pauses and
emphases, in an effort to ensure that the transcripts matched the speech as
closely as possible and to give an indication of the processes of dialogue and
thought that themselves carry meaning. This ‘messy’ speech can be seen not only
as an articulation and justification of participants’ viewpoints and experiences, but
part of the process of forming their opinions (sometimes collaboratively)
(Wilkinson 1998). In essence, I saw these focus group meetings as both a time
when individual participants positioned themselves in relation to particular
discourses and a time when they engaged in the discursive production of their
own subjectivities (Rhedding-Jones 1996).
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Some effort was made in the first group meeting to note members’ interactions,
but it soon became obvious that this was a distraction for both the participants and
me. Therefore, after each session I noted overall impressions of the interactions
and added any additional remembrances recorded as part of the transcribing
process. I also noted any themes that had begun to emerge during the data
collection process.
Part of the purpose of the focus group interview is to identify consensus and
disagreement among participants. Commentators point out, however, that this is
not simple (Kidd and Parshall 2000; Reed and Payton 1997; Sim 1998). While
disagreement is easy to pick out from a recording, particularly when it is expressed
forcefully, an absence of dissent is not necessarily a sign of consensus within a
group. Inevitably, some individuals will feel more confident, may be more
articulate, or be more invested in their opinions than others in a group interview
situation. Kidd and Parshall (2000) point out that only lack of dissent can be
evidenced with certainty; ‘the analyst must evaluate whether the apparent
agreement resulted from coercion or self-censoring of members with alternative
viewpoints’ (Kidd and Parshall 2000: 300).
Sim (1998) suggests that one way in which the reliability of the data might be
improved is via multiple focus groups. He argues that this will ensure that if one
group ‘is in some sense aberrant’ this will be mitigated by other groups, and a
more general consensus (across rather than within groups) might be identifiable
(Sim 1998: 348). In this instance, in addition to multiple groupings, the composition
of the groups varied from one session to the next. This meant that if a participant
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was particularly reluctant or retiring, there would be more than one opportunity to
voice their opinions in a different grouping that might be more congenial to the
expression and, perhaps, development, of their views. From a feminist perspective
the valuing of individuals narratives is also important in that these serve to illustrate
existing power relationships.
Taking a thematic approach to the analysis of the data, I read and re-read the
transcripts multiple times, identifying extracts related to the research questions,
themes and patterns within the data (Braun and Clarke 2006; Vaismoradi et al
2013). Initially these readings were focused on semantic meaning and identifying
interesting extracts. With systematic re-reading this analysis developed further to
begin to examine the underpinnings of participants’ utterances; I began to
interrogate the assumptions that led participants to express particular positions
within individual interviews and across the data sets.
Coding the data was a multi-layered process. The data was complex and my
understanding of the context was important, so rather than using computer
software, I chose to code manually (Gallagher 2007 cited in Saldana 2013).
Initially I wrote notes on printed copies of the transcripts. I then moved to
developing computer files based on themes, copying extracts across from the
transcript files to thematically organised documents for each of the three groups
of participants. Some extracts appeared under more than one theme, some only
once. Some themes had only a small number of extracts attached to them.
Elements of the transcripts were discarded completely as irrelevant to the
research questions (e.g. one group of parents engaged in an extended
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conversation about the use of traditional hand soap versus liquid soap dispensers
in the children’s toilets). Furthermore, as noted above, I was careful to ensure the
extracts showed how conversations were part of the mechanism for arriving at an
opinion, part of the meaning making process, rather than showing just the
outcomes (Macnaghten and Myers 2004, cited in Silverman 2011).
Once I had identified the initial themes, I revisited the data extracts within them.
This allowed me to identify where there was a good deal of overlap and themes
might legitimately be combined. Throughout the process, I repeatedly returned to
the data set in its entirety to ensure that the identified themes and the extracts
within these were realistic representations of focus group interactions.
3.11 Conclusion
For feminists, gender, sexuality and childhood are all political and educational
issues. As such, the personal “stories” of the participants in this study serve as a
vehicle for exploring and challenging the wider social order (Brooks and HesseBiber 2007; David 2016; Mayall 2001). However, the teachers, parents and
children of BCP had their own experiences, characteristics and viewpoints that
were to some extent unique, and ‘constituted by a host of discursive practices’
(Leavy 2007a: 95). Through listening to multiple constituencies within the school
the aim was to provide sufficient understanding of a small social world (BCP) to
bring about a significant localised transformation (Edwards and Mauthner 2012).
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Chapter 4: Teachers’ views on
teaching about sex and relationships
It was a tradition in the school that the birth of a baby within a family was celebrated
with a gift for the new mother. Most frequently, this was to mark the birth of a
younger sibling for the children in school but sometimes it was a new niece or
nephew:
The SENCO, Mrs Stephenson, came into the classroom to see
Sherys. She brought a small package with her containing a baby
grow, some knitted booties and matching hat. She explained to
Sherys that she would like her to take the package home to her
fourteen-year old sister, as a gift from the school: she had just had
her first baby.
4.1 Introduction
With the aim of researching what teachers at BCP considered to be appropriate
SRE for KS1 children, six focus group interviews were undertaken with teachers
from across the school. The themes identified here address both physical and
social aspects of SRE and contribute to the overall picture of adult participants’
views on SRE for young children.
This chapter begins with an examination of teachers’ prior experiences and broad
attitudes toward SRE, as these form the bedrock of their opinions for what and
how the subject should be taught. Throughout, the teachers articulated concerns
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about parental attitudes to SRE, teacher confidence and lack of knowledge and
training. The consequence of these is that although teachers saw the value of
children learning about a range of topics, they were sometimes less than eager to
actually teach them. These conversations demonstrated that parents’ perceived
desires for children’s education ultimately overrode children’s needs and teachers’
professional opinions and experience.
In section 4.3 teachers’ views about
curriculum content in terms of biology and the discourse of pleasure are
considered. Here, teachers discussed pitch and pedagogy; they also exhibited a
deep-seated reticence to talk about pleasure.
The intersection of gender and class are discussed in section 4.5. These are
explored against the backdrop of neoliberal education policies and practices that
operate within schools, and teachers’ perceptions of their own roles as educators.
When considering the subject of the family, section 4.5 reflects upon the
heterosexist assumptions of government guidance on the teaching of SRE and
argues that this, along with worries about parental reactions, acts to constrain
teachers who express a fundamental belief in an inclusive approach to education.
The heterosexist nature of the classroom and the absence of a strong antihomophobic stance are interrogated in sections 4.6 and 4.7. What becomes
evident here is that teachers continued to be wedded to a normative alignment of
gender and sexuality that is located in the body. Finally, the ways in which
teachers employed the discourse of maturity, rather than innocence, in relation to
the teaching of SRE are examined. Again, maturity was linked to gender, with
teachers drawing upon stereotypical depictions of girls and boys to justify
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pedagogic approaches, thereby reinforcing those stereotypes and gender power
relations.
Throughout, teachers’ views were not firm and fixed. Individuals often shifted
position on topics (sometimes more than once), contradicted themselves and
talked through their feelings with no real resolution. Nonetheless, they all saw the
value of KS1 SRE to enable children to make sense of the world around them, to
feel valued and to value others, and to prepare them for their teenage and adult
lives. They also regarded SRE as a vehicle for social change.
4.2 Teachers’ prior experiences and attitudes to teaching SRE
For some years at BCP, SRE had only been taught in Years 5 and 6, reflecting a
similar picture in many schools across the country (Formby at al 2011; Formby
2011). In Year 5 this was confined to showing a DVD followed by a talk with the
school nurse and Mrs Blake (one of the Year 5 teachers) about menstruation,
which was only delivered to the girls. As part of the transition to secondary school,
the curriculum was then expanded in Year 6, with the school nurse and class
teachers working together, largely to address issues related to puberty. Girls and
boys were taught separately, a female teacher (Mrs Brown) working with the girls
and a male teacher (Mr Marshall) with the boys.
Teachers’ experiences of SRE and general attitude toward the subject had a
considerable impact on what they thought should be taught and the pedagogical
approaches that should be employed with KS1 children. The teachers’ differing
experiences of SRE also had a direct impact on their confidence and willingness
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to teach it in the future. Three of the teachers (Mr Hall, Mrs Blake, and Mr Mayall)
recalled the impact of Section 28 of the Local Government Act prohibiting LEAs
from promoting homosexuality, though none cited this as a cause for any
reluctance they felt toward teaching any aspect of SRE (Pilcher 2005; Thomson
1994).
Through discussions, a number of barriers emerged that confirm the findings of
studies undertaken elsewhere (Alldred and David 2007; Johnson et al 2014;
Mason 2010; Milton 2001, 2003). These included lack of subject knowledge, the
difficulties of deciding on appropriate pitch, how to respond to children’s questions
and parental attitudes. The foundation of some teachers’ anxiety was that none of
the participants had received any significant amount of training related to teaching
SRE, either through their initial teacher education or continuing professional
development (something that is likely to worsen with the growing number of
academies2 and a reduction in local authorities’ ability to provide advisors and to
fund training). Only Miss Thomson, as subject coordinator, had either read any
guidance regarding the teaching of SRE or received any recent PSHE training;
even so, she was far from at ease with the idea of teaching SRE:
Miss Thomson: We didn’t really do much during any university training but, in
researching the sex education scheme for Key Stage 2, now I’m learning more
about it. But it’s still a daunting prospect for me to apply it to my actual teaching.
2
Independently run schools funded directly from central government there is no
requirement for these to follow the National Curriculum (DfE 2013).
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This picture of training is typical across the teaching profession in the UK and
further afield, and reflects the low priority given to PSHE within the curriculum
(Alldred, David and Smith 2003; Alldred and David 2007; Formby et al 2011; Milton
2001, 2003; Ofsted 2013; SEF 2008; Vavrus 2009; Walker, Green and Tilford
2002). Despite Ofsted’s (2013) insistence on the importance of PSHE and the
assertion that ‘the majority [of schools] choose to teach it’ (Ofsted 2013: 9), at the
time this research was undertaken its non-statutory status meant that in many
schools PSHE, and within that SRE, often assumed the position of an “also ran”
subject. This led Ofsted to conclude that PSHE provision was ‘inadequate’ in 40%
of schools and that a third of schools needed to improve their SRE teaching
(Ofsted 2013: 4). Under the pressure of an overloaded timetable and in an
education system where schools (and, therefore, individual teachers) are judged
by the success of pupils in English and Mathematics, rather than on the basis of
the successful provision of a broad, rich curriculum that aims to develop the whole
child, discrete teaching is often squeezed into short sessions, taught by teaching
assistants or sometimes completely abandoned in favour of core subjects (Alldred
and David 2007; Formby 2011; PSHE Association 2016).3
Studies by Sacha Mason (2010) and Jan Milton (2003) indicate that teachers are
sometimes concerned about parents’ potential responses to sex education.
During the focus group discussions, it became apparent that parental attitudes to
SRE was one factor that made these teachers feel uncomfortable.
3
Under the 1999 National Curriculum this meant English, mathematics and science.
Under the revised (DfE 2013) curriculum, this was expanded to include computing.
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Mr Mayall: I think your problem’s going to be: it’s very difficult to judge what the
response from parents will be. I mean you’re going to have parents who will say,
“Yes, that’s taken out of our hands, I’m quite happy with that.” And then, “This is
our family job; this is what we actually want to do in private.”
The right of parents to remove their children from SRE lessons (DfEE 2000) did
allay some of the teachers’ concerns that the introduction of SRE across all year
groups in the school might lead to friction between home and school, but also led
to a degree of dismay that all children would not have the benefit of these life
lessons.
Mrs Moore: Would you have parents who’d want them to be excluded from that
altogether? There might be some parents who’d say, “I don’t want my child to be
involved in that.”
Mrs Blake:
And often it’s because, sadly, because the parents are very
embarrassed and find it very difficult because it’s not been introduced early
enough (laughs). It’s a vicious circle, isn’t it?
Despite this, only one teacher expressed the view that parents should not be able
to deny their children access to this aspect of the curriculum.
Mrs Old: Robert [Marshall] and I would probably sing from the same hymn sheet
on this and say actually parents shouldn’t have the right to withdraw. That actually
children should, if parents aren’t going to educate them in this sense, then we
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should be able to do it. Without their permission, possibly. Particularly in certain
areas. Not necessarily //
Mr Marshall: No. I do believe in freedom of choice. I want to educate the
community and I realise they might find my views challenge their views at times. I
think they’re wrong. I would like to ride rough-shod over their views. But I shouldn’t,
because that’s the freedom everyone should have as a parent. I don’t know how
to reconcile the two.
Teachers’ fear that parents might be unhappy with the introduction of SRE at KS1
were not without precedent. Parent protests at schools following the introduction
of SRE have been highlighted in the media (Atwal 2013; Bowater 2011; Goldman
2013). For example, in 2013 at Arnham Wharf Primary School in Newham, parents
protested against sex education being ‘smuggled into the nation’s schools under
the guise of the national curriculum’ as part of compulsory science (Atwal 2013:
n.p.). In 2011, Grenoside Primary School’s consultation with parents on the
subject provoked not only parent protests but, following a parent contacting the
local Sheffield press, the intervention of the British National Party (BNP) (Bowater
2011). This led to a fraught situation with BNP protests outside the school and the
headteacher’s and governors’ homes, the cancellation of a local community
Christmas event and the governors and headteacher being accused of ‘mental
paedophilia’ (BBC News Online 2011b; Bowater 2011; BNP 2011).
These are extreme examples of what can happen when sex appears on the
curriculum and the teachers in this study did not appear to anticipate these kinds
of protests from parents. However, good parent-teacher relations are much valued
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in schools, so the possibility of any level of friction was not an inviting prospect.
As such, teachers expressed the opinion that the ability to withdraw children from
SRE might also remove the problem of dissatisfied parents. By way of contrast,
Mr Marshall’s support for the right to withdraw, despite his desire to ‘educate the
community’, did not seem to be prompted by fears of a parental backlash. Rather,
he was drawing upon the parents’ rights discourse that comes through so strongly
in the Bailey Review (2010) and persists in the most recent RSE guidance (DfE
2018a). Nonetheless, what came through in these discussions was that some
children being removed from lessons would give teachers the freedom to plan and
teach what they regarded as a quality SRE programme. The absence of a few
would be the price to pay for the benefit of most children.
Given the dearth of training and media representations of opposition to the
teaching of SRE (Simey and Wellings 2008; PSHE Association 2016), it is
unsurprising that some of the teachers at BCP felt that having a very clear and
structured scheme of work would boost their confidence and support the
development of their subject knowledge. They also thought that this would help
them to avoid making mistakes and upsetting parents; they would be able to share
the scheme of work with parents and it would be clear to everyone what would be
taught. Indeed, it has been demonstrated that provision of these kinds of schemes
enhances teacher confidence in their ability to transact lessons in PSHE more
broadly. In response to the Macdonald Review (2009), which recommended that
PSHE should become a statutory element within the curriculum, Sheffield Hallam
University was commissioned to undertake research mapping the provision of
PSHE in 932 primary schools and 617 secondary schools (Formby et al 2011: 1).
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The findings of this research identified the blurring of lines between PSHE and the
SEAL programme.4 They found that SEAL gave confidence to teachers in what
they were teaching in PSHE, but also that teachers were less sure of those
aspects of the curriculum that lacked these kinds of resources ‘with SRE being the
most likely subject area to cause discomfort or anxiety among teachers’ with some
feeling embarrassed by the teaching of SRE (Formby et al 2011: 165).
Mrs Harvey: I’ve never had experience of teaching it and, again, I have seen it
being taught. And I think that if I was asked to do it I’d feel, uncomfortable is
perhaps a far-fetched word, but I think I’d prefer someone who knew exactly what
they were doing, especially with information that you should give to children.
Obviously, if there was a scheme of work we were following. Obviously, if it was
within what we should be teaching, then we’d look at it and go for it. But I think if I
were, I think at this present point I’d be more comfortable with somebody who
knew what they were saying to teach them.
Some teachers were very aware that even with a detailed scheme of work they
might encounter the unexpected when dealing with children and were particularly
worried by the types of questions with which they might be confronted.
4
SEAL Resources (Social Emotional Aspects of Learning) were introduced in schools in
2005 part of the Primary National Strategy. The programme was designed to be
integrated into schools’ existing PSHE offerings, rather than to replace them. It addresses
a number of themes, e.g. ‘Say no to bullying’ and ‘Going for goals’, while focusing on
the development of particular social and emotional aspects of learning, like motivation
and empathy (Deparpemt for Education and Skills (DfES) 2005).
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Miss Kennedy: I’d prefer that [a set scheme of work] because I think that it’s
more likely to have been shared with the parents beforehand. To teach something
like this, I’d be very nervous about; if I went in the wrong direction with it and the
parents think it’s just going to be this. And you’re going to get comeback from that.
I’d prefer it to be very structured, especially the first time I taught it, so that I could
follow //
Mrs Garrow: You need to predict in your head how the children are going to
respond so that you can be prepared for it. I think that’s the unknown territory
that’s going to cause //
Mrs Old & Miss Kennedy: Yes
Provision of a SEAL-type scheme of work does present potential pitfalls.
Particularly for teachers who lack confidence, there is a potential to become overreliant on these types of resources, to become overly narrow in the use of teaching
approaches and to be unresponsive to the context for teaching and children’s
individual needs. Walker, Green and Tilford (2003) demonstrate clearly the
benefits of training rather than prescribed schemes of work for those teachers who
lack experience and expertise. Drawing upon a small-scale study, they examined
how SRE training programmes for staff from one high school and one middle
school impacted on teaching and confidence. Following the programme, teachers
reported that they had become ‘less dependent on using resources (like DVDs),
and more reliant on their ability to facilitate learning.’ They had become more
aware of different teaching strategies and were more able to identify and respond
to young people’s needs (Walker, Green and Tilford 2003: 323). While these
changes may be judged to be small and confined to a small study, they do
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demonstrate the importance of training to support teachers to develop as
competent, confident teachers of SRE.
Experience, like training, was a key factor for these teachers. Unlike those above,
for example, Mr Marshall was far less troubled by the prospect of children asking
unexpected questions and was clear how he would respond.
Mr Marshall: I think the worry people have around what a child might ask, I just
don’t think that’s going to happen at Key Stage 1. Key Stage 2 it could perhaps.
Because I presume we’re hinting at if they ask about the mechanics of how the
sex works, with a man and a man, a woman and a woman. That’s not going to
come up in Key Stage 1. If it does it would probably ring alarm bells that they knew
about that aspect of life. If it came up at Key Stage 2 I would be totally comfortable,
but I wouldn’t discuss it. I would say that would have to be a discussion for yourself
at home if you wanted to know more about that.
Unlike most of his colleagues Mr Marshall was not facing the prospect of stepping
into unknown territory. As a Year 6 teacher and having taught SRE in secondary
school, he had the most experience of any participant in the team and of
encountering “uncomfortable” questions. Mr Marshall was not worried by the
prospect of children potentially pushing the boundaries of what had been set down
in a scheme of work. However, his decision to refer children to their parents and
carers does again demonstrate his commitment to parents’ rights. Implicit here too
is a safeguarding agenda, with the idea that if children had “too much” knowledge
it would indicate a potential child protection issue. While teachers do need to be
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aware of the potential for abuse, Mr Marshall could be seen as returning to the
discourse of childhood innocence and the image of the nonsexual child.
Mr Marshall’s proposed course of action is somewhat more restrained than the
approach of the two teachers’ who took part in Mason’s (2010) study of SRE in
Upper KS2. These teachers were aware that pupils sometimes deliberately
framed questions to embarrass them. Neither was particularly troubled by this,
either deciding to answer challenging questions in a ‘biological and factual way’ or
by ‘deflect[ing] the question’ or talking ‘privately with the pupil’ (Mason 2010: 161).
Conversely, some of the teachers in Milton’s (2001) study of Australian teachers
were troubled by some challenging questions and children’s motives for asking
them (whether the children really needed an answer or were just hoping to ‘get a
reaction’) and would tell children, ‘You’ll do that in high school’ or ‘Ask your
parents’ (Milton 2001: n.p.), an approach more akin to Mr Marshall’s.
It was also the case that one group of teachers (Mrs Blake, Miss Macintyre, Mr
Hall, Mrs Moore) was keen to be reactive to children’s needs and questions,
expecting that these would arise ‘naturally’ (Miss Macintyre) and that teachers
should have the latitude to ‘be sensitive to how the children were reacting and how
they’re handling it. It can’t be something that’s too laid down’ (Mrs Blake). In other
words, teachers should have the freedom to act as skilled professionals in being
trusted to answer children’s questions. This viewpoint was clearly at odds with
those who had expressed a real desire to have a very clear-cut curriculum that left
no room for ambiguity.
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The approach of waiting for children to ask the right questions is also problematic.
As Miss Macintyre recognised, ‘if they don’t come up naturally then someone
misses out.’ This is also rather at odds with usual approaches to teaching. It would
be unthinkable, for example, to wait for a child to ask a question about
multiplication before deciding to teach about it.
Another solution for the teachers was, as Mrs Harvey stated, for ‘somebody who
knew what they were saying to teach them’, perhaps with this then being used as
training for the less confident teachers. In 2013, Ofsted reported that 80% of
schools used outside speakers to support their SRE offering (Ofsted 2013: 8). As
in many schools, the school nurse delivered some aspects of the SRE curriculum
at BCP (Halstead and Reiss 2003; Simpson 2014) and for a range of reasons,
including avoiding parental upset and embarrassment, these teachers were happy
with the idea of an “expert outsider” teaching their class rather than assuming the
position themselves.
Mrs Brown: That’s what I think is easier – going in after somebody has already
done the leg-work. We were picking up on what they had said. They [the school
nurse] did all the awkward bits and I picked up from there. So, it sort of worked:
having that input beforehand.
Miss Thomson: I think if I was going to teach it, I would like to see somebody,
you know – like you say, the school nurse or, I’d like to have that opportunity to
see how it’s done.
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Miss Peake: I think it’s, you know you’re saying the right things. Because, I know
– how far do you go with something? And what’s acceptable for your group and
how far do you take it?
Mrs Brown: And what parents think as well, because they might not agree with
what you’re saying about it.
Mr Mayall: No. I think I’d be altering my relationship with the children. You know.
Not feeling comfortable in that position, I’d rather hand it over to an expert.
From the perspective of pupils, the use of an outsider might also be preferable.
For example, Alldred and David (2007: 88) found that pupils aged 13–14 preferred
school nurses and other sex education specialists over teachers to deliver SRE
when it came to particular aspects of SRE: ‘sex, contraception, pregnancy and
birth, and sexual health’. Some also feared embarrassment when ‘discussing
sexual and personal matters with teachers they already knew’ and, like Mr Mayall,
did not want to ‘disrupt’ existing relationships.
In Alldred and David’s (2007) study, the fear of fractured relationships and worries
about potential embarrassment was reported as applying mostly to older teachers,
but this was not really the case at BCP. While Mr Mayall was the oldest member
of staff, there was no direct correlation between the age of the staff and levels of
comfort. The more consistent link was between feeling at ease and levels of
experience in teaching SRE.
While valuing the input of the school nurse, some of the KS2 teachers felt that
their own input was integral to the delivery of effective SRE. This may be due to
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the close relationships that class teachers develop with primary school pupils,
compared to those of secondary pupils who are taught by a number of different
teachers throughout the day. Certainly, curriculum content and the types of
discussions younger children have with their teachers are likely to be of a different
nature, but may still be equally personal, private and sensitive. If asked, unlike
older pupils, primary-aged children might feel more at ease with a familiar adult
than an outsider, but it might also be the case they too would feel more
comfortable being taught by and talking with an unfamiliar specialist. Nonetheless,
the Upper KS2 teachers considered their role in SRE to be important.
Mrs Blake: Well, in Year 5 we have the nurse in once a year, and she does --- .
The children watch a DVD and then we do a question and answer session
afterwards. And usually, partly that’s with the nurse. But then the nurse goes and
then we continue it because the children are comfortable talking to us. It’s just the
girls in Year 5. It does about their development. You know, girls and boys
development, but that’s about it, isn’t it?
Mr Drake: Mmm.
TW: So how do you feel about using an outsider?
Mrs Blake: Well it’s good when they know the nurse. You know, when she’s
regular. That’s when, but I think the children are more comfortable discussing is
with us. Well, rather me, because I do all the girls. Then in Year 6 they bring the
boys in, don’t they?
Mrs Moore: Yes, we then split into the girls and the boys. And the nurse comes
back and she does a session with both of them separately, and again the
discussion continues after the nurse is gone. They’re comfortable with their class
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teacher. And obviously, it’s great because they’ve got Robert [Marshall] and
obviously we’ve got Judith [Brown] in Year 6 as well. So, they’ve got a male and
a female teacher.
Evidence suggests that this kind of provision works well when it is an integral part
of SRE that complements the role of teachers (Alldred and David 2007; Halstead
and Reiss 2003). However, the limited nature of the curriculum at BCP meant that
in practice the school nurse was a relatively unfamiliar face for the children, and
relationships between her and teachers were tenuous, with little discussion taking
place about how the curriculum might be developed. In fact, the school nurse’s
sessions were at the core of the Year 6 SRE curriculum, with teachers’ follow-up
discussions more of a supplement to the information provided by the nurse, rather
than the reverse.
The teachers concluded that the teaching of SRE throughout the school would be
a positive addition to the curriculum. For most of the teachers a lack of confidence,
caused by dearth of training and experience led to an agreement that a set
scheme of work would be helpful. This way the teachers would know exactly what
to teach. They were also happy for outsiders to take on some of the teaching of
SRE, at least in the short run, so that they could build their own confidence by
learning from an “expert”. Both these measures, they opined, would serve to help
avoid mistakes and the annoyance of parents.
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4.3 Biology and the rejection of pleasure
In its 2013 Not Yet Good Enough report, Ofsted asserted that primary schools did
not do enough to address the physical aspects of SRE and that the failure to teach
children the ‘appropriate language’ left children ‘vulnerable to inappropriate sexual
behaviours and sexual exploitation’ (Ofsted 2013: 7). Rather vaguely, the DfEE’s
2000 SRE Guidance advises teachers that primary school children (no year group
or KS is stated) should learn ‘to name parts of the body and describe how their
bodies work’ (DfEE 2000: 19). The document then goes on to remind teachers of
the then statutory requirements for KS1 science deemed to relate to PSHE:
b) that animals including humans, move, feed, grow, use their
senses and reproduce
a) to recognise and compare the main external parts of the bodies
of humans
f) that humans and animals can produce offspring and these grow
into adults
4. a) to recognise similarities and differences between themselves
and others and treat others with sensitivity
(DfEE 2000: 20)
In neither the SRE Guidance (DfEE 2000) nor the National Curriculum (DfEE
1999) were schools given the specifics of what they should teach. This meant that
at BCP the science curriculum requirements were interpreted to include head,
hands, eyes, feet, etc., but with what Granger (2007: 3) refers to as ‘the great
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empty space, almost literally front and centre, where the genitalia ought to be, but
are not’. Indeed, Miss Kennedy reported that in a nearby school parents had been
sent a letter seeking permission for their children to be taught the scientific terms
for genitalia and that this had caused some parents to express their discontent via
Facebook. There was no legal requirement to ask for consent and this move might
well be interpreted as a lack of confidence on the part of the school and an
acknowledgement that they were proposing doing something that might be
considered not quite “proper”. By acting in this tentative way, it might even have
been the case that the school provoked this negative response from parents.
The revised NC (DfE 2013) serves teachers little better in stating that in Year 1
children should be taught to, ‘identify, name, draw and label the basic parts of the
human body and say which part of the body is associated with each sense’ (DfE
2013: 149). In the following non-statutory notes and guidance, teachers are
advised that:
Pupils should have plenty of opportunities to learn the names of the
main body parts (including head, neck, arms, elbows, legs, knees,
face, ears, eyes, hair, mouth, teeth) through games, actions, songs
and rhymes (DfE 2013: 141).
However, nowhere in the document does it explicitly state when children should
learn the names for and functions of genitalia, nor does it exclude the possibility.
Similarly, the 2018 draft RSE document requires that children are taught ‘that each
person’s body belongs to them, and the differences between appropriate and
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inappropriate or unsafe physical, and other, contact’ but still fails to specify any
content with regard to teaching about parts of the body (DfE 2018a: 160). It is only
in the non-statutory PSHE Association’s Programme of Study (POS) (2014) that
there is some clarity; at KS1, the document states, children should be taught ‘the
names for the main parts of the body (including external genitalia) [and] the
similarities and differences between boys and girls’ (PSHE Association 2014: 7).
With this lack of explicit direction in the statutory documents, it is little wonder that
questions around the teaching of the biological aspects of SRE were among those
that teachers found most difficult to resolve. During the first set of focus group
sessions teachers discussed the prospect of teaching the scientific terms for
genitalia and some teachers were very definite that KS1 children should be taught
the “correct” names:
Mrs Blake: So, definitely parts of the body . . . Because with my daughter I was
very open, you know. There weren’t any sort of barriers; if she asked it was
answered honestly. And my instincts are to be like that with children generally.
Mr Hall: It’s like things like wrist, knee, ankle, they’re just things that children don’t
know. So, from a language point of view it’s just a word really, isn’t it?
However, again the prospect of parental objections and rights arose, with Miss
Macintyre reflecting on her prior experience:
Miss Macintyre: We had a huge debate about it at my last school as to whether
to teach the technical terms to Year 1s: whether that was appropriate. So that
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went to the parents and they deemed it not appropriate, whereas I would have
been the other way ‘round and said they should know.
The Christopher Winter Project (2009) SRE scheme of work contained lessons for
Years 1 and 2 that focused on the physical differences between males and
females. For Year 1, this included looking at photographs of babies and naming
the penis and vagina. Teachers reached the conclusion, through discussion with
colleagues who had some experience of this, that parents would generally be
receptive to the idea that children would learn the names for genitalia and that the
Year 1 lesson was largely uncontroversial and unlikely to unleash a wave of
protest. In fact, some of the teachers thought parents might feel a sense of relief
that someone else would be tackling this subject on their behalf.
Mrs Blake: No, you see, I’m just speaking because we’ve just done the Year 5
talk to the girls and I had a few parents in and I went through what we were going
to be talking about. And the parents acknowledged that they are completely
embarrassed, and they wouldn’t want to have to say those things, and have that
talk, and mention “penis” and “vagina”. But they said, “That’s why we’re really glad
you’re doing it.” I don’t think, in my experience, and I’m sure that there are some
that will make a fuss but I think they’ll be in the minority. Most of the parents might
not use those words themselves but they want their children not to have any
inhibitions.
Mr Drake: I’m sure this is the thing. Once it’s been introduced, and it becomes
regular, these inhibitions will actually go away. Because children will be familiar
with using them and it won’t be an issue.
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******
Mrs Old: I would be surprised if there were that many parents who were worried.
I think they’d actually be quite happy //
Miss Redfearne: Do you think so?
Mrs Old: For you to be teaching their children that.
Miss Redfearne: Oh really, because it would take the onus off them. I see.
Mrs Old: And I think there would bring a maturity to it and a, you know, normality.
In an earlier focus group session, however, Mrs Brown, speaking more from her
position as a parent, was initially unhappy with the idea that children as young five
or six would be taught these terms:
Miss Thomson: We do labelling body parts. But we do the very simple: head,
shoulders, feet. We don’t go into any private parts, as you say. But the documents
I’ve been looking at recently suggested that that is part of the scheme.
Mrs Brown: I read a book once: Raising Boys5. Who’s it by? They said, any body
parts you should refer to by the correct name. As a parent, I don’t agree with that.
Miss Redfearne: Why?
Mrs Brown: I don’t know. I think for a child to be saying ---. I don’t know.
Miss Peake: It’s about innocence, isn’t it?
5
Biddulph, S. (2008) Raising Boys: Why Boys are Different – and How to Help Them
Become Happy and Well-balanced Men (2nd Ed.). Berkeley: Celestial Arts.
125
This was the only point during any of the focus group interviews that, although
they talked about ‘readiness’ and maturity’, teachers explicitly mentioned
children’s innocence. It is interesting to note that this occurs when Mrs Brown
positions herself as a parent rather than a teacher. It is this shift away from a
professional stance that seems to lead the two teachers to revert to the discourse
of innocence as a reason for not sharing information with children.
As part of the scheme of work for Year 2, children would be expected to watch a
short programme entitled ‘Differences’ from Channel Four’s All About Us: Living
and Growing DVD (Channel 4 2006). The film begins with two children, Jamahl
and Vicky, hunting for what they believe to be Jamahl’s male cat. When they find
the cat, they discover it has given birth to kittens and there ensues a discussion
about how we can tell the difference between male and female. In this section of
the film the children are shown standing side by side; they then transform into
naked cartoon versions of themselves. The film goes on to name and show what
it refers to as the ‘sex parts’ of the body (a term that teachers were not altogether
happy with as it might raise further questions), including penis, vagina and clitoris,
and there is a short exploration of pleasure and the normalcy of this. Following
protests from parents, governors and campaign groups including the Society for
the Protection of Unborn Children, and criticism from Minister of State for Schools
Nick Gibb, this version of the DVD was withdrawn in July 2012 to be replaced with
an alternative version omitting the cartoon section of the film (Davies 2013; Mail
on Sunday Reporter 2012; Pepper 2013). It was the prospect of Year 2 children
viewing the DVD that caused some consternation.
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Teachers were unsure and divided over the content of the DVD feeling that some
aspects, particularly the discussion of pleasure and identification of the clitoris,
should be left until later: possibly until high school. The absence of pleasure and
desire in SRE has been the subject of some considerable discussion among
feminist scholars (Alldred and David 2007; Allen 2007; Allen and Carmody 2012;
Fine 1988; Saunston 2013; Sundaram and Saunston 2016; Spencer, Maxwell and
Aggleton 2008). Teachers’ reluctance to discuss pleasure positions children and
young people as non-sexual beings and has been identified as potentially
problematic, particularly for girls and those who identify as LGBT+. This vacuum
in the curriculum represents a reduction of sex to the biological function of
reproduction, thereby delegitimising sex where this is not the aim. When pleasure
is acknowledged, there is a narrowing of this to a specific masculine model of
sexual pleasure that relies on penetration, rather than other forms of pleasurable
stimulation. Men and boys are painted as active pleasure seekers and girls and
women as passive pleasure givers. Thus, a particular form of heterosexual
relationship is portrayed as the norm. In this regard, then, SRE is less useful for
girls and LGBT+ pupils and positions them as Other in what is meant to be an
inclusive educational experience.
The teachers indicated that some of their discomfort arose from assigning adult
meanings to the DVD content rather than viewing it as children would. They also
recognised that for some children (including their own) the content of the DVD
might be reassuring and so, despite their own discomfort, they considered the
possibility that covering these issues might be important.
127
Miss Peake: You see, I think it’s one thing for them to know the names of what
they are, but if you’re going into “this can feel nice”, I think you’re taking it into//
Mrs Old: I think that’s perhaps where//
Mrs Garrow: That’s more sexualised.
Miss Peake: I think you can say, “We’re doing body parts: this is the penis, this
is the vagina”. But when you’re//
Mrs Garrow: It’s all about bodies though, isn’t it?
Mrs Old: And what worries me is a child who, you know. Obviously, Elliott [oldest
son] was worried about the feeling he was having.
Miss Peake: Yeah.
Mrs Old: He didn’t know whether it was right or not.
As the extracts from this discussion show, the whole subject left one group of
teachers in something of a quandary. It also led them to acknowledge the
playground as an educational site in its own right.
Miss Macintyre: I don’t know that I’ve really got a problem with that, but I don’t
know how comfortable I’d feel, in reality, if delivering it. In theory, I have no issues
with it. But again, if they ask I’ve got no problem telling them. But I’m not sure that
all of them would be mature enough at Year 2 to know all of that.
Mrs Brown: But maybe they would be. Maybe it’s just us underestimating the
fact that they might.
Miss Kennedy: And holding information back.
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Mrs Brown: Because, if it’s a gradual thing. First step in Year 1: look at naming
the part and then go into more detail. Then, maybe we’re more hung up on it than
they actually would be.
Mr Hall: But at the age of six, which is what some of these children are going to
be, do we really want to say to a six-year old//
Mrs Brown: I wouldn’t feel comfortable with my daughter watching that. No.
Mr Hall: And it’s the knock-on effect as well, of all the other children and how
they’re going to use that information. So, there’s a lot of work going to need to be
done on the sensitive nature of it and we don’t want them to go around saying,
“Does this happen to you?” to each other. And then that comes back then, “Well
that doesn’t happen to me so am I abnormal?”
Miss Kennedy: But it’s very hard to say this, well this is normal, so, this thing
we’re talking about, so don’t go and discuss it on the playground.
Mrs Brown: Because if it is normal why can’t we talk about it?
Miss Kennedy: How can we say one thing and the other.
Mr Hall: But it may not happen to them.
Miss Macintyre: But if they don’t get it from parents at all the playground might
be their best bet.
Miss Kennedy: Exactly.
As in Milton’s (2001) study, Miss Macintyre reflected the position of some of the
staff who felt that children should receive this kind of information but were uneasy
with being its transmitters. Simultaneously, there was a recognition that this was
potentially a problem for the adults involved rather than the children,
acknowledging that ‘I think it’s our issue, not their issue’ (Mrs Old).
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Having viewed this section of the film, staff wanted to position children as nonsexual but at the same time acknowledged their ‘fascination with their bodies’ (Mrs
Harvey). They talked about incidents of children masturbating in their own
classrooms and how they had dealt with these (From my own experience and
speaking to teachers at BCP and elsewhere, this is a far from uncommon
occurrence, especially in Early Years and KS1 classes.) The teachers had
employed a number of tactics with children that included speaking to parents,
distracting them, telling them to focus on the assigned task and taking them to one
side to explain that what they were doing was not appropriate for the classroom.
Consequently, some teachers concluded that although they would prefer not to
address this topic with children, they might consider doing so if they had a problem
with a particular class.
For some in this group of teachers, although they were surprised by the content
of the video, there was less of a problem with what children were learning than the
how. In terms of scientific understanding, the complex nature of some of the
images on the DVD (Channel 4 2006) caused some discussion around levels of
challenge, progression and presentation of information (see below).
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Fig. 1: (Channel 4 2006)
Fig. 2: (Channel 4 2006)
They thought the film was trying ‘to cover too many bases’ (Miss Redfearne) and
was too ‘pacey’ (Miss Peake), hypothesizing that the subject would need a lot of
scaffolding to make the film useful.
Miss Thomson: It seems a bit complicated for them to understand.
Mr Drake: And a Year 2’s probably more concerned with, and again not having
experience, external visual. And we can talk about that as they get older.
Mrs Blake: Do they know about things like the brain inside?
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Miss Thomson: All the organs//
Mrs Blake: The rest. It’s sort of like, it may be when you start getting into the
internal organs it should be part of other internal parts, if you know what I mean.
And that puts it in its place. In its context.
******
Mrs Blake: You see, there’s nothing wrong with doing the penis and the vagina
and also the clitoris, but then it’s the actual, it’s the science part. There’s nothing
wrong with the terms, in my opinion. I just think the science is too hard, and it will
confuse, because you’ve got some really nice learning going on.
Mr Mayall: Personally, I think it would probably confuse Year 4s. I mean, really,
it’s quite a mega-leap, isn’t it? It seems out of sync with the rest //
Mrs Blake: That’s what we do in Year 5. (To Mr Drake) You probably don’t even
know that. But the girls in Year 5, and you’ll do it next year with the boys.
Mr Drake: Showing an anatomically detailed internal structure without any
reasoning or labelling.
In this instance, the teachers were thinking in terms of educational attainment,
progression, pedagogical approaches and accessibility of resources rather than
in terms of acceptability and social consequences. They were addressing SRE as
they would any other subject, in this case as any other science lesson. This
approach to learning continued with the suggested use of anatomically correct
animal toys in the scheme of work.
Miss Thomson: I don’t see the point of using animals, as opposed to, you’ve got
babies and other things //
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Mrs Blake: No. I think you use them as well so they understand that all animals
have differences. You can spot the difference here. I mean you could have quite
a good and interesting discussion, you know, about the fact that a cat can feed
many kittens because it has so many nipples. You can get lots of interesting
discussions: why can’t men feed babies, because they have nipples?
Miss Thomson: I think that’s useful, in that way, relating to the animals, so they
see the similarities and with the birth, and with the kittens and things. But I don’t
understand the toys.
The question of whether lessons focusing on anatomy and difference were really
SRE lessons at all was raised, with some teachers thinking that these anatomical
aspects would be better located within the science curriculum.
Mrs Old: This certainly fits really well into the science curriculum; I don’t see why
you can’t hit a few PSHE objectives at the same time. . .
Teachers were worried that if they addressed these topics in science lessons it
would be difficult to unpack the legal position in terms of the ability of parents to
withdraw their children from SRE lessons. Mrs Old realised that ‘It doesn’t tell you
in the National Curriculum, that’s statutory, which specific detail to go into.’ Miss
Redfearne then agreed that science was the obvious lesson in which to label all
the external body parts, leading Mrs Old to wonder ‘ . . . at the moment a parent
would have the right to say “I do not want my child to have this education taught”,
but if it’s through science they can’t do that. Right?’ This once more raised the
issue of parental reactions and the ability of parents to withdraw children, as,
unlike SRE, ‘anything you put under that science heading is compulsory’ (Miss
Redfearne). Teachers were concerned that if they insisted this was part of the
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science curriculum and that all children needed to attend those lessons it would
result in angry parents, albeit a small minority. Here there is evidence of the
confusing position in which the statutory elements of both the NC (DfEE 1999; DfE
2013) and the non-statutory guidance (DfEE 2000) places teachers, a position that
remains unresolved with the new RSE Draft Guidance (DfE 2018a). Separating
out non-compulsory sex education from compulsory science and relationships
education will be challenging due to their intertwined nature, and this may cause
schools to be excessively cautious in their approach to curriculum design and
delivery for fear of stepping outside of the legal requirement that parents can
withdraw their children from sex education.
Frequently, the justification put forward for teaching SRE is related to child
protection (Brook, PSHE Association and SEF 2014; House of Commons
Education Committee 2015; PSHE Association 2014, 2016). Although this was a
topic barely touched upon during the teachers’ discussions (possibly because the
school already did so much work on safeguarding aside from SRE), Mrs Old did
feel the teaching of the biological aspects of SRE might be an opportunity to
explore issues of child abuse.
Mrs Old: The thing for me is then linking it into the conversations of – I mean, so
you have the conversation of nobody has a right to, you know, touch you there if
you don’t want them to. You know//
However, the focus of the physical aspects of SRE in relation to safeguarding
misses the importance of the development of interpersonal and intrapersonal skills
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through PSHE and SRE and of developing an understanding of the characteristics
of positive relationships, in contrast to those that are unhealthy.
None of the groups came to a definitive conclusion of exactly what they would
want to teach in this area of the curriculum. Overall, they felt no strong objection
to teaching any aspects that were shown on the DVD, but at the same time
expressed no strong inclination to share all the information shown with their
classes (even in KS2) and a definite disinclination to use the DVD in its entirety to
cover the topic. In essence, the basic differentiation of female and male bodies
through the identification of the vagina and penis was deemed appropriate and
KS1 an opportune time to cover this.
4.4 Educating children for future success: teenage pregnancy and class
Education has long been viewed as a route to upward social mobility (HM
Government 2011; Walkerdine, Lucey and Melody 2001). However, defining class
is far from straightforward. Factors such as the demise of manufacturing in the UK
and the obliteration of mining during the 1980s and 1990s, which in some regions
led to the advent of a highly visible, unemployed “underclass”, have undermined
an individual’s job as a solid point of reference for those interested in referencing
class as means of identification (either of themselves or others) (Walkerdine,
Lucey and Melody 2001). As such, families in Walkerdine, Lucey and Melody’s
(2001) examination of gender and class, Growing Up Girl, located themselves
within a class based not solely on their position in the labour market or wealth but
on a variety of factors, including where they lived, interests, and education.
135
In the run-up to the 1997 election, the Labour Party promised to boost higher
education attendance (ultimately to 50% by 2010) and since that time the widening
participation mantra has evolved, reinforcing the viewpoint that higher education
attendance, leading to economically productive and skilled individuals, is the ideal
(Blair 2001: n.p.; HM Government 2011). Previously seen as a “natural” trajectory
for the middle-classes, successive policies and rising student numbers have
ensured that it is no longer only the “well-to-do” who are expected to live a middleclass life, with all its material trappings and social expectations. In her examination
of the impact of popular culture on the image of working-class girls and women,
Walkerdine (1997) argues that middle-class values and lifestyle have come to be
seen as “the norm”. Within this framework, the working-class is viewed as a threat
to middle-class order. Working-class women often hold aspirations that run
counter to those dominant middle-class notions of achievement (Egan 2013;
Walkerdine 1997).
Education and a professional career are not what everybody desires. Poorer
sections of society and traveller communities, for example, sometimes subscribe
to a more traditional form of the family with gender roles that are closer to the
idealised lifestyles of the middle classes in the 1950s than the 21st century
(Haywood and Yar 2006; Tyler 2008). This, combined with an increasingly
consumption-based assessment of what represents class, means that girls are
particularly vulnerable to censure (Braggs 2011; Egan 2013; Walkerdine 1997).
While these individuals and groups may regard themselves and their material
possessions with pride, they are also vulnerable to attack from those who conform
more closely to the current middle-class norms.
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In her exploration of the ‘chav’ and the term’s associated negative connotations,
Tyler (2008) highlights consumer culture as a middle-class means of identifying
class. The rise of the chav, an identifiable member of an (undeserving) underclass
with a penchant for ‘cheap brands of cigarette, cheap jewellery, branded sports
tops, gold-hooped earrings, sovereign rings, [and] Burberry baseball caps’,
represents a particularly damning marker of, almost always white, lower-class
origins for those outside this group (Tyler 2008: 21). No matter how the chavs
regard themselves, the signifiers of the chav, and within that grouping the teenage
girls she describes as the 'chav mum' are widely regarded as ‘vulgar’.
Simultaneously, the fashion choices of working-class girls more broadly have
been identified as sexual. Playboy accessories, exposed thongs, shorts and tops
that display a girl’s midriff have all attained sexual connotations that are then
attached to the wearer as indicators of knowingness, experience and availability,
in addition to class. These girls challenge the discourse of girlhood innocence
rooted in middle-class expectations. As Bragg (2011: 289) explains, ‘[c]lass-based
connotations in reading potentially sexual products as ‘tasteful’ or ‘slutty’ have
invidious consequences for working-class girls in particular.’
At BCP there was more than one way to ‘do’ girl and ‘do’ boy, but legitimate
expressions were entrenched within a framework of normative heterosexuality,
with the body as the determiner of gender and sexuality. The relative power
associated with these various femininities and masculinities was quite clearly
contextually determined. It was apparent that some working-class girls inhabited
a familial and social space where a specific model of hyper-femininity was valued
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(not the virtuous princess but the sexually alluring reality TV celebrity) (Egan 2013;
Paechter 2006b; Renold 2005). Young girls would appear on non-uniform days,
at fayres and parties proudly sporting their recently purchased high heels, tiny
skirts or shorts, cut-off tops (often referred to by the girls as “slapper tops”) and
showing just a hint of a bra-top. They would happily share photographs of their
sisters and cousins with their new babies and on the playground parents would
display their teenage daughters’ new offspring with pride.
This is a model in which girls acquire symbolic capital from their appearance. Later
this might develop further into a career or role as mother (Kehily 2012).
Simultaneously, within their school lives, this social capital is institutionally
denigrated in favour of a middle-class model of achievement that gives primacy to
educational and, ultimately, economic success (Allen and Osgood 2009;
McRobbie 2007). In my experience as a primary school teacher, those girls who
combined a working-class image with academic commitment were often
simultaneously pitied and nurtured by teachers, and found it difficult to fit
comfortably into a friendship group among their peers.
For boys, this model of conflict was not so clear cut, for both at home and school
“physical” masculinity was both prized and encouraged. At school this physicality
was accepted as part of sports. In boys’ wider social world, with their families,
friends and on the streets where they played, this might also encompass the idea
that boys should “stand up for themselves” and “act like a man”. While teachers
sometimes complained of boys’ failure to engage academically, they remained
eager to promote boys’ athletic prowess and to rationalise their educational
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failings as an unsurprising symbol of their (working-class) boyhood. Regardless
of class, at no point did teachers identify boys’ displays of sexuality as problematic
or detrimental to their prospects. Staff, therefore, acted to reinforce the
characteristics associated with hegemonic masculinity at BCP: hegemonic boys
were sporty, outspoken and were never seen to work “too hard”. For their peers,
these boys’ academic achievements were all but irrelevant. Their domination of
others, both in and out of the classroom, was effectively sanctioned by the school.
Echoing the dominant discourse surrounding education, employment and social
mobility, teachers in this study voiced the opinion that education can be a pathway
out of poverty. Their ideal was that children’s life chances would be improved by
going to university, getting a good job and fulfilling the “neoliberal dream”.
Mr Marshall: I actually educate people to get to, ideally, to university; to get the
best job they possibly can; to have an adult relationship at the correct time; and to
have a family when you have the maturity to have a family.
Implicit here is the idea that starting a family can and should wait. Young
parenthood should be avoided for young people to progress. Indeed, it is the case
that the success of sex education is frequently judged on the basis of rates of
teenage pregnancy (Alldred and David 2007; Mason 2010; Thomson 1994). This
concern is reflected in longstanding government policy. For example, in 1999 the
Teenage Pregnancy Strategy was launched with the aim of addressing the social
problems believed to be associated with young motherhood (Allen et al 2007;
Department for Children Schools and Families (DCSF) and Department of Health
139
(DOH) 2010; Walker 2004). These principles were then enshrined in the 2000
SRE Guidance in its statement that: ‘the key task for schools is, through
appropriate information and effective advice on contraception and on delaying
sexual activity, to reduce the incidence of unwanted pregnancies’ (DfEE 2000:16).
This was a strategy repeatedly reinforced through initiatives such as Every Child
Matters (HM Treasury 2003), that located young parenthood alongside other
social ills:
Our aim is to ensure that every child has the chance to fulfil their
potential by reducing levels of educational failure, ill health, substance
misuse, teenage pregnancy, abuse and neglect, crime and anti-social
behaviour among children and young people.
(HM Treasury, 2003:6)
By 2010, there was a clear statement from the government that it is girls and their
babies that are likely to suffer the consequences of teenage pregnancy:
And while for some young women having a child when young can
represent a positive turning point in their lives, for many more
teenagers bringing up a child is incredibly difficult and often results in
poor outcomes for both the teenage parent and the child, in terms of
the baby’s health, the mother’s emotional health and well-being and
the likelihood of both the parent and child living in long-term poverty.
(DfSCF & DoH 2010: 7)
140
As Alldred and David (2007) point out, within the context of a political climate
where education has increasingly been employed as a tool to tackle social
problems rather than maintaining a single-minded focus on academic success, it
is in the discussion around teenage pregnancy that gender comes to the forefront
in education policy in a unique way. Although it is certainly realistic to acknowledge
that girls are likely to feel the impact of parenthood far more than boys, there are
negative consequences to this approach to teenage pregnancy. As an obvious
sign that a girl has been sexually active, this leads to her marginalisation within
the education system, and leaves her open to abuse, being thought of as a ‘slut’
and stupid (Alldred and David 2007; Chambers, van Loon and Tincknell 2004;
Fine 1988; Lees 1996). Examining secondary schools, Chambers, van Loon and
Tincknell (2004) interrogated teachers’ attitudes towards the development of
pupils’ sexual identity and how they frame this within a discourse of morality. They
concluded that the way girls are viewed contains inherent contradictions: for
teachers it is important that girls are informed in order that they can protect
themselves but at the same time there was an association of ‘sexual awareness’
with ‘sexual promiscuity’ and pregnancy (Chambers, van Loon and Tincknell 2004:
565). ‘Girls who became pregnant were often perceived as social failures and
were blamed because they ‘let things happen’ (Chambers, van Loon and Tinknell
2004: 571).
BCP was located in an area of relatively high rates of teenage pregnancy,
especially when compared to the rest of the county in which it was located.
Discussing the subjects they felt should be covered in SRE led some of the
teachers to broach the subject of how this might be addressed within school.
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Mr Marshall: Teenage pregnancy is one that occurs to me, and I guess that
would fall in all types of families, perhaps.
Miss Kennedy: In this school.
Mr Marshall: Particularly in this school. This area. You’d have to make sure you
got the legal side across. Again, would that be a Key Stage 1 issue? Probably not.
But there can be quite a difference between siblings sometimes. So there could
be a Key Stage 1 child whose 14-, 15 year-old//
Mrs Old: Or Key Stage 2 child.
Mr Marshall: Yes. A 14-, 15 year-old brother or sister could be pregnant.
Miss Kennedy: If you said the legal aspect of it, if you’ve got a child whose 14
year-old sister was pregnant, do you teach them that’s actually illegal?
Mr Marshall: Don’t know.
Miss Kennedy: Because it is, like you said, the fact and that is what you should
be teaching them. But is that going to help?
Mrs Old: I think at Key Stage 1 they haven’t got enough understanding of how
old 14 is.
Mr Marshall: I don’t think we should be celebrating it, because I think if you
celebrate it you might be on slightly dodgy ground: legally.
Mrs Old: Yes.
Miss Kennedy: We celebrate in class when babies are born//
Mr Marshall: Well, we do. I’ve seen it before now. We’ve congratulated 15-year
olds in terms of, “What a lovely baby.” One, it’s illegal. Two, most of the research
shows that it’s going to have a major impact on your life, often negatively initially.
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And I, as an educator, I don’t really feel it’s appropriate to be pregnant at 15, 16. I
mean, that’s a personal thing.
Miss Kennedy: I agree with that.
One of the teachers had found herself pregnant at a young age and, despite her
ultimately successful education and career, would discuss with her class the
challenges she encountered in consequence of her early motherhood.
Mrs Brown: You know, some of them come from really challenging backgrounds,
and I’ll say. You’ve got something there now. Now go and make something of
yourself. But again, should I be saying that? I say, “You’ve got those qualifications,
you could really do well in your life.” I tell them, “I had a child when I was 19 and
it was a tough slog.” But then me//
Miss Redfearne: Do you say?
Mrs Brown: I do. I tell my children [her class]: “Having a child at 19, I wouldn’t
change it, but life’s been very, very difficult. And I’ve had to work hard to get
through all of this, because I had a baby to look after. So, if you’ve got these
aspirations, then certain things can come later on.”
Miss Redfearne: But that’s good, because you’re pulling on something that . . .
Surely no-one can judge you, because you’re saying some people have children
when they’re 19. If I said that, I haven’t got children, so some people who have
children as teenagers --- you’re saying look I’ve done it.
Mrs Brown: I’ve not done what a lot of, what they expect a 19-year old to do. You
know, I’ve gone and done this.
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Miss Redfearne: But it’s not judgemental. I think if I was talking about it, it could
come across as judgemental: having a child at 19. You want to make a better life
for yourself, well you have. But some people might see that and say, “Well if you’re
19 and have a child, you can’t.”
Miss Thomson: You’re obviously not telling them what to do, you’re telling them
your experiences and they can take advice from that.
At first glance it may seem that Mrs Brown is working against Wallis and
VanEvery’s (2000: 415) assertion that: ‘The teacher is also expected to be a role
model for “moral values”, and in this capacity will praise, gently chide or discipline
children according to their behaviour’. However, although Mrs Brown was setting
herself up as a cautionary tale, she clearly saw and presented herself as a story
of success against the odds. What all the teachers here failed to acknowledge
was that Mrs Brown’s circumstances were quite different from the teenage
pregnancies they were most disturbed by: of girls whose family history and social
context meant that young motherhood would not be regarded as stepping out of
the norm and for whom the prospect of a new baby might well be celebrated,
rather than lamented. Unlike these girls, Mrs Brown did not get pregnant until she
was 19, with family support went to university, established a successful career,
married and had another child. Mrs Brown’s story is something of a middle-class
morality tale, with a happy ending.
This focus on teenage pregnancy further illustrates the teachers’ broader focus on
the long-term impact of early education and the need for progression in knowledge
and understanding over time. It also highlights the gendered nature of SRE in
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schools. Although none of the participants suggested that children in KS1 should
be warned of the consequences of early parenthood, they were considering how
education at a young age and the way school staff reacted to news of young
motherhood would lay the foundations for later discussions along these lines.
4.5 What makes a family?: teachers’ views on teaching about diversity
The DfEE’s SRE Guidance (2000: 4) was clear in its emphasis on ‘the importance
of marriage for family life and bringing up children’. Since this guidance pre-dates
the legalisation of both civil partnerships and same-sex marriage, the implication
here seems clear: what was referred to was very explicitly marriage (as opposed
to any other form of partnership) between a man and a woman. The
documentation continued to state that children should also be taught ‘the
significance of marriage and stable relationships as key building blocks of
community and society’ and emphasised that ‘[c]are needs to be taken to ensure
that there is no stigmatisation of children based on their home circumstances’
(DfEE 2000: 4). Despite the reference to ‘stable relationships’, the guidance came
with a clearly stated moral compass that did not align with the family lives of many
primary pupils or their teachers.
The 2018 draft guidance (DFE 2018a) states that children should know:
•
that others’ families, either in school or in the wider world,
sometimes look different from their family, but that they should
respect those differences and know that other children’s families
are also characterised by love and care for them.
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•
that stable, caring relationships, which may be of different types,
are at the heart of happy families, and are important for children’s
security as they grow up.
•
that marriage /civil partnership represents a formal and legally
recognised commitment of two people to each other which is
intended to be lifelong (DfE 2018a: 16).
There is still no requirement for pupils to learn about LGBT+ families when the
topic of ‘different family types’ is addressed (Stonewall 2018). Furthermore, the
emphasis on the positive nature of these relationships may not reflect those
experienced by children.
During the mind mapping activity gathering ideas about topics that might be
covered in SRE at KS1, teachers were adamant that they should be teaching
children about different kinds of families: ‘all different shapes and sizes’ (Mrs
Blake). Miss Kennedy pointed out that the subject of families arises on a regular
basis throughout the curriculum and in unplanned ways, for example when
teaching history or when making Mother’s and Father’s Day cards. The teachers
also continued to draw upon their personal experiences and reflected upon the
family make-up of children in their classes to work through their ideas and feelings
about curriculum content in this regard.
Miss Thomson: I know we looked at different families when I was at school.
Because I’ve got five sisters, and two are from my dad in a different relationship,
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and then there’s three of us. My friends found that difficult to understand. So that’s
an opportunity to talk through that.
The absence of one parent through divorce, separation or bereavement was a
topic of conversation. Statistics gathered by Child Bereavement UK (a charitable
organisation dedicated to supporting schools, families and professionals to help
children who have suffered a bereavement) show that 5% of children experience
the death of a parent and 92% of someone close to them by the age of 16 (Child
Bereavement UK; Drabble 2013: n.p.). The Office of National Statistics (ONS)
reported that ‘[t]here were 94,864 children aged under 16 who were in families
where the parents divorced in 2013 . . . 64% were under 11’ (ONS 2015: np).
While accurate figures for cohabiting parents are more difficult to acquire, Benson
(2009, cited in Goodman and Greaves 2010: 2), basing his analysis on the
Millennium Cohort Study, found that 27% of couples who ‘were cohabiting when
their child was born have separated by the time the child is aged 5, compared with
9% of couples that were married when their child was born.’ Despite these figures,
neither divorce nor bereavement specifically feature in the DfEE’s SRE Guidance
(2000). They do, however, appear as issues to be addressed at KS2 as part of the
PSHE Association’s POS (Key Stages 1–4) (2014). Here these two issues are
highlighted within the Core Theme of ‘Health and Wellbeing’ and teachers are
advised that children should be taught ‘about change, including transitions
(between Key Stages and schools), loss, separation, divorce and bereavement’
(PSHE Association 2014: 8). The POS also states that teachers need to ‘remain
flexible as events such as bereavement might require learning to be drawn from
Key Stage 2 into Key Stages 1’ (PSHE Association 2014: 7). Given the prevalence
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of these two life events, it is unsurprising that teachers at BCP had occasion to
discuss them with children as they had arisen in their classes:
Mr Hall: I think I had, not last year the year before, three or four families split up
that year. Which I’d not experienced in the past, but it’s over 10% of the class.
Mrs Moore: Did you deal with that through circle time or anything?
Mr Hall: Yes, we talked about lots of different things, because some children see
mum certain days and dad certain days. So they’re worried. We always go through
the point of view that you’ll have two places to sleep, two X-boxes, and they’re
quite liking the idea then. So, it’s just trying to make them believe that it’s okay.
You tend to find that other children do it as well. I remember, it’s slightly different:
bereavement. A little girl lost her dad. It was at the beginning of Year 1. He had a
heart attack in August and she started in September. And she found it very difficult
for the first couple of months. And then somebody else lost an aunty, and she was
amazing. She was talking to them, explaining to them, and saying, “Are you okay?”
You see this, but then, so we use them as a resource, possibly, as well.
It was against this background that the participants felt that there would be times
when death and bereavement would need to be discussed with a class.
Sometimes this would be due to the death of someone close to a pupil, but most
frequently the result of the death of a pet. They did not, however, feel that the
subject needed to be part of the general SRE or PSHE curriculum at this stage in
pupils’ lives (although it was not something to be avoided either), as experience
told teachers that the subject of death could often make children unduly anxious.
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Consistently, teachers advocated a curriculum, both implicit and explicit, that
would allow children to explore their own life experiences and to develop a clearer
understanding of the world around them. The desire for children to feel valued, no
matter what their family circumstances, was a paramount concern as was an
acknowledgment that children should be listened to and appreciated as a source
of knowledge and support for their classmates. However, reflecting a wider
picture, there was still some reticence around the subject of same-sex
relationships and families.
In 2014, YouGov, on behalf of the charity Stonewall, surveyed 1,832 secondary
and primary school teachers and found that 56% of primary school teachers polled
did not address the issue of same-sex relationships when covering the topic of
families (Guasp 2014: 1). With these groups of teachers, the question of whether
to address same-sex relationships quickly arose. This led to individuals
confronting a range of conflicting feelings about the topic as a subject to be taught
to young children. Again, teachers drew upon their own experiences to try to
develop a coherent viewpoint.
Miss Peake: Same-sex families as well.
Mrs Brown: That’s when it becomes awkward though, doesn’t it?
Mrs Harvey: Isn’t that our preconceptions around that? Yes, I mean, I’ve got a
boy in nursery whose mum is living with another woman.
Mrs Brown: Well my dad is [living with a man]. But I don’t know that I’d want to
talk about it at that age.
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Miss Thomson: Joanna’s [Year 1 pupil] just brought photos in [to class] of her
bridesmaid’s dress and was showing it. And it was a same-sex relationship.
Miss Peake: It’s difficult because I think that it’s something you’ve got to address
because nowadays it’s quite, not common, but it’s more acceptable, isn’t it?
Mr Mayall: Would it be worth looking at the reasons for relationships? What’s the
importance of relationships? Why do we have relationships? I mean, the stability
of families – whether it’s same-sex, marriage, step families . . .
Here, implicit in Mr Mayall’s statement, there seems to be the underlying
assumption that children should be taught that healthy relationships have certain
characteristics and these are the common to all types of families. Same-sex
families are just one among many types that should be treated equally and without
a special focus or fuss. Others seemed to think that addressing the question of
same-sex families should be a priority only if they were aware that children in their
class came from this type of family. Again, there was an underlying assumption
that children will come from a heterosexual family, and alternatives were seen as
exceptional. Also, at no point did teachers consider LGBT+ families more broadly.
There was, however, recognition among the teachers of the need for children to
feel included and valued, no matter what their family circumstances.
Miss Peake: I wonder if it would differ then, for a class where it arose that you’ve
got a same-sex couple. Perhaps you’d explore that avenue, but perhaps you
wouldn’t in so much detail if you didn’t within your class.
Miss Redfearne: You’re ostracising that child as well. You wouldn’t want to make
them feel uncomfortable. Because when I was at school, my best friend – her mum
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left her dad for another woman - and I didn’t understand that at all. Even at eleven
I couldn’t understand that concept. And she didn’t want anyone else to know,
because she would worry about how her peers would relate to that.
Some of the teachers felt that discussing a range of different kinds of families,
including same-sex relationships, would ideally be undertaken at KS1 rather than
later. This was partly out of concern for the pupils. Teachers felt that children
needed to understand what they would see and hear in the playground and
beyond the school gates. They were also keen to validate children’s experiences
and to put them at ease. Although it should not preclude explicit teaching in
discrete lessons, teachers also felt that the topic should be embedded into lessons
more generally and questions covered as the need arose.
Mr Hall: I think it actually could be taught, but then as part of PSHE as well. Like,
when we go through certain things, you end up, you discuss the subject with the
children. Because, they might say, you know: ‘So-and-so came round to see me.’
Or, ‘My uncle brought his boyfriend round to see me.’ And then all the children
start. And you say it’s okay. You know your mum’s got your dad and different
people have different partners, friends and different people who live with them. I
think today you see so many different things on the television. That they
experience so many different things that would we say it’s unfair that we’re not
exposing them to it and teaching them it’s okay. It’s normal. It’s not something you
should worry about.
******
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Mrs Blake: I think as well, in Key Stage 1 the children are less inhibited and by
the time you get, believe it or not, to our end of the school you’ve got --- . In Year
6, then children know that their parents don’t react well to same-sex couples, just
for example. And they obviously mimic that behaviour. And I would think, that in
Key Stage 1 that that was the time to introduce those comments, very naturally. I
wouldn’t say I’m going to have a specific lesson. You know, you’re having a
science lesson and there are elements you can weave through the science lesson.
******
Miss Macintyre: To me it’s about treating it as the norm. I know I read a book last
year called King and King6, and it was really well done. And that was obviously a
gay couple. And they found all these princesses for this prince to marry and then
he found a prince he wanted to marry and they became king and king. But it was
done in such a – it was subtle – even though that was something was to us, isn’t
//
Mrs Moore: Did you have a discussion around that or was it purely a story.
Miss Mcintyre: It was used for discussions. I deliberately used it as part of SRE,
but we did it in story time. So it wasn’t a separate lesson.
While, for a variety of reasons, most of the teachers felt that same-sex
relationships should be explored in SRE, for some a lack of confidence, of
6
De Haan, L. and Nijland, s. (2002) King and King. Berkeley: Tricycle Press.
Here Miss Macintyre is speaking about here experience as a Year 2 teacher in her
former school.
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personal experience and of general understanding were seen as a barrier to
achieving this. For some of the teachers, at least, there was still an underlying
attachment to normative heterosexuality that provoked uncertainty and anxiety.
Miss Redfearne: I think I’d want to have clarification on marriage generally.
Maybe you don’t have to – it does link in with relationships, surely. The concept of
marriage, I suppose I have my own preconceptions about it, therefore you don’t
want to instil that in the children. For example, same-sex marriages – it’s not
something I know about. And I don’t know how far you can go when teaching
you’re teaching children. Is it the norm, or do men and women just get married? I
mean, what’s the answer? Therefore, I’d want more clarification on that, I think.
Studies have shown the potential impact of teachers’ personal beliefs and values
on their willingness to teach SRE and to cover particular topics, and on their
approach to teaching (Kehily 2002; Walker and Milton 2006). Kehily’s (2002)
research examined the complex link between four teachers’ and one school
nurse’s own experiences of learning about sex as young people and how their
gendered life histories affected their practice. She demonstrated that personal
moral values impacted upon the way practitioners viewed SRE and their roles as
teachers of sex education. Similarly, within this study, it was repeatedly evident
that teachers’ biographies and moral values played a part in their approach to the
issue of KS1 SRE, with one teacher expressing discomfort based upon her
religious beliefs when the subject was of same-sex relationships was raised. She
then returned once more to the notion that children should be informed when they
are ready or when they ask questions.
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Mrs Garrow: I must admit that that’s something I struggle with. Not that I wouldn’t
be accepting to a same-sex relationship. I would. I would welcome them into my
classroom and I would talk to them like I would any other parents. And that’s up
to them. But as a practising Christian I struggle with it. It’s against the teachings
of the bible. So, I personally struggle with it. It’s not that you – the teaching’s not
against homosexuality or lesbians as such; it’s the act of homosexuality.
Later the group returned to the topic, with Mr Marshall and Mrs Old, in particular,
challenging Mrs Garrow’s viewpoint:
Mrs Garrow: I worry that if we make a big issue of this, it becomes very
normalised and I still don’t think it’s normal for most people.
Miss Kennedy: But maybe there are certain parts of this that you would address
if you need to.
Mrs Garrow: I think that – I accept it happens. And that’s okay if people choose
to do it that’s up to them, but I wouldn’t want to think that children are educated
into thinking that we all go and do it.
Mr Marshall: I would be the other way ‘round.
Mrs Old: I would be exactly the same.
Mr Marshall: I would like it to be included in Key Stage 1.
Mrs Old: I think, actually, that we need to normalise it. That’s where I think – but
that’s a difference in our own opinion. And that’s a debate.
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This discussion did lead teachers to consider further how the topic of same-sex
relationships might be addressed, with the idea of using stories to engage children
being proposed.
During focus group sessions, it became evident that most of the teachers
respected diversity in the sexuality of the children and their families. However,
their discussion was still suffused with heteronormative assumptions. All the
teachers expressed at least a tolerance for homosexuality and same-sex
relationships, but the extent to which this was the case varied. Religious beliefs
and personal experiences were drawn upon to justify and inform individuals’
positions relating to teaching pupils about sexuality.
These teachers understood and had considerable experience of the vast range of
family types from which children came. The central issue for them was the need
to support children to understand their experiences, to develop an understanding
of the lives of others and to value their own and others’ families. SRE, for these
teachers, was not just about preparing these children for the future, but to support
them in their understanding of family relationships as they currently encountered
and experienced them.
4.6 The heterosexual classroom
All but one teacher expressed a specific desire to be proactive in promoting an
anti-homophobia agenda through SRE, while some went further, rhetorically at
least, considering this an opportunity to teach children about the meaning and
value of diversity. None, however, sought to directly expose or challenge the
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heterosexist assumptions that underpinned everyday life in the school or wider
society (Epstein 1997; Haywood and Mac an Ghaill 2001; Macintosh 2007;
Paechter 2006a; Renold 2000; Vavrus 2009; Youdell 2006). Aligned to this
discussion was the subject of gender identity and stereotyping, and whether and
how this should be tackled with young children. Here teachers also considered the
extent of children’s prior knowledge and from where that might come, and how
children would define ‘girl’ and ‘boy’ in their everyday lives:
Mrs Brown: But then he might ask, “Why? Why does that make you a girl?” Or,
“Does that particular make you a boy?” There’s a difference between the physical
aspect and the //
Miss Macintyre: The feelings and the emotional side.
Mr Mayall: It would be interesting to see whether they identified a physical
difference or characteristics.
Mrs Harvey: Or characteristics. Yes.
*****
Miss Peake: Because some of them might not even be aware that there is a
physical difference. If you’ve got no brothers, and you’re a house full of girls, you’ll
probably, at a very young age, not be aware that there is a physical difference.
Mrs Brown: When they see it they ask what it is.
Miss Peake: Yes.
As part of the Christopher Winter Project (2009) scheme of work, children are
invited to look at a variety of images of objects and to decide if the objects would
be suitable for a girl, a boy or both. The teachers considered this to be a valuable
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activity that could serve to begin to challenge stereotypes. Yet, at the same time,
some teachers were still reluctant to accept the troubling of aesthetic gender
norms. A pair of pink, glitter-covered hair clips provoked conversation with one
group.
Mr Hall: That’s more common today. Even now I’ve got (Mr Hall indicates a pony
tail sported by one of the boys in his Year 1 class) and that can actually be --- //
Mrs Brown: I know. I know.
Mr Hall: And it does cause some upset as well, because of some of the remarks
around, “Oh, you’re not supposed to have --- .”
Miss Macintyre: I think we should challenge //
Mr Hall: But then.
Mrs Brown: Oh, I agree. But I think those hair clips should stick to the girl. Come
on!
Miss Kennedy: Yeah, but there’s a difference between //
Mrs Brown: We’re being politically correct.
Implicit here is the notion of limited acceptable ways of doing boy and doing girl,
and the assumption that feminine masculinity equates to homosexuality (Paechter
2006a). The discussion then considered footballers who wear headbands and the
acceptability of the ‘tomboy’ image for girls as opposed to a ‘girly-boy’ persona.
Miss Macintyre: But why is it that way round? Girls who dress like boys are just
tomboys, and that’s quite normal to be a tomboy. But it’s much less acceptable to
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be a boy coming in girly-type stuff. I know full well that the second we get out the
dress-up half the boys are in girls’ stuff. Inverted commas: girls’ stuff.
Mr Marshall: I disagree. I think they should be in there. And if a boy said he did
like the pink paperclip – hairclip, sorry – the interesting conversation for me would
be, “That’s absolutely fine, but you may receive some teasing”, for instance.
Because it still isn’t that acceptable//
Miss Macintyre: Or accepted.
Mr Marshall: Or accepted. For boys to go around wearing hairclips, or indeed pink
hairclips, but there’s nothing wrong with that if that’s what you want to do. I would
probably get that expression out again: “be yourself”’. But you do expect, perhaps,
to get some comments.
Mr Hall: I think we’re educating them. But the deep roots of what they’re getting
from home, those stereotypes can be very far in-grained. So that’s what we’ve got
to combat in school.
Despite earlier assertions, some teachers were again expressing the need to
battle outside influences and to promote a social justice agenda. This group
articulated the importance of lessons that tackled heteronormative expressions of
identity rooted in the body and was keen to tackle bigotry and promote self-worth.
Mr Hall: I think it comes back to being flexible and saying, “It’s allowed. It’s normal
today.” The stereotypes. We need to get away from stereotypes more and more
today.
Miss Kennedy: I think we’re here to do it, aren’t we?
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Mr Hall: Yes, because it’s a controlled environment where you can introduce the
vocabulary. People who are sitting on one side of the fence too far, because I’ve
taught – unbelievable – by the age of four were incredibly racist and that. And
those opinions come from the wrong place. Well, they’re not educated opinions.
Saying it’s acceptable //
Mrs Brown: But sometimes you’re fighting a losing battle there.
Miss Macintyre: I still think you should fight it though, whether you’re winning or
not.
Mr Marshall: Yes, keep up the battle, as it were.
Some teachers spoke of boys, including their own, experimenting with toys and
games traditionally considered more appropriate for girls.
Mrs Garrow: I have a problem with pink. I mean, boys playing with what’s
supposed to be girls’ toys. I mean, my kids, I’ve got two boys, they both had
pushchairs and teddies and dolls, and they were there to play with if they wanted.
They played with them for a bit and then discarded them --- .
This kind of behaviour was accepted and even facilitated, but was usually seen as
a “phase”. However, in the case of one child teachers felt something very different
was happening, and ideas of what is “natural” or “normal” came to the fore:
Mrs Harvey: Because very early on, we get children in nursery who say, “You
can’t play with that because you’re a girl.”
TW: Yes.
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Mrs Harvey: “You can’t have that because you’re a boy.”
Miss Peake: Yes.
Mrs Harvey: But, I mean, we do, I mean the dressing up clothes, there is one
child in particular who wants to wear a dress every day. And, occasionally, there
are other boys that will //
Mrs Old: I think we have to remember that, you know, boys and girls are wiredup differently. So, girls automatically, although there are some exceptions, and
some tomboys who love to go and play rough. But, in general, boys love the rough
and tumble, and the big movements, and the running around, and you know so
there’s that as well.
Throughout the focus group interviews Mrs Old had been a strong advocate of
children’s right to be well-informed regardless of parental opposition and the need
for them to be taught to value diversity, yet of all the teachers interviewed she
most starkly expressed an attachment to embedded notions of what it is to be
female or male. This was despite anecdotal evidence from all the staff that children
in their care did not all conform to these stereotypes and that they suspected that
some did so because of pressure from others.
Miss Redfearne: I can think of someone in my class who would be hesitant over
things he would play with, just because he doesn’t like playing football. He equates
it with being quite violent and he prefers playing quieter games, and he might,
perhaps want to go with the doll or something.
Mrs Harvey: And there are going to be those children as well who perhaps don’t
want to choose something for fear of being//
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Miss Redfearne: There is. Yes//
Mrs Harvey: You’re talking about it in general. But there are some children who
might not voice their opinion for fear of being//
Miss Peake: Because, as a boy, if you wanted to put the doll in both [categories
of suitable for a boy and a girl], but you knew//
Mrs Harvey: You daren’t.
Here the teachers recognised the power of the heterosexual matrix. Boys who see
football as ‘violent’, who would rather play ‘quieter games’ or who might consider
dolls toys that both boys and girls might enjoy risk undermining their
(heterosexual) masculine status. Those who dare to engage in border ‘crossing’
(Thorne 1993: 121) face the threat of being abused as female, homosexual, Other
(Martino 2000; Renold 2001; Skelton 2001). Thus, the options for boys (and for
girls) are limited and the boundaries between boys and girls are reinforced.
However, not all children accept dominant forms of masculinity and femininity with
ease. Reflecting socially dominant, monoglossic accounts of the bodily alignment
of male / masculine and female / feminine, one of the nursery teachers discussed
the behaviour of one child and classroom practice (Butler 1988, 1990; Connell
1995; Francis 2010). Such is the power of this binary agenda that teachers and
teaching assistants in the nursery persisted in organising children according to a
discursively constructed definition of male and female which relies on the body as
a signifier, despite their observation that this was potentially problematic.
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Mrs Harvey: And we’ve got a little boy in the nursery at the minute, and he is a
boy but he doesn’t actually want to be a little boy. He’s questioning whether he’s
a little boy or not.
Miss Redfearne: Really. Gosh!
Mrs Harvey: And we’ll say things like, “Girls line up.” We do a lot of things like
that in nursery. And he will. We can see him thinking.
Significantly, none of the other participants challenged this teacher on the
nursery’s organisational approach and its possible impact on the children in their
charge – encompassing all the children, not just this individual – nor did any
participant reflect on their own practice in this regard. Indeed, this kind of
behaviour on the part of staff (teachers, teaching assistants, dinner supervisors,
administrators) was prevalent across the school.
At BCP, as in many other schools, I daily observed children being asked to line up
according to whether they were a boy or a girl, or to sit alternately as a punishment
or way of managing behaviour (Best 1983; National Union of Teachers (NUT)
2013; Paechter 2006a). Boys were asked to transport equipment around the
school because they were stronger than girls or were expected to be “manly” when
another child upset them. Girls, on the other hand, were expected to be “ladylike”
and asked to complete “domestic” tasks like clearing up after an art lesson. On
one occasion, I even viewed a teaching assistant instructing children to line up
first if they were ‘sugar and spice’ (girls), to be followed by ‘slugs and snails’ (boys).
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Schools have repeatedly been viewed as a site of heterosexual hegemony where
discursive processes act to reinforce and regenerate dominant forms of sexual
and gender identities (Arnot 2002; Connell 1995; Epstein and Johnson 1998;
Haywood and Mac an Ghaill 2001; Kehily 1995; Renold 2005). Moves toward a
more data driven education system in which men occupy prestigious and powerful
positions within schools, including BCP, support this process. Additionally, the
curriculum, pedagogy, and everyday interaction between pupils and teachers
work to maintain the status quo in terms of gender and adult-children power
relations (Kehily 1995).
4.7 ‘It’s so gay’: promoting diversity and tackling homophobia
In all three groups, conversations around the need to teach children about different
types of families led onto the topic of discrimination and homophobia. Teachers
acknowledged that a curriculum that ‘systematically teaches pupils about all
aspects of difference and diversity’ is desirable, even if some parents choose to
exercise their right to withdraw children from these lessons (Ofsted 2013: 8).
Miss Macintyre: Because I personally think, as we’ve had with racism, it was so
common and the only way we’ve overcome that is by tackling it and I think the
same could be said for the misconceptions around sex and relationships. The only
way you’re ever going to know is to provide children with that knowledge.
Mr Drake: I mean there are laws, obviously, in this country to protect against
racism, against hate crimes, whatever you want to, however you wish to describe.
And I think with tolerance, yes you should teach along those lines and if there are
people who object to that, for whatever reason, then I don’t think it should affect
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us and sway our direction, because I think we are duty bound, honour bound to
be educators and to follow the values of the law. I mean the law is there to protect
people and it’s there for a reason. We could be seen to be promoting intolerance
by not promoting tolerance; we need to be careful. An opt-out makes sense
because it allows people to, who want to opt-out. And therefore, whatever, people
can make their mind up about that. But from our point of view as teachers we are
sticking to a fair, equal, diverse curriculum.
Miss Macintyre: There can be religious issues around it, around certain aspects,
which would mean that that sort of thing would not be acceptable to be discussed.
I don’t think that that would mean the other children in class shouldn’t have that
part of their education, if their parents are happy with them having it.
Mr Drake: And once again, a diverse range of religious points of view, whether
within churches, temples, whatever. One of the finer lines is tolerance within
religion, whether there are --- for whatever religious reasons. They should be given
the option to opt out because that is their political views. But it shouldn’t dictate
how a school operates.
While not challenging parents’ rights to withdraw their children from SRE lessons,
teachers were aware of the influence of the world outside of the classroom and
that they might well be running counter to the values expressed at home.
Mrs Blake: I think you’d have to be prepared for some parents wanting to withdraw
their children because there’s a lot of strong feeling, isn’t there? And I am totally
for children being taught about all the various relationships. And if you don’t give
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them an option there will be complaints. I just know from listening to them, there
are some terrible, hard prejudice, aren’t there?
Mrs Moore: And as those children go further up the school those prejudices rub
off on the children. Whereas, when they’re younger ---.
Mrs Blake: They don’t even know what they’re talking about, do they? They ape
their parents.
Mrs Moore: As teachers, we should be teaching about acceptance, or in the worst
case tolerance, because their family prejudices are against what you consider
normal. At least we’re doing something, and it’s for the child to make up their mind.
You can’t really do much more than that.
Once again, teachers saw themselves as agents for social change and pondered
the potential impact of their teaching on young minds, particularly to combat
problems like homophobic bullying: ‘I wonder if they learnt about same-sex
relationships when they were younger then they wouldn’t use the term gay?’ (Miss
Peake). They also focused on broader concerns than the content of a defined
curriculum, recognising that discrete teaching of a curriculum promoting tolerance
and valuing diversity would need to be underpinned by a daily assault on the
manifestations of homophobia generated at home and in the playground. In this,
some were more vociferous than others, comparing an assault on homophobia to
previous moves to tackle racism (which they seemed to view largely as a battle
fought and won, at least within the school’s context). However, when teachers
reflected on their lived experiences of responding to homophobic name-calling,
which most had witnessed, it was clear that there was no coherent, consistent
approach applied to pupils engaged in these kinds of behaviours. Incidents of
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homophobic name-calling were not routinely recorded at BCP and teachers, in
practice, were often unsure of how to proceed. While aware of the need to counter
homophobic abuse, no matter the actual sexuality of the victim, these teachers
found it difficult to negotiate a way to do so effectively.
These kinds of inadequacies replicate those identified by Ofsted (2012) and
Stonewall (Guasp 2014; Bradlow et al 2017). In its No Place for Bullying report,
Ofsted (2012) summarises the results of its survey of 37 primary schools, where
it found that staff in at least 25 of these said they heard the term ‘gay’ used in a
‘derogatory way’ in a ‘typical week’ (Ofsted 2012: 25). Both Ofsted and Stonewall
observed that teachers’ response to inappropriate language was not consistent
and that ‘[m]any staff in both the primary and the secondary schools commented
that pupils did not always know what the term ‘gay’ meant’, or that it had become,
in the minds of pupils, divorced from its relationship to sexuality. Statements made
by teachers in this regard led Ofsted inspectors to conclude that there was ‘an
acceptance’ of the use of the term to mean ‘rubbish’ or ‘bad’ (Ofted 2012: 27).
The consequences of this were outlined in Stonewall’s Teachers’ Report (Guasp
2014). It found that teachers did not always tackle homophobic language, either
‘because they believe that the pupils did not understand the meaning of their
remarks (42 percent) or because they did not believe pupils were being
homophobic (32 percent)’ (Guasp, 2014: 6).
When talking about incidents of homophobia, as elsewhere, boys were usually
identified as the perpetrators and, more frequently than girls, the victims (Hastie
2013; Kehily 2002; Halstead and Waite 2001). This echoed the findings of studies
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in both primary and secondary schools where behaviours ranging from verbal
abuse to physical violence have been employed as a means of policing gender
and sexuality (Chambers van Loon and Tincknell 2004; Connolly 1998; Renold
2005; Skelton 2001). These teachers recounted a variety of approaches to counter
the abuse, but often did so with a lack of confidence that their tactics were either
appropriate or achieving the desired effect.
Miss Redfearne: Someone said they were a lesbian, and I just said that wasn’t
an appropriate word to be using. In fact, it was this year: “So-and-so called me a
lesbian.”
Mrs Brown: I tell them to go and get a dictionary.
Miss Redfearne: I said, “Do you know what that word means?” “No.”
Mrs Brown: I tell them to get a dictionary.
Miss Redfearne: Well, in Year 3 I didn’t really think that was appropriate. Maybe
I should of, I don’t know.
Mrs Brown: In Year 6 I get the dictionary out and we look it up: “Have we used
that in the correct way? No. So think about the way you use it.”
Miss Redfearne: I just said it wasn’t a word they should be using, and it was said
again.
Mrs Brown: I don’t think they’re using to be//
Miss Thomson: It’s like: “That’s just sad.”
TW: But then what do you feel about the connection between the words ‘sad’ and
the word ‘gay’ if that’s the case?
Miss Thomson: I don’t think they’re making a connection, are they?
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******
Mrs Old: My issue is children calling each other ‘gay’. Including Bobby: and my
son is a child who’s had it completely normalized.
Miss Kennedy: In Year 3, that’s a regular//
Mrs Garrow: They don’t – it’s just a word. It’s not got any particular meaning.
Mr Marshall: In fact they’ve taken it over – the word – and probably it’s no longer
an abusive word in the way we look at it.
These approaches and attitudes mean that LGBT+ pupils are failed in schools on
a regular basis, with potentially harmful outcomes. For example, Stonewall
reported that LGBT students between the ages of 11 and 18 admit ‘skipping
classes’, self-harming and attempting suicide as a result of homophobic, biphobic
and transphobic bullying (Bradwell et al 2017: 7). However, sexuality and
homophobic abuse do not necessarily go hand-in-hand, nor, as Mrs Old reported,
is it even necessary to break heterosexual gender codes.
Mrs Old: It’s hard. I mean, Bobby called someone a “lesbian” the other day.
Miss Kennedy: Does he know what it means?
Mrs Old: He knows about --- he knows that a man can love and man and a
woman can love a woman, because I’ve had that discussion like Robert [Marshall]
has. And he probably knows the word gay to be two men together. But I’ve no idea
where he’s got the word lesbian from. However, you know, but again, I probably
did the wrong thing. I chastised him for it. And, you know, you don’t call people
names. So I did completely the wrong thing.
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Bobby had been attacking a girl called Polly, a clever, pretty, sporty girl, who was
rejecting his advances as a potential boyfriend. The impact of calling her a lesbian
paid a double dividend for Bobby: he was able to reaffirm his position as the
dominant boy in his circle of friends while questioning Polly’s legitimacy as a girl.
By implication, the only reason she would not accept Bobby’s proposal to ‘go out’
with him could be that she was not interested in boys (a lesbian), not that she had
no interest in Bobby as a potential boyfriend. By questioning her heterosexuality
Bobby firmly located Polly as Other, thereby obliterating her as a potential
girlfriend for his peers, despite his earlier assessment of Polly as an “object of
desire” and retaining his position of power.
In some instances, teachers diverted children from their conversations rather than
dealing with the problem head-on, and recognised the failings of how they had
previously dealt with situations:
Miss Kennedy: When it’s happening in my classroom, I’ve said, “The discussion
you’re having at this point is inappropriate at this point”; in class time. So that didn’t
show them it was necessarily the word they used, but they were having this
conversation when they should have been working. Which deflected a little bit. But
that’s hard isn’t it – to get it right?
These attitudes and the failure to act negate the impact on the victim of the abuse
and act to reproduce the heterosexist nature of the primary school. As Warwick et
al (2004: 22) point out in their report on homophobia and sexual orientation in
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schools: ‘A homophobic incident is any incident perceived to be homophobic by
the victim or another person’ and it is clear that the use of this type of language
does have a particular impact on children with same-sex parents. According to
Stonewall, these children found homophobic remarks ‘upsetting and made them
think there was something wrong with their family’ (Guasp 2014: 7). As with other
forms of bullying, homophobia can have a detrimental impact on children’s mental
and physical wellbeing, in addition to levels of academic attainment. These
findings resonate with the responses of teachers at BCP to the use of terms like
gay and lesbian as forms of abuse. Furthermore, this represents a failure to
address the power relationships that are institutionally and socially sustained and
the role pupil actions have in perpetuating these (Preston 2016).
Ofsted’s (2013) report went on to identify good practice in dealing with this type of
bullying both in schools and the wider community, highlighting those schools
taking a well-considered and proactive approach to the problem that led to a
significant reduction in these kinds of incidents. Despite the good intentions of staff
at BCP, they demonstrated confusion and an inability to take a consistent,
confident approach to homophobia and to trouble actively heterosexist practices
within the school. This, alongside an administrative approach that saw
homophobic incidents go unrecorded, meant that using gay and lesbian as terms
of abuse within the school remained effectively unchallenged.
4.8 Professional considerations of gender and maturity
Rather than the need to protect children’s innocence, differences in children’s
levels of maturity were posed as a problem for teachers trying to formulate a
curriculum for all.
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Miss Macintyre: Because, I know in the past I had a little boy I taught. He went
to a gay wedding and they got married, and they were having a baby. And it was
obviously a surrogate mother, and he was asking a lot of questions with a group
that I didn’t think were mature enough. So I, rather than discuss it with all of them,
I just spoke to his mum afterwards, and said what he’d been asking about: “It’s
entirely up to you: if you want to talk to him, if you want me to talk to him.” And we
did it that way. But with that particular cohort, and it was Year 1, and I just didn’t
feel it was appropriate for them. Because not all of them understood.
Mrs Blake: No. That’s a problem really. It’s that, you know, the difference in
maturity, I mean, you know in an ideal world as they ask questions you respond
to the questions. But, of course, if you’re not teaching a class and you’re producing
a scheme of work, you’re going to have some very immature, you know, of them
in there, aren’t you? It’s difficult.
Concerns of maturity and gender were linked. Mrs Blake thought it was better to
teach the boys and girls separately because she felt this represented a better
environment for girls to explore sensitive issues.
Mrs Blake: They’re not too worried about looking silly, or saying something silly
when it’s just girls together. Or intimate. I think it’s better separately.
TW: Is that because//
Mrs Moore: They discuss a lot about puberty, don’t they. And er ---//
Mrs Blake: Yeah.
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Mrs Moore:
--- changes in their bodies. And I do think the girls are more
comfortable that with the boys in there as well.
Mrs Blake: No. And I think the boys will be silly as well.
The Year 5 teachers had considered teaching boys and girls together but were
discouraged by their perceived relative maturity levels and the possibility of boys
exhibiting low level disruptive behaviour.
Mrs Blake: I know that, you know, the girls tend to be more mature, don’t they?
You know. But we had thought about that [mixed classes].
Mr Drake: But time. The boys have a session with me. It’s early in Year 6 when
the boys are getting used to their development that – which I think for the boys
seems to work. For Year 6 boys, as opposed to Year 5 boys. I mean, the variety
of maturity they have.
Mrs Moore: You mean the girls are more mature anyway; there have been year
groups when the boys have been asking inappropriate, well, not inappropriate
questions. Just trying to push the boundaries a bit as to what they can ask with
the nurse, and I know Robert [Marshall] had to step in. It wasn’t last year, it was
the year before, with some of the questions that were being asked by some of the
boys. Whereas, the girls seem to, they’re obviously a little bit more mature.
This perspective, restated elsewhere, potentially leads teachers into dangerous
territory in terms of their role as educators (Milton 2001; Halstead and Waite 2001;
Walker and Milton 2006). In no other subject would this group of teachers decide
to teach or to not teach a child something on the basis of their level of maturity.
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They would consider their prior knowledge and understanding, which in this case
might be sorely lacking due to a failure to teach SRE until Years 5 and 6 and would
use a differentiated approach to ensure that children had the opportunity to
progress. Furthermore, while the teachers clearly do cling to some stereotypical
portrayals of boys’ and girls’ traits, it is difficult to conceive of another situation
where they would treat all the girls and all the boys in such a uniform manner: as
if all girls are “mature” and all boys are “silly” and likely to exhibit challenging
behaviour. Yet at the same time teachers do acknowledge that these stereotypes
would not apply to all girls or all boys.
In the example above, the fact that Mr Marshall felt the need to intervene on behalf
of the school nurse raises some issues. First, this potentially undermines the
authority of the female nurse, ensuring power rests with the male teacher (as her
protector) and male pupils, who have the upper hand in that they are setting the
agenda, albeit for a short space of time due to Mr Marshall’s intervention. Thereby,
gender power relations are reinforced. Secondly, it negates the possibility that
these boys are asking questions that teachers consider to be “pushing the
boundaries” because they have a genuine desire to learn.
Boys have repeatedly been regarded as a problem in sex education in a manner
that to some degree mirrors that focused on boys’ underachievement more
broadly (Davidson 1996; Haste 2013; Hilton 2001, 2003). In boys’ defence, Haste,
in her study of an all-boys secondary school, notes that:
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. . . boys’ contributions to sex education lessons can be graphic,
explicit and sexist and may refer to sexual practices that are socially
taboo and considered offensive. They also illustrate that not all
questions containing sexually explicit language or that refer to
pornography are impertinent or intended to shock or offend. (Haste
2013: 523)
None of the teachers here suggested that at KS1 girls and boys should be taught
separately. There was minimal concern that children’s innocence might be
compromised. There was also scant discussion of sexualisation or of the
commercialisation of children’s sexuality; rather, there was a quiet awareness that
children would see and hear things that they might not understand and that it was
the job of educators to ensure that they had the information they would need to
function and feel valued in the world beyond the school gates. These teachers
could see beyond the themes that appear so frequently in political
pronouncements and media hyperbole. They were, however, concerned that
some children would not be “ready” for some aspects of the SRE curriculum and
found it difficult to negotiate a way to address this problem that ensured all pupils
received an equal entitlement to this type of education.
4.9 Conclusion
Throughout these interviews, teachers repeatedly drew upon their personal and
professional experiences to support their thinking on SRE. The views of teachers
in this study were not uniformly held, but they did manage to achieve some broad
consensus regarding the aims and content of sex education for young children.
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All of the staff considered it their role to educate children to understand the world
they inhabit, to build upon and explore children’s lived experiences and to ensure
that they felt valued as members of the school community. Further, they believed
it was their duty to take a long view. They recognised that what children learn in
the early stages of their schooling will form the basis for their future education and
their lives beyond. They hoped to lay the foundations for children to become
productive, successful members of society who could live with whatever gender
identity they choose without fear of retribution. In this they recognised they might
be challenging the views of parents and the broader community, which they
regarded with a degree of trepidation, but saw their role as agents for positive
social change.
The details of what should be taught were more challenging and there was some
divergence of opinion. Some teachers found it difficult to reach a definitive
decision about what they would consider appropriate, sometimes vacillating
between viewpoints. Most were happy to teach children the names of genitalia,
although there was some indecision about exactly which of these would be
appropriate, in part due to the challenging nature of some of the science. Many of
the teachers could see the merit of introducing children to pleasurable aspects of
sex but lacked confidence in the best way to address this with young children. All
were keen to teach children to accept, if not necessarily value, diversity. Gender
stereotypes were thought to be a suitable and valuable topic at KS1, but here
teachers’ own adherence to ingrained stereotypes represented something of a
barrier.
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On the subject of families, teachers were quick to acknowledge that the children
at BCP came from a vast range of family types and were keen that they should
feel comfortable with this. This meant that same-sex relationships were moved
onto the agenda for teaching at KS1, with only one teacher having a significant
problem with this in principle.
A recurring theme within the conversations was one of pedagogy. Teachers
identified different approaches to delivering the SRE curriculum and were clearly
focused on the need for clear progression in learning across year groups and key
stages. They were concerned that learning should take place in a variety of ways,
both implicit and explicit. In addition to discrete SRE lessons that might feature
circle time and stories, they outlined the need for an embedded approach to
teaching, cross-curricular lessons and the benefits of peer support. Their desire
to teach children in a way that matched their maturity levels was not, on the whole,
about protecting children’s innocence, but concerned with giving children
information at a time when they are able to understand it and when it is relevant.
The main stumbling blocks to the successful delivery of the teachers’ preferred
SRE curriculum were fears of parental responses and their own lack of
confidence. For these reasons, they were eager to have a set, clear curriculum
established and to learn from “experts”. They were also relatively at ease with the
ability of parents to withdraw their children from SRE lessons, despite the
possibility that this might have a detrimental effect in meeting the needs of the
children.
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Chapter 5: Parents’ views about sex
and relationships education for
young children
Homophobic bullying most obviously took place on the playground but did
sometimes occur in corridors or classrooms. The boys, in particular, knew the
power of calling into question the sexuality of peers when engaged in an
argument:
Alan sat next to Jake in the Year 2 classroom. Alan was irritating
Jake by prodding him in the side. Jake’s response was to shout
at Alan that he was a ‘faggot’ and that he was going to ‘rape’
him.
5.1 Introduction
Talking to parents who volunteered to take part in this study revealed the
importance they placed on ensuring their children were prepared for and protected
from the world around them. Parents’ enthusiasm for KS1 SRE was tempered by
their desire that their children should remain innocent. They often wanted to take
the role of educator, but were often held back by lack of knowledge, confidence
and experience, and were generally content with the idea that teachers would
have the necessary training and be well-placed to provide some of the education
they felt their children needed. What this education should comprise was less
clear cut in the minds of parents, who frequently acknowledged their own
uncertainty and contradictory opinions.
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In this chapter, I begin with a brief examination of parent participants’ views on
whether or not children in KS1 should receive SRE in schools. I locate this
discussion within a broader context of surveys seeking to illuminate parents’ views
on this subject. I then move on to examine the impact of the hegemonic childhood
discourse of innocence on these parents’ ideas about what children need in terms
of SRE. I also highlight the link between gender and innocence, with a particular
focus on the position of girls within this discourse.
In section 5.4, the parents’ values and diverse experiences of family life are
explored. When examining the question of the family, the issue of same-sex
relationships arose and was the focus of much debate, which is reflected in this
section of the chapter. During these discussions some core values emerged in
regard to relationships. It was also evident that parents’ experiences within their
own families and friendship groups influenced their thinking around curriculum
content.
In addition to the theme of childhood innocence, what came through clearly in
focus group discussions was the strength of heteronormative assumptions that
drove much of parents’ thinking. This section also demonstrates that compulsory
heterosexuality underpinned parents’ notions of gender identity.
The question of biology was addressed in the focus groups. Mothers’ and fathers’
sometimes conflicting perspectives are discussed in section 5.6, as are the ways
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that participants’ thinking developed through taking part in focus group
discussions.
In the final two sections, parents’ experiences of SRE and their confidence in
delivering it to their own children are explored. This leads into a discussion of
parents’ attitudes to school-based SRE and the concept of school-parent
partnerships.
5.2 Do parents want school-based SRE for their children?
A number of organisations have surveyed parental participation in and
perspectives on children’s SRE and have used their findings to lobby Parliament
to make SRE compulsory in schools (BBC News Online 2011a; Durex et al 2010;
Mumsnet 2011; NAHT 2013; SEF 2014). However, looking deeper into the
surveys, it is apparent that many parents have reservations about what and when
this should be taught.
The National Association of Head Teachers’ (NAHT) (2013: n.p) survey of
parental attitudes to SRE is frequently cited by those who wish to promote
compulsory teaching of the subject, as its results showed that 88% of parents
were in favour of mandatory 'sex education and lessons on adult and peer
relationships’ (ATL 2014; Brook et al 2014; Relate 2014; SEF 2013). However,
with its central focus on the dangers of pornography, the survey did little to elicit
parents’ views about what ‘mandatory SRE’ would mean in practice and did not
ask when it should begin (NAHT 2013: n.p.). Likewise, Mumsnet’s (2011: n.p.)
sex education survey is often cited for its 92% headline figure of parents being in
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favour of compulsory sex education in schools (ATL 2014; Relate 2014; SEF
2013). However, read more thoroughly, the same survey reveals that a mere 28%
of respondents believed this should occur when children fall into the four- to sixyears old bracket and only 39% when children are aged seven to nine (Mumsnet
2011, n.p.).
Some surveys do provide additional information regarding subject content, but
even in these instances there exists a good deal of ambiguity. In 2014, the SEF,
in conjunction with the National Children’s Bureau (NCB), published survey results
from a poll of 1,000 parents of children between four and sixteen years (SEF
2014). The survey echoed the findings of Mumsnet (2011) and the NAHT (2013)
as it showed ‘the majority [of parents] want schools to teach a broad and balanced
curriculum that helps primary pupils understand their bodies, appropriate
behaviour and online safety’ (SEF 2014: n.p.). Among the topics that parents
hoped children would learn about were ‘the difference between safe and
unwanted touching’ (78%); ‘what to do if they find online pictures showing private
body parts or are asked to send them’ (72%); and ‘the medically correct terms for
sexual organs such as vagina and penis’ (64.5%) (SEF 2014: n.p). What was
lacking was the age at which parents wanted these topics to be addressed. After
all, primary school covers an age range from four to eleven years. Thus, despite
an apparent desire for primary schools to take up these issues in the classroom,
there still exists a high degree of uncertainty about what parents really want for
their children at any given age.
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At the beginning of these focus group interviews, parents were asked a very open
question about how they felt about the principle of providing SRE for KS1 children.
Rather than debating whether or not there was a need for SRE, most parents
immediately began to speculate about what this would mean in practice. At first,
some parents erroneously thought that I would be able to tell them what to expect.
Mrs Winston: I’m quite happy for you to teach it, but I don’t know how in depth
you are wanting to go. So I’m open to listening to what you say first, before making
an opinion.
Over the course of six focus group interviews, there emerged a broad range of
sometimes conflicting views about curriculum content. From the outset, different
perspectives began to emerge; some of this disagreement and uncertainty was
overcome through discussion. Even at this early stage in the process parents were
beginning to raise the issue of pleasure and shying away from this in favour of a
scientific approach combined with an emphasis on positive relationships.
Mrs Gage: How we feel – because we don’t know what you’re talking about yet.
TW: In principle do you think they should be taught something?
Mrs Gage: Yes.
Mrs Waites: I’d agree with that.
TW: And beyond that, what kind of shape and extent that you should go to?
Mrs Gage: I personally think at a young age it should be more of, I don’t know,
because it should come into personal hygiene. Revolving around that, rather than
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relationships so much. Obviously, differences between male and female, maybe.
But anything beyond that I think they’re way too young.
Mr Egan: I disagree with that, really. I think there’s a scientific approach to it,
because of the birds, bees and --- why do people have sex. Why is sex around
from an animal point of view, and the relationship bit, from my point of view comes
differently. It’s like, human beings are different from that element. So there’s an
element of care and consideration that needs to be put forward in the basis of this.
There’s sex for regeneration and there’s sex for other elements. From a human
being side of it we’ve got to get away from, in my point of view, the brutal way sex
is treated in current society. In that it’s there for fun and pleasure, and the
relationship side of it is just not talked about at all.
Mr Ling: I think in relation to, I mean there are two sides to this coin. You’re
talking about sex, what does a five, six, seven year old think? What are they aware
of? From my point of view, I don’t want to go into the mechanics of the thing,
because they aren’t aware of it at that age. But the relationships side, I think they
are aware. They’re forming relationships themselves anyway; ours is always
running around: “Yes, I’ve got a girlfriend.” So, they are aware of that side, and I
think that should be the emphasis, from my point of view.
Surveys also demonstrate the existence of a significant minority of parents who
are very much against their children receiving SRE in primary school. In 2011,
BabyChild, a commercial website established to help parents to source baby
products, conducted a survey of 1,732 UK parents of children between the ages
of seven and eleven years. They found that 59% responded negatively to the
question: ‘Do you agree with the fact that sex education is often taught to children
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in schools, even from a young age?’, and 48% felt that sex education should not
begin until children are 13. This, despite the fact that 47% of those surveyed stated
that their children had asked them about sex when they were four or five, and over
a third were embarrassed by being asked about sex by their child (Teaching Times
N.D.: n.p.).
Although not all parental objections to SRE are faith-based, many who have
strong reservations about school-based SRE do express their views through
organisations with links to religious groups (Christian Concern 2018; Christian
Institute 2016; Paton 2015; SPUC 2015). For example, the Society for the
Protection of Unborn Children (SPUC), an evangelical Christian charity, runs a
‘Safe at School’ service that ‘provides advice and support to parents who face
unacceptable SRE in their children’s schools’ (SPUC 2015: n.p.). Picking out the
Christopher Winter Project’s (2009) scheme of work and Channel 4’s All About Us
DVD (Channel 4 2006) for particular criticism, SPUC’s campaign director, Antonia
Tully, claimed that:
This resource distresses parents because, among other reasons,
it presents sexual intercourse as a fun activity which makes you
happy. There is surely a concern that telling children sex is
pleasurable might be making a child more susceptible to sexual
predators. (SPUC 2017, n.p.)
The organisation takes the line that parents are primarily responsible for their
children’s sexual education, leading Tully to attack the prospect of new legislation
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to make SRE compulsory as ‘an Orwellian “Big Brother'” nightmare writ large’
(SPUC 2017: n.p). Again, we see a concern that children might be taught about
pleasure, this time rhetorically associated with child protection issues. Indeed, in
the case of SPUC, the implicit exclusion of LGBT+ children and young people
from sex education through this pleasure vacuum becomes explicit in the
organisation’s call for parents to respond to the government’s RSE consultations.
Here they refer to the expectation that RSE should be ‘LGBT inclusive’ as one of
the ‘concerning aspects of the New Draft regulations and Guidance’ (SPUC 2018,
n.p.).
Both Mr Heymann and Mrs Paxton held firm religious beliefs that informed their
thinking on SRE in schools. For Mr Heymann this meant that ‘responsibility falls
mainly to the parents’, but that it would be good for schools and parents to be
‘unified’ in this. Mrs Paxton, however, stood apart from other parents both in terms
of what she felt the school’s role was in regard to SRE and what she was happy
to share with her children. She was worried that her children thought that
‘everything the teacher tells them is right. So, everything that Miss has told them
is right, no matter what my opinion is on stuff.’ She was clear that ‘people do
things, have different views from me, but I wouldn’t want that putting onto my
young children, because I would want to teach them how I felt about it first.’
Among the parent participants, it was quickly established that all but Mrs Paxton
broadly agreed with the provision of SRE for KS1 children. The real matters for
debate were what should be included and in which year group.
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5.3 Too much too young?: Parents’ attachment to the discourse of
childhood innocence
The discourse of childhood innocence has long dominated media and political
rhetoric regarding childhood sexualisation and attempts to provide children with
SRE (Bailey 2011; BBC 2010; Bragg et al 2011; Ross 2010; Tait 2015; The
Guardian 2011). For example, in Sheffield one parent’s response to Grenoside
Primary School’s efforts to consult parents about the form its SRE programme
should take was to protest that, ‘children should be allowed to be children – we
do not want them growing up too quickly’ (Bowater 2011: n.p.). Similarly, a parent
respondent to the Bailey Review’s (2011) investigation expressed concern about
children ‘knowing too much at their age. You want to protect their innocence’
(Bailey 2011: 46). Furthermore, in April 2011 during Prime Minister’s Question
Time, queries regarding the sexualisation and commercialisation of childhood led
David Cameron to respond: ‘As a parent of three little ones, I know that it is
incredibly worrying to see what is becoming available in some shops and other
places. We are effectively asking our children to grow up too early’ (Crewe and
Nantwich Guardian 2011: 5).
Despite the worries expressed from a range of quarters, a survey carried out on
behalf of the National Association of Head Teachers in 2014 showed that while
‘the vast majority of parents (83 per cent) feel that childhood is under threat in the
twenty-first century largely due to children’s early exposure to adult themes [in the
media]’, only ‘34 per cent of parents have installed parental controls on devices
that can access television programmes or stream material from the internet’
(NAHT 2014: n.p.). What we see here, is parents expressing fear for their children
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but not feeling the need to take control over their access to media and internet
content, a pattern that was reflected among the parents who took part in this study.
Throughout this debate ‘childhood innocence’, just like ‘sexualisation’ remains illdefined. Studies undertaken in the UK, based upon data gathered from focus
groups with parents of young children, revealed that parents censor the
information shared with their children due to concerns about loss of childhood
innocence, particularly where girls were concerned (McGinn et al 2016; Stone,
Ingham and Gibbins 2013). The majority of parents who took part in these
research projects claimed they ‘desired an open relationship whereby their child
could approach them for information’ (McGinn at al 2016: 1). However, they used
a variety of tactics to evade this, including limiting discussion to a very narrow
view of biology and reproduction and waiting until children asked questions, to
which they often responded with delaying tactics. In these studies, the
preservation of innocence (communicated in a variety of ways) was frequently
cited by parents as a reason for restricting the information they gave to their
children. For some parents, the term meant a state of ignorance; some focused
on their children’s behaviour and others found articulating what they meant by
innocence and, even more so, non-innocence challenging. All regarded childhood
innocence in a positive light and sought to protect this by rationing their children’s
access to information. Even so, they were unclear where the boundary sits
between a child retaining and losing innocence.
Parents in the BCP focus groups, like those who have participated in other
studies, expressed a desire for their children to be equipped with an ‘appropriate’
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understanding of the world in which they live (Berne et al 2000; Davies and
Robinson 2010; McGinn et al 2016; Milton, 2002; Stone, Ingham and Gibbins
2013). However, they simultaneously expressed concerns related to the fear of a
loss of childhood innocence, or of childhood itself (so closely are the two concepts
intertwined), at times identifying a tension here or acknowledging a lack of
certainty about the best way forward.
As discussions opened, some parents initially focused on their worries about
formal SRE and where this might lead.
Mr Heymann: I’d like to think, at the moment. I mean Billy, he’s just turned six; I’d
like to think he doesn’t even know what sex is. I mean, I might be completely
wrong//
Miss Gage: I mean they’re children. That’s --- they grow up too quick.
******
Mrs Paxton: . . . so it does concern me a little bit because, you know, they talk
about Key Stage 1 now, because I think they’re still very young children. Probably
most of them, you know, yes they have got older siblings and so they will hear,
the ones with older siblings or older friends will hear some things. Some little
questions, like: “How was I born?” But sometimes l think we give them far too
much that they don’t need to know. It stops them being young and enjoying
themselves as children.
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Other mothers explained the conflict they experienced when it came to this issue.
Mrs Winston: I mean, as far as I’m concerned, I’ve got a six-year old and I’ve got
one in Key Stage 2. I mean, there’s certain things that I don’t particularly want my
six-year old to know yet. I want him to be a child and be completely oblivious to
what’s going on. I mean, later on he’s going to find out, and myself or someone
like yourself is there to guide him along, but I don’t know how much I want him to
know yet --- I want to keep my child a child as long as possible. I don’t know. I’m
quite happy for them to learn things about sex, because I know they’re going to
talk about it as they get older, and I don’t want them to be so naïve when they get
older that it’s going to be a shock to them. I would like them to be broken in gently,
but I don’t want them to know all the gory details yet.
Other parents were alarmed by what they read or heard in the media about the
way SRE has reportedly been taught elsewhere and sought reassurance.
Mrs Fellowes: I think for myself, personally, one of the main things, my main
concern is, that I read in the paper about videos: quite explicit videos being used
for infants. And I just don’t think that’s appropriate yet. So, as long as they’re not
doing that in school, that would be okay.
From the outset, most parents agreed that some school-based SRE would be
beneficial for KS1 children, but they were troubled by what might be covered and
how it would be taught. They also sometimes expressed a degree of confusion or
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uncertainty about the desired extent and possible negative impact of their
children’s learning:
Mrs Thomas: . . . you want them to learn, and you want them to know correctly.
You don’t want them to be told that the stork brings a baby, etc., but I want to
mollycoddle them a bit. I don’t know if I want them to know exactly how it’s done.
I don’t know. I don’t know. Maybe I do want them to know, but it’s how it’s said
more than anything. I don’t know.
Reflecting the ‘cultural myth’ (Baldo et al 1993 quoted in Walker and Milton 2006:
422) that sex education promotes sexual activity, some parents expressed fears
that too much information would encourage sexual experimentation and
promiscuity. However, numerous studies demonstrate that this is far from the case
(Kirby, Laris and Rolleri 2007; Mueller, Gavin and Kulkarni 2008; World Health
Organisation 2010). Kirby, Laris and Rolleri’ (2007), for example, reviewed 83
academic studies seeking to evaluate the impact of sex education and HIV
education programmes on the sexual behaviour of under-25s. Drawing these
studies from across the world they concluded that there was ‘strong’ evidence that
these programmes did not ‘hasten the initiation of sex’ (Kirby, Laris and Rolleri
2007: 214). Furthermore, they claimed that two thirds of programmes led to
‘delayed or reduced sexual activity or increased condom or contraceptive use or
both’ among adolescents and young adults (Kirby, Laris and Rolleri 2007: 213).
Nonetheless, parents were concerned about what they saw as the potential
negative effects of SRE for young children.
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Miss Gage: I do agree that it does need teaching. Because my daughter actually
thinks that the word “sexy” and “sexual” is naughty words, and I don’t know where
that comes from because I’m not a prude in any way. I just think there needs to
be boundaries, as in I’m quite concerned what they will be taught at that age,
because there are so many teenage pregnancies. Now this could go one way or
the other, it could either encourage them, or not. And it depends on what is taught.
Parents also made the link between appearance, education and action. The ideas
that girls’ bodies betray their simultaneous threatening sexuality and fragile
innocence, and that sex education might serve to accelerate a perceived
sexualised aesthetic into sexual action are the subject of much discussion in a
number of quarters (e.g. Egan and Hawkes 2013; Papadopolous 2010; Rush and
La Nauze 2006; Walkerdine 1997; Walkerdine, Lucey and Melody 2001). It is little
wonder, then, that this should arise as a concern for parents.
Mrs Winston: But the worry is that kids think of trying it earlier because of things
that are --- you know. I’m not saying it would happen, but there’s always that
possibility. Because they do want, especially girls, want to be more grown-up,
don’t they? With the stilettoes and the lipstick and the nail varnish that I see in the
morning. What’s next? Are they going to be curious?
Here we see the repeated refrain that sexual knowledge is dangerous, especially
for little girls who enjoy dressing like a ‘grown-up’, perhaps, dressing like the sort
of woman whose sexuality is often seen to be evidenced by her appearance. As
on the playground, what a girl does is a lot less important than how she is
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positioned by others. Lees’ (1996: 1) assertion that ‘the policing of women through
sexual reputation starts in adolescence’ is actually evident in the lives of much
younger girls.
Conversely, some parents explained that their children lacked sufficient curiosity
to ask questions or that their children would avoid conversations about sex. They
assumed this showed their children were not “ready” for SRE. However, these
parents might not recognise their children’s desire to ask questions and to gain
reliable information from their parents (Walker 2001).
Mrs Paxton: I think sometimes we push learning onto them, when they don’t
need to know at that age. And I would say, if they didn’t ask the question then I
would say it’s not important at that age.
******
Mrs Fellowes: Yes, I suppose mine don’t actually ask a lot of questions. So,
unless I, sort of, I think unless they ask me I won’t bring it up quite yet. But I would
never be afraid to say. I wouldn’t say, “We’re not going to talk about that.” You
know.
While parents read the absence of questioning and reluctance to take part in
dialogue as a sign that children were either uninterested or not yet ready to
discuss and understand these issues, it may well be that they have already learnt
that sex is a ‘taboo’ subject and suppress their desire to seek information (Davies
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and Robinson 2010: 253; Frankham 2006; Milton 2003; Walker and Milton 2006).
What is more, as Davies and Robinson (2010: 249) point out, in their exploration
of the ‘risk and regulation associated with giving children accurate knowledge
about sexuality’, this is not an approach that is generally taken toward educating
children: we do not wait for a child to ask to be taught how to read, to subtract or
to have electricity explained to them. As noted above, the idea that children are
only ready to receive information when they specifically ask for it is clearly at odds
with the way they are generally taught, both at home and in school. This attitude
serves two purposes and produces a contradictory position: it reinforces the belief
that children are non-sexual or innocent beings and places the responsibility for
initiating discussions about sex firmly with the children. In this scenario,
knowledge is in the hands of parents who see themselves as justifiably limiting
the information they give to their children and avoiding giving full or direct
responses to queries until they decide that their children are ‘ready’ to receive the
information (Frankham 2006).
Fears of a loss of childhood innocence were tempered to some degree by an
acknowledgement of children’s curiosity and agency in their own education. Most
parents appeared untroubled by this, although some admitted a degree of
discomfort or embarrassment. While some children asked their parents direct
questions about the birth of babies, the differences between girls and boys and
relationships of all kinds, others had taken it upon themselves to investigate.
Ms Knight: Because I think at a very young age, I mean Tanya [age 5] now, she
gets a little bit shy about it. She’s got a cousin, and he’s a little boy, and if he’s
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getting changed she’ll always try and peek at his botts. She’ll laugh and giggle,
go all shy, and, “Ooh, I’ve seen your willy!” And --- so they do. And they’re always
trying to . . . You know what men are like, and Marcus always, “Ooh, get them [the
children] out.” And they’re always trying to have a look. So, they are inquisitive,
even when they’re at that age: in Reception.
Hugh and Stephanie Ling acknowledged their son Mick’s agency and potential
benefits of SRE when they recalled a recent incident:
Mrs Ling: We already caught Mick Googling girls’ bums, haven’t we?
Mr Ling: Because he said he wanted to know.
Mrs Ling: He was about to go to a swimming party, and he just wanted. We don’t
even know why he wanted//
Mr Ling: He said --- We said, “Why have you done this? You’re not in trouble,
but what made you think of looking at this?” And he said, “I just wasn’t sure why
girls are different to boys. I wanted to see something.” First, he started with naked
people, and it brought up some artistic black and white photos of someone from
behind, apparently. So, he said, “That was only a man.” He said, “And I’m a man,”
because that’s what he says. “But I don’t know why girls were different.” So, he
thought he’d look at bottoms.
Mrs Ling: But he sees it all the time because, obviously, he’s got a little sister and
they bath together. But he doesn’t understand.
Mrs Fellowes: Maybe that’s why he should have been taught.
Mrs Waites: It’s that natural inquisitiveness.
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Despite acknowledging their children’s interest and declaring their openness,
some parents recounted occasions when they employed a range of tactics to
avoid fully responding to their children’s questions. These strategies included
moving ‘on to another topic relatively quickly’ (Mrs Winston); deferring to the
knowledge of another parent: ‘I’ll talk to daddy and get back to them about it’ (Mrs
Thomas); and delaying until a later date.
Ms Knight: But I think nowadays, with the TV, I’ve found that a bit difficult. I mean
Jeremy Kyle. The other day, the kids were off, and I was just flicking and it said,
“I found secret condoms.” So, Charlotte says, “Mum, what are condoms?” (Gasps)
I thought, and she really caught me off guards. And I said, “They’re just something
you use when you’re older, and we’ll talk about that when you’re a little bit older.”
Research undertaken by Martin and Torres (2014) shows that, given the right
circumstances, parents will share sexual knowledge with their children. Parents
agreed to read a book to their children (aged between three and five) about ‘where
babies come from’ (Martin and Torres 2014: 177). During and following book
readings, children asked questions and sought clarification in an effort to elicit
information. Sometimes the children were quite persistent and parents often
shared more information than they had originally intended. What emerged was a
picture of parents and children working effectively together, with children taking
an active role in their own sexual education.
In this study, parents’ recounted conversations in which their children were active
in seeking answers to a whole range of questions about sex and relationships.
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While some questions elicited clear and frank responses, others were met with
evasion and delaying tactics. Sometimes this depended on the type of question
being asked, on other occasions it depended on the general attitude of the parent.
However, Mrs Thomas did admit that her tactics of foreclosure ultimately were
likely to be unsuccessful due to her sons’ persistence: ‘They expect some kind of
an answer and fobbing them off doesn’t work.’
It might well be the case that these parents saw themselves as good mothers or
good fathers because by withholding information they were protecting their
children’s innocence and, thereby, their childhoods. Indeed, Davies and Robinson
(2010: 255) report the case of a mother who spoke to them privately because she
feared being labelled a ‘bad mother’ if she admitted that she had shared ‘sexual
knowledge’ with her daughter that others might frown upon. It may, therefore, even
be the case that parents who took part in this study failed to disclose some of the
information they shared with their children having gauged the tenor of the
conversation within their focus groups.
Although they did not engage in an extensive discussion related to safeguarding,
one group of mothers felt that SRE might equip children to protect themselves by
giving them the ability to recognise abuse, and to give them the tools and
opportunity to report this should it occur. In this group of parents, it was not only
strangers that were regarded as a potential danger and they were clear that
children might need to be protected from members of their own families. They also
considered experiences within their own families and the impact of social media.
However, as with parents in Davies and Robinson’s (2010) study, they did
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distance themselves and their families from the possibility that their own children
might be abused within their own immediate family.
Ms Franklin: The other aspect, and I don’t know whether it’s for this forum or not,
but I’ll just briefly mention it, from a safeguarding perspective. Discussing things
like this at Year 2 level might actually bring things out that are not very nice. That
might raise awareness to that child. They might think, well, I’m not going to give
you any examples, but they might think, well that doesn’t happen to me, and this
has happened to me, and now they’re in a forum, because they’ve had a bit of
education about it, that they can put their hand up and say, “Actually, Miss.” There
might be a possibly that, actually, we can safeguard some children as well from
this. But just a little bit of education.
The parents moved between issues related to children’s safety, from considering
potential family connections to the dangers of the internet and what they might do
to protect their children. For some, experiences within their own extended families
led them to be particularly concerned.
Ms Knight: I think it’s important for children as well that maybe being taught in
school, they may be going through something at home where they think, “That
isn’t normal. What I’m being taught in school and what is happening here isn’t
right.” So, it isn’t, because every child’s different. And to think what they’re going
through --CG: And the other thing, to look at it in a really black, dark scenario is what if
they’re being abused?
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Ms Knight: Yes, that’s what I mean.
Mrs Fellowes: Say you’ve got an uncle. I’m just saying an uncle, but you know –
they need to know what’s right. What’s wrong.
Ms Knight: Yes, they do.
Mrs Fellowes: And that can happen from one, or as babies.
Ms Knight: Yes. And I’ve looked after children in care, and it could be that you
have child who’s been in care and they would know quite a lot. That if they have
been abused, and could potentially tell a child who knows nothing: “You do this,
this, this and this.” Because it’s completely normal to them. So, what they’re
learning from other children, be to your child would be//
Mrs Fellowes: Yes, and from the internet. I don’t really go on Facebook. But if
they started chatting, type of thing, then they pick up//
Ms Knight: But you don’t know//
Mrs Fellowes: And they pick up these//
Mrs Thomas: This internet stuff, it’s the chat stuff terrifies me.
Mrs Fellowes: And they’re making out they’re a friend, and they’re not//
It’s where you go with these things isn’t it?
TW: So do you think in that case that we should quite explicitly, openly, talk about
bad touching and good touching?
ALL: Yes. Definitely.
Mrs Thomas: Yes. I think they need to know that early on to prevent any kind of
abuse. Or if it is happening they’re able then to go to their teacher and say, “Well,
this happened. Is this not the good kind?”
Mrs Fellowes: That’s really important.
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Ms Knight: And nowadays, shocking as it is, and I wish my girls didn’t have to
be taught that. But nowadays I think they do. I think we’ve become a lot more
open minded I think, and//
Mrs Fellowes: I mean, I’m not saying, not all stepfathers are like that, but when
mum brings home a new boyfriend or whatever, I think --- It just is, like you say,
at an early age they’ve got to know about//
Ms Knight: Definitely.
Mrs Thomas: They’re not going to go and look at a sex register and go and find
out whether --- Then again, most parents don’t even look into that kind of thing.
Especially, I mean I would dread having a date right now. I’d be checking
everybody was safe to be around my kids.
Ms Knight: And obviously, there’s safety on line. As they get older. My niece,
she’s on Facebook. I mean she’s 15 now. When she was 11, 12, she went through
the scenario. Added somebody. Thought they were a friend. Umm, and he ended
up not a friend. He was a grown man. It’s still going through court at the moment
because he’d gone through all sorts. . . . Charlotte [daughter] now wants to be on
Moshy Monsters and they had friend on there. And I’m, like, “No.” Because people
can add you.
Parents started from a position where they acknowledged the potential benefits of
SRE, both at home and in school. They wanted children to be informed so that
they could understand the world around them and so that they would not need to
take it upon themselves to try to find answers to their questions. They could also
see the importance of SRE from a child protection point of view. However, their
desire to protect children’s innocence meant that they were unsure of the extent
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to which they wanted their children to be informed and they were even reluctant
to answer children’s questions, despite defining ‘readiness’ for sex education in
these very terms. In the case of girls, they also foresaw a danger of children being
encouraged to sexually experiment as a result of learning about sex and
relationships.
5.4 Relationships and Families: experiences and values
As Halstead and Reiss (2003) demonstrate, the very decision to teach SRE is
itself value-laden, even before we decide what and how to teach as part of the
curriculum. Parents in this study were explicit about their own values, those they
were happy to have communicated to their children and how they would deal with
alternative values to their own being taught. They also talked about the diversity
of their own families, and the array of relationships their children would encounter
in all manner of ways, and were keen for them to explore these, beginning with
friendship and family.
Mrs Waites: Taking it from the early days of friendships – you’ve got to work, it’s
give and take. You’ve got to be there for one another. You might have a fall out
one day, then you make friends. And all that give and take. And that follows
through for teaching more about relationships as well.
There also existed an understanding that children come from all different kinds of
homes, and that they would bring a range of their own values to lessons that would
likely be shared with the rest of the class if an open setting were provided. For the
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most part parents viewed this possibility positively, sometimes drawing
experiences with their own parents to explain why.
Mr Egan: And, also if you actually teach it talking about the views of the children,
you’ll get the values that they’re being taught by their parents as well, won’t you?
So you’ll get that sort of mix. So, I think the more open it is and the more free it is
--- but at the level of their age, it just allows them to discuss things and be open.
And then they’ll come back and discuss things with their parents hopefully,
because obviously there’s a mixed group of parents out there. The aim is to spin
the positive sides out to those children who might not get that //
Mrs Fellowes: I think that’s a real opportunity with this sort of education. Because
they’re all like a mixed bag out there, and there are lots of children who miss out
on this sort of//
Miss Gage: Yes. I didn’t have a clue. You know when I was younger.
Mrs Fellowes: I mean, just the values and things.
Miss Gage: And it was literally from friends and friends’ parents, from what they
taught them. Because my mum and dad were very --- about things like that.
Although on the other hand I think they had fantastic values, because I’ve never
been married because you know I believe in marriage for life. They’ve been
married for a long time. So, there’s good bits and bad bits of everything that will
show. It’ll all come through as well.
There was not total agreement on values, but parents did want their children to
understand that all types of relationships should be based on honesty, love and
respect. The principle that relationships come with consequences and
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responsibilities was a message that parents wanted instilled in their children. For
most of the parents, however, the legal status of a partnership and the gender of
the individuals in a relationship were far less important, and for some of no
significance. The general view was that all positive relationships should be
understood and accepted. Beyond this, most parents felt that if their personal
values were different or went beyond this then it was their role to educate their
children.
Mr Heymann: . . . if you do have separate religious beliefs, then it’s your
responsibility to teach your children. To raise them.
Mrs Fellows: In that set of values.
Mrs Waites: That’s it.
Mrs Fellowes: You [teachers] can make them aware of the scientific, that’s not
the right word, social aspect. Then you’re going back to, I’d like to teach my child
values. I’d like them to be aware of things, but an, almost, starting point. And for
us to say, “Yes, and that’s what we think about it.”
Mr Heymann went on to relate this discussion to his own religious beliefs:
Mr Heymann: We, as a religion, don’t believe in sex before marriage. I say we
don’t believe, we know it goes on. (Laughter.) But that would be up to me to, kind
of, instil that belief. And, obviously, they need to be aware that this isn’t for
everyone and we make that choice in a different way.
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Parents’ personal circumstances and the home lives of their children’s friends, as
well as a general awareness of the range of relationships their children were likely
to encounter, led the groups to reflect on the topic of divorce and the potential
benefits and pitfalls of addressing the subject.
Ms Franklin: Do you think, on divorce, playing devil’s advocate, by the fact of
discussing it with the children, if they are in a really happy home, it might make
them feel a bit vulnerable? So, I understand that when parents argue, or when
they do this, or when they do these behaviours, that can cause them to fall out of
love and become separated. They might worry about that a little bit.
Mrs Friend: They might do, because Alan worried about that. When Rihanna’s
parents split up he was coming home all the time asking and saying, and asking
whether me and Ed were splitting up when we were arguing. And we’d go, “No,
not at all.” And he still, every now and again, we still have to put his mind at rest,
because he says, “Rihanna doesn’t see her daddy now. Is that what happens?”
And it’s like little things like that.
TW: So, in that case do you think it would be more important to teach about it?
Mrs Friend: Yes, definitely.
TW: Because, leaving it until Rihanna’s mum and dad split up means that it’s
hard?
Mrs Friend: It’s harder for them to cope with. Definitely, I think so, because he
was very upset about that, because Rihanna was upset, so it concerned him a lot.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the issues of homophobia and same-sex relationships
arose side-by-side. While some parents were wary of this topic being covered in
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class, others were keen for these relationships to be approached in the same way
as any other. Some parents briefly mentioned children using or hearing
homophobic abuse and the way they had dealt with it. For some also, this was a
good reason for the word “gay” to be taught as part of SRE. It was when discussing
these subjects that parents’ view of education as a tool for positive social change
came through most clearly.
Ms Franklin: I mean, playing a sort of devil’s advocate a little bit, do you want to
sort of, is part of the purpose of education to try and remove any prejudice isn’t it,
and negativity.
Mrs Waites went on to equate racial prejudice with the use of homophobic
language.
Mrs Waites: But then that’s a way of turning it so that it’s not used as an insult.
It’s like racism. It then goes in the whole racism and sexism thing.
However, perhaps due to the age of their children and the broader topic of the
discussion, they did not explore this problem in great detail. Rather, parents were
much more focused on familial, loving relationships, most considering same-sex
relationships an appropriate topic to address within this context at KS1. However,
in one group there was some debate about whether children would have ‘the level
of maturity to deal with it’ (Mr Ling). This debate occurred when parents were
shown an array of ambiguous images depicting different types of families
(Christopher Winter Project 2009). Mrs Ling noted that, ‘There isn’t a same-sex
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one.’ Mrs Thomas pointed out to her group that homosexuality and same-sex
relationships ‘are a very common thing now’ and explained that she had already
been asked about these by her children. This led on to a brief, inconclusive,
discussion, in which parents pondered over whether the topic should be
addressed in Year 1 or Year 2, with parents seeming to favour the latter.
Mr Heyman expressed his perspective: ‘I mean, I’m not saying hide away from it,
I’m just saying you don’t need to proactively bring it up,’ a viewpoint that was not
directly contradicted by other members of the group at that time. However, through
the focus group discussion Mr Heymann came to view lessons with this topic focus
as an opportunity to address his values with his children.
Mr Heymann: Because I came in to this today, as an example, I really would
disagree with same-sex relationships being brought up. But from listening to
everybody I can actually see it, hopefully, from your perspectives as well. And
actually, thinking now, it wouldn’t necessarily be such a bad thing. . . . I can say,
well, we believe something different from what you’ve been taught and just kind
of clarify what your values are.
For Mrs Paxton, there came no such change of viewpoint. The idea that her
children would be introduced to the existence of homosexuality and same-sex
partners was quite disturbing. When discussing the possibility of using stories to
introduce sensitive subjects, she explained: ‘I would be totally offended by it. It’s
up to people, if they want same-sex relationships, but I don’t want it thrown in my
children’s faces through books and I would probably stop them reading them.’
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Parents were often motivated by the need for children to understand what they
saw on a day-to-day basis, with Mrs Winston wondering how she would address
the possibility of ‘walking down the street [with her children] . . . and seeing two
women kissing’. What children might see on television was also given as a reason
to address the subject of same-sex relationships. Contemplating a Coronation
Street storyline that portrayed a lesbian couple, Ms Knight explained that her
children ‘hear a lot on the telly . . . So, I think, yes, in a school environment talking
about things properly is a good thing.’ What also became obvious was the extent
to which children had already come across gay and lesbian couples among their
families, friends and neighbours, and in one case had family members who had
undergone gender reassignment.
Mrs Thomas: I think it’s important, because not teaching things like that
[homosexuality and same-sex relationships] can cause discrimination. They’ll
think that it’s not right. There are so many different types of families. And as I said,
with their grandfather having a sex change, and his brother also having a sex
change, it makes a whole new dynamic for our family. I mean, it’s not wrong. And
my boys, they know what ‘gay’ is. They know about girl-girl relationships, and boyboy, and girl-boy. Sex changes, well we’ve been through all that. But again, we’re
very open about it. Not everyone’s going to be. That’s a minefield.
Ms Knight: I think as well, it’s important for them to know while they’re young
because if you tell them something that’s quite, I don’t know how to broach that –
they’re going to be blasé about it. They’re like that, aren’t they, children. Whereas
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to them the same-sex relationship being taught, it’s normal. --- I think it’s the best
way.
******
Mrs Winston: The same-sex relationship one, that you see, my brother, his
daughter is living with her mum who’s a lesbian, so obviously she’s got two
females there. Miles, the older one, he’s not particularly interested, but Matty’s
asking, “Why does she love a woman?” Because they’re brought up to expect it
to be a mum and a dad. I think society is changing so much, that there are a lot of
same-sex relationships, and children, they are inquisitive; they are asking
questions. So, I don’t know, maybe teaching them sex education earlier on doesn’t
necessarily avoid tricky questions but maybe puts a bit of insight into their minds
about it. Because that’s just a personal one for me, that I’ve had to say, “Well, you
know, some ladies do love ladies, and some men do love ladies.” But my boy has
said, “You love grandma.” But I will say, “Not in that way. I’m not in love with
grandma, whereas they’re in love together.”
This discussion also led some parents to consider the role of children’s narrative
texts in portraying different types of relationships, and began to think about the
pedagogical implications of addressing the subject.
Mrs Winston: For me personally, yes. I think it’s great. I mean, like I say, I don’t
want them to be graphic, but touch on a subject, making them aware that this is
how things happen now. You know, 40, 50 years ago, you wouldn’t have had
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same-sex, divorce you would have, it depends on your upbringing. I mean, I’ve
been brought up to believe a husband and wife stay together forever, but that’s
not how it happens now.
In relation to the family, these parents felt that the core values to be explored were
uncontroversial, with love, respect, honesty and responsibility coming to the fore.
The parent participants spent a good deal of time developing and clarifying their
own views about the inclusion of homosexuality and same-sex relationships in the
curriculum. Ultimately, most arrived at the conclusion that children needed to
understand the world around them and that an early introduction to a diverse
range of lifestyles might ultimately lead to greater tolerance. At no point however,
did a parent suggest that this diversity should be positively valued; rather they
were keen that their children should be accepting and understanding of those
relationships that they portrayed as straying from the heterosexual norm. None of
the parents considered that by exploring diversity in sexuality and relationships
that children might be learning about their own identities and partnerships.
5.5 Heteronormativity and gender stereotypes
Parents examined a picture sorting activity that was designed to challenge
stereotypes (Christopher Winter 2009). This they regarded as uncontroversial at
Years 1 and 2. However, at least one parent believed that there are some
essential ways of being linked to the body, although these were ill-defined.
Mrs Waites: I think relationships, I mean, relationships – they need to know
how to deal with other people. How to form friendships. All that. Males and
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females: the differences. That women can, girls have their different ways. Boys
have their different ways. And how to interact together as well, as they get older.
One group explored their own children’s attitudes toward gender specific activities
and their awareness of the consequences of stepping outside of gender-defined
norms.
Ms Franklin: Because I think Rosetta, who’s in Year 2, would do the usual: “Well
that would be a girl, but a boy could play with that too.” Whereas Colin, who’s
obviously Reception, would go: “That’s for boys”, and he wouldn’t, and he
wouldn’t . . . “No, only boys can play.” I don’t know if that’s a typical boy thing or
whether he’ll change in two years.
Mrs Thomas: I think they will, because John and William say, because both of
them play with dolls and stuff, and play with My Little Pony, and they’ve gotten
teased and stuff. And both of them turn around and say, “Anyone can play with
anything they want to.” So ---//
Mrs Winston: Now Miles [oldest son in year 6], one of his favourite movies is
Rapunzel, but he’ll say to me – and it’s a good film – he’ll say to me, “Don’t tell
anyone, mummy.”
Ms Franklin: Well, that’s why it’s called Tangled. For that reason: to attract the
boys.
Mrs Paxton: Because Rapunzel’s girly.
Mrs Thomas: Because Rapunzel’s girly.
Ms Franklin: Yeah, that’s why they do it.
Ms Winston: But he likes it. He really likes it.
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Mrs Thomas: The boys watch all the Barbie shows. They’ve shown them on TV,
all the things that Barbie’s done. They watch them all the time.
Mrs Winston: The boys watch Tinkerbell and all of them. Because Matty, the
younger one, has heard Miles say, “Don’t tell anyone.” I think it’s stereotyped that
it should only be girls that watch these. Which it shouldn’t.
Here Mrs Thomas recognised the dangers children potentially face when crossing
gender boundaries in even the most unobtrusive of ways (Thorne 1993). When
her sons played with “girls” toys they were subject to teasing and being
subordinated as Other but, she claimed, determinedly resisted other children’s
policing of their activities. In this, those children who police the gender identities
of others also reassert their own normative gender identities and reinforce a
heterosexist gender binary (Butler 1990). It is clear that Matty and Miles had learnt
the rules. They may have engaged in gender transgressive acts but knew to hide
these away to protect themselves from facing censure and being identified as
feminine.
Rapunzel, in the 2010 film Tangled, is part of Disney’s stock of ‘new princesses’
(England, Descartes and Collier-Meek 2011; Stover 2013; Wilde 2014). Unlike her
earlier counterparts, she is an active heroine who takes control of her own destiny.
However, just like those earlier princesses, Rapunzel’s fate is to fall in love and
marry the film’s male lead: she still gets her traditional “happily ever after”. Mrs
Winston’s sons were indeed breaking away, with her support, from stereotypical
boys’ entertainment, but they were still imbibing a normative heterosexual
romantic storyline. She was also quick to point out that, ‘He [Matty] wanted to be
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like the hero.’ In this way, Mrs Winston glossed over the gender non-conformity of
her sons’ viewing preferences that might have been viewed by some as an
indicator of homosexuality (Martin 2009).
Mrs Winston was not outwardly inclined to interpret the boys’ enjoyment of these
films as a sign that they might be anything other than heterosexual. She was also
safe in the knowledge that these films are reinforcing the hetero-romantic
relationships that she desires for her children. She explained: ‘In an ideal world,
everyone wants there to be a mum and dad and two kids don’t they, they don’t
particularly want it to be two ladies or two men, but it happens.’ Although Mrs
Winston used ‘they’ in her statement, what she seems to be communicating is that
she felt everybody wants this for their children, including herself. Similarly, Mrs
Thomas’ assertion again clearly privileged a particular form of heterosexual
lifestyle: ‘Because William is very technically minded. He wouldn’t stop with, well
after you’re married, and you have a house, and a job, and a car – which, they’ve
got this in a row. We will beat this into our sons!’ It must be remembered that at
this time same-sex marriage was still illegal; Mrs Thomas was, therefore, talking
about heterosexual marriage. Both these mothers have family members who
occupy LGBT+ identities. Consequently, it might be thought that they would be
better prepared to embrace non-stereotypical behaviours. At least rhetorically,
however, they appear to be raising their children in an environment driven by
heteronormative values in a similar way to other parents in the focus groups.
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Justifying her support for teaching about same-sex relationships, Mrs Fellowes,
alone among the parents, acknowledged the possibility that some children might
identify as anything other than heterosexual.
Mrs Fellowes: Because I suppose, especially for them [children] who do feel
that’s them, they like girls or they like boys, I suppose they have to make it seem
like it’s not, it’s normal. Because, obviously it can start from a very early age, when
they think they’re in the wrong body or that sort of thing. So, yes. Although, as
you [Ms Knight] say, you’ve got to go about it sensitively. You need to think some
people choose that sort of thing.
Even here, Mrs Fellowes presents a confused picture. She has picked out one
very specific possibility, that of gender dysphoria. She also mentions ‘they like
girls or they like boys’ and seems to equate this with being ‘in the wrong body’,
perhaps suggesting ideas about the relationship between the body, gender and
sexuality that are still ultimately essentialist in nature. The explanation for
divergence from stereotypical ways of doing gender and heterosexuality is rooted
in an ‘error’ in the body. Presumably the way to fix the problem is to fix the body,
thereby bringing the body, gender and sexuality into “natural” alignment. However,
she then goes on to talk about choice. Throughout she appears to be distancing
her own children from these possibilities.
The very absence of a meaningful conversation among these parents around the
likelihood of any children, not only their own, being anything other than
heterosexual is revealing. There is a “real” (heterosexual) way of doing girl and
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doing boy, but these parents also identified times when their children transgressed
normative gender identities. Yet, in their own lives, they have family members and
close friends who identify as LGBT+, but it seems that heterosexuality (and for
some a very particular lifestyle within that) is privileged and assumed for their
children, while non-heterosexuality is still very much Other (Davies and Robinson
2010; Martin 2009). This is not to say that these parents have not considered the
obvious possibility that their own children might identify as anything other than
heterosexual, but the articulated assumptions of heterosexuality where parents
are distancing themselves and their children from what they experience outside
of their own narrow versions of family might indicate a certain level protectiveness
of, or fear for, their children. There is also a possibility that parents were reluctant
to openly consider their children’s sexual identities because their parenting might
be judged negatively by the other group members. There is also the risk that such
a conversation might lead them to confront their own deeply held views about
childhood innocence, as distancing their children within the discussion also serves
to reinforce their perceived non-sexual natures (Davies and Robinson 2010;
Martin 2009).
In the parents’ conversations about gender and sexual identities, they were happy
for their children to be taught that it is acceptable to stray from stereotypical
images of girl and boy. However, they did not see this as an imperative that would
empower their and other children to inhabit significantly more fluid gender or
sexual identities. Nor did they identify opportunities to address girl / boy, male /
female power imbalances. They also steadfastly portrayed their own children as
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heterosexual and wanted their children to engage in lasting heterosexual
relationships.
5.6 Biology
During the first round of focus groups, unprompted with a question or review of a
lesson plan, one group of mothers was clear that they wanted their children to use
the correct terminology for genitalia. They also showed an awareness that
different families would use a variety of slang words and that their children would
encounter a great variety of language in the playground and classroom.
Ms Knight:
I think they should be taught about the body and the correct
terminology for things. But it’s difficult, because they are going to hear slang terms
for things. Like, Charlotte’s got a children’s dictionary and it’s got the reproductive
system in it, and her dad was sat there and she was saying, “What’s that? What’s
a p-e-n-i-s?” And I said, “It’s a penis.” Her dad was like that (pulls a disapproving
face). I said, “It’s children’s dictionary!” So, she was pointing them all out, and the
words and everything. But then she may hear from friends, or --- because,
parents, we all bring up our children differently, and some parents use different
words for different things. So, it’s difficult, what words they should be taught.
Mrs Thomas:
Mine have some interesting words.
But then they compare
themselves, also. So, with having two boys, we’ve just always used terms;
actually, I think we started with wee-wees. But I, I think having the proper terms
would help, because I made the mistake of making up cute names. And I’ll say,
“That’s a girl part; that’s a boy part.” And they’ll look at me like: “Mummy, that’s
not what it is.” So, yes that’s not how it’s used, and I have to back away. It’s, I
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would have preferred if I’d started having taught them the proper terms for
everything because it’s quite embarrassing when they yell, “Momma, your bo-bo’s
showing!” People in the store --- And they’re seven. Well, they’re seven in
January. I think technical terms work a lot better.
In terms of naming genitalia, parents often revealed that they had taught their
children the correct terminology for these parts of their bodies, although they did
not use these exclusively. Others had only used colloquial terms, but were happy
to teach or have their children taught the correct words, and, like Mrs Thomas,
some had wished they had taken this approach with their own children from the
very beginning.
Ms Franklin: Yes, I think they’re not exactly, you know, the female and male
body parts are not exactly nice names are they? But mine, my two, Colin and
Rosetta have stood in the bath and Rosetta’s gone, “This is a vagina,” and
William’s gone, “This is a penis.” And Rosetta’s like, “Yes, look at mine”, and
Williams – and I’ll say, “That’s enough of that now.” It’s never mentioned again,
they never use those words. But they know that’s the name of it, and I can’t even
remember ever, when it was, at what point we told them that that was the names,
it just kind of happens naturally, doesn’t it?
Some of the parents wanted to restrict anatomical naming to the penis and vagina.
They felt more information would be too challenging or likely to lead to more
questions that they did not want answered and recognised their children’s own
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curiosity. Responding to the content of the All About Us DVD (Channel 4 2006),
only one parent, Mrs Paxton, was against the idea completely.
Mrs Winston: Thinking about that [naming body parts], six-years is probably
about the right time to start saying things, because I know that I’ll be in the bath,
and you can never have five minutes peace//
Ms Franklin: They’re in there with you.
Mrs Winston: And then Matty will come in, and Miles [aged ten] knows, he knows
so much. Matty won’t come in, you’ll find him kind of looking with his head to the
side trying to see what’s happening and why you haven’t got this penis, “willy”, as
they know it. I mean, when he was younger, we always used to say it just dropped
off. Tell him these silly stories. And then, as you get older, well, we actually said,
“You play with it, it drops off.” But that’s another story. But I wouldn’t like him
saying that on the playground. Part of the truth would be good, because I don’t
want him talking to someone in Mr Hall’s class and saying, “My mum’s willy
dropped off.”
Mrs Paxton: I know you’re right, I’m a bit more reserved and I don’t want to tell
them.
Mrs Winston: No, but when they’re looking
Mrs Winston: I don’t mind them knowing words like penis and vagina, but I don’t
know if I want words like clitoris, er, “It gets hard”, and . . . it’s too much for that
age.
Mrs Paxton: I also think that when they talk about, “Mummy and daddy need
these parts to create you”, because at that age my children don’t need to know
that.
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Mrs Winston: It’s just going to open a can of worms. A lot of questions that --but why do they need to know that?
Later, having watched the DVD (Channel 4 2006) in the second session, which
showed anatomically correct diagrams of male and female external and internal
sex organs alongside a commentary that included an allusion to pleasure, the
conversation once again turned to the question of protecting innocence and
discouraging sexual experimentation. Indeed, as Mrs Winston’s statement “You
play with it, it drops off” demonstrates, in conversations with children at home
there is, once more, a tendency to avoid providing correct information and an
evasion of the subject of pleasure.
Mrs Winston: I think they should stop before they open up the vagina and show
the details.
Ms Franklin: It was at that point that you started to feel a bit uncomfortable.
Mrs Winston: And by all means use your cartoon characters. Say: “This is a
vagina. This is a penis.” But they don’t need to know the rest.
Mrs Thomas: I agree with that.
Ms Franklin: Yeah. Leave the rest for when they’re a little bit older. Perhaps I’m
being old fashioned?
Mrs Paxton: No.
Mrs Thomas: But it doesn’t need to. Up to that point. The boys have asked quite
detailed. Oh, really! And William doesn’t let anything go. We’ve had to go right up
to the point of I’m not going there anymore.
(Laughter)
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Ms Franklin: But you’ve got to be honest with them, haven’t you?
Mrs Paxton: But it’s putting those things into a child’s mind at six-years old that
doesn’t need to be. You’d perhaps expect the parents to answer if they ask, but//
Mrs Thomas: I’m not sure I would have gone into the whole when it gets hard,
or the clitoris. I wouldn’t touch that with a ten-foot barge pole.
Mrs Winston: If they’re talking about a penis going hard and it’s quite pleasurable,
or a clitoris going hard, in the long run is that going to be making them more
sexually aware that they might want to try it?
As the conversation continued, two of the mothers of boys talked about their own
sons’ gaining pleasure and being curious.
Mrs Winston: . . . Having two boys, they find it exciting, very fun, erm //
(Laughter)
But, erm //
Ms Franklin: I just say, “Stop messing”. It’s like, well no. Just find an appropriate
place to do it. And I get, “My willy’s sticking up!” If it was me, I wouldn’t want to
say “This is the clitoris and this is the --- ” You wouldn’t want to do that would you?
Rather than viewing the boys’ behaviour as a real problem or a sign of
inappropriate premature sexuality, the parents seemed to find the boys’ curiosity
and pleasure amusing. However, when it came to girls’ sexuality and the thought
of talking about the clitoris and pleasure this was a step too far; girls’ pleasure
was, in this way, glossed over and the discourse of girlhood innocence
maintained.
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By way of contrast, both a small group of mothers (Mrs Friend, Mrs Waites and
Mrs Fellowes) and a group of parents that consisted of three fathers (Mr
Heymann, Mr Ling and Mr Egan) and one mother (Mrs Ling) found no difficulty in
accepting the full range of issues and information covered in the DVD, including
the introduction of the clitoris and the notion of pleasure. While the mothers’ group
was initially surprised by some of the content, they found that within the context
of the DVD the information given was appropriate.
Mrs Friend: I was a bit shocked when they said about the clitoris and stuff, and
that was quite shocking in a way, because I didn’t expect it to be focused at Year
2. But then again, how they’ve spread it out, I think overall, it was okay.
Mrs Waites: Yes, and I think, because they’ve talked about it, and the way
they’ve talked about it – that things are normal, and the differences are normal –
it doesn’t make it an issue.
Mrs Fellowes: It doesn’t make it an issue.
Mrs Waites: It’s natural, so it just makes it fine, and the kids will be just: “Oh,
that’s fine.” Except it might lead to more questions.
The fathers too saw the DVD as ‘a reasonable way to introduce it’ (Mr Heymann)
and ‘a gentle introduction’ (Mr Ling). This group was also very relaxed with the
fact that different classes might take the lesson in different directions and gain
more information than others.
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Mr Egan: It’s a good basic package, I mean, the discussion will bend and sway
depending on the class won’t it, and it may go little bit further with one class than
another class, it just depends on the group.
Nonetheless, while the fathers were clear that they did not want a class to engage
in discussion of intercourse and conception, a mothers’ group felt that, so long as
the discussion was couched within the context of a loving relationship, teachers
should respond to children’s questions to avoid possible misconceptions. In fact,
some of those present had already begun to talk about pregnancy and childbirth,
largely in response to their children’s questions.
Ms Kennedy: I mean, I don’t know about everyone else, but I know Jeremy has
asked questions about how you make a baby, that sort of question. He’s asked
me, and I’ve been quite open about it. Not giving too much detail away, but I think
it’s important to know a little bit if they ask. And I think that’s about a maturity.
Ms Gage: I agree. I agree with that.
Ms Kennedy: Lots of my friends are having babies. And we had a conversation
about it the other day. And he said, and he overheard me saying she’s planning
on having a baby. And he said, “What do you mean she’s planning on having a
baby?” So, we had a little brief chat about that. And then he said, “Well how did it
get there?” So, I said, typical teacher, “How do you think?” Interested in what he’s
say. And his answer was, “Well I think what happens is you eat lots of fruit and
vegetables and you have lots of calcium, because babies need calcium and they
need milk.” And that was his kind of answer to it, so we talked. And said you need
a man and a woman, so he knew that from somewhere. I don’t know where he
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knew that from. And then he asked me a little bit. And I said, I told him a little bit
about how a lady has eggs, and then he went, “Oh, okay thanks.” And that was it.
So, he obviously didn’t want to know much more. It’s just, as you say, that kind of
maturity level. Whether they’re ready to know, and you know your own children.
But as a teacher, coming to me, that’s quite hard to teach a class that when some
of them aren’t ready for it.
Parents throughout the study had noted the influence of the media and what
children observed in the world around them in the need to develop children’s ‘true’
understanding: to avoid the development of misconceptions and confusion (see
Davies and Robinson 2010). This group of parents also acknowledged that their
children would not only be receiving information about sex from trusted adults, but
would likely be gathering knowledge from other children.
Mrs Waites: I think it [children’s questions] would need answering.
Mrs Fellowes: Otherwise they will make up their own ideas.
Mrs Waites: Or they will get it in the playground, and I think that’s a lot worse.
So if they do ask, then I think it needs answering. Again, you can do it in a
scientific, simple way.
******
Ms Franklin: I think we’re quite open in our house, and I think it’s all age
appropriate, and I think when it starts to get into difficulties sometimes, is when
you’ve got older children isn’t it, and you know, with him, he’s only in Reception,
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he plays football in the park and he’s playing with older kids and sometimes they’re
using foul language and they’re saying things, and sometimes he will pick things
up. He doesn’t necessarily ask the question, but sometimes he will use terms and
you’re thinking, you don’t know what the hell it means, you know. We won’t
necessarily always explain to him what that actual word means, because
sometimes you don’t want to do that do you, but yes, we try to be as open, but in
a careful way. Like you say, sort of what you think is age appropriate isn’t it?
Parents’ general agreement that children should be taught the correct terminology
for the vagina and penis was only undercut by Mrs Paxton. There was less of a
consensus when it came to moving beyond this, to naming the clitoris, discussing
notions of pleasure, conception and childbirth. However, the context of the All
About Us DVD (Channel 4 2006) did have an impact on the way that parents
viewed these more challenging aspects of SRE. This introduced parents to
concepts that they had not previously considered would be topics for KS1 SRE
and most were initially surprised by the DVD’s content. Nonetheless, these
parents were thoughtful when discussing these aspects of SRE and were open to
more complex teaching of the biological aspects of the curriculum.
This is not to say there was total agreement among the participants and a gender
divide did begin to emerge, with fathers tending to be more open to children being
taught a wider range of anatomy, certainly within the context of the video. They
were less comfortable with the subjects of conception and childbirth, however. For
many of the mothers, it was the reverse: the teaching of anatomy could be
restricted but conception and childbirth were less problematic. These parents
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were still processing the implications of teaching these concepts and were often
articulating their own uncertainty through the course of the focus groups, leading
to no solid agreement, beyond the most basic naming of genitalia.
5.7 Parents’ experience and confidence
In 2015, the findings of the National Survey of Sexual Attitudes and Lifestyles
(Natsal) revealed that of the 3,896 men and women between the ages of 16 and
24 surveyed from 2010 to 2012, only 7.1% of men and 14.1% of women reported
that parents were the main source of ‘information about sexual matters’ (Natsal
2015 cited in Tanton et al 2015: 1). Examining these figures further, when asked
if they received any information on sexual matters from parents, 19.8% of men
and 42.7% of women claimed to have received information from their mothers and
17.6% of men and 6.9% women from their fathers. ‘Among those who felt they
ought to have known more, school was the most commonly-reported preferred
source for both men and women (47.7%, no gender difference . . .), followed by
mothers for women (40.0%) and fathers for men (22.7%)’ (Natsal 2015 cited in
Tanton et al 2015: 4). Despite these figures, the responsibility for SRE is
commonly viewed as a partnership between schools and parents, with parents
seen as having prime responsibility for their children’s sexual socialisation. Hence,
there is the longstanding right of parents to withdraw their children from SRE
lessons and to be consulted on the form and content of their SRE programme in
their children’s schools (DfE 2000; DfE 2018a; DfE and Greening 2017; FPA 2011;
Long 2015; NAHT 2013).
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Even those parents who wish to claim the responsibility for their children’s SRE
sometimes do this on the basis that they can protect their children from too much
knowledge and the influences of an overly-permissive society and education
system (Christian Concern 2016; Christian Institute 2016; Paton 2015; Smith
2017). Other parents, who say they recognise the importance of SRE, are
sometimes reluctant to fulfil the role of educator due to their own lack of
confidence, knowledge or courage (Alldred and David 2007; Dyson and Smith
2012; Frankham 2006; Halstead and Reiss 2003; Milton 2002; Stone, Ingham and
Gibbins 2013; Turnbull, van Wersch and van Schaik 2011; Walker 2004). Studies
have shown that the unease or embarrassment that parents sometimes feel when
considering providing SRE for their children is often rooted in their own
experiences (or absence) of sex education, their dearth of knowledge, or lack of
confidence in that knowledge (Alldred and David 2007; Davies and Robinson
2010; Dyson and Smith 2012; Frankham 2006; Halstead and Reiss 2003; Milton
2002; Feldman and Rosenthal 2000; Stone 2013; Turnbull 2012; Walker 2004;
Walker and Milton 2006).
Milton (2002), for example, discussed sex education with mothers of Years 5 and
6 children (aged 10-12) from three schools in Sydney, Australia. These mothers
frequently responded to queries from their children and sometimes initiated
conversations about sexual matters. Some, however, were reluctant or
uncomfortable talking with their children. This was particularly the case for those
mothers who had not received sex education from their own parents, who ‘wanted
to talk to their children but didn’t know how’ (Milton 2002: n.p). Milton also found
that, even among parents who were generally at ease talking to their children
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about puberty, ‘quite a few’ found topics like sexual intercourse and paedophilia
more challenging (Milton 2002: n.p.). All the mothers she spoke to were happy to
hand over some responsibility for their children’s sex and relationships education
to schools, and this was particularly the case for those least comfortable with
assuming this role themselves.
Ten years later, a similar picture emerged when Dyson and Smith (2012)
examined parental attitudes to both home- and school-based SRE. They gathered
data from four focus groups, comprising 31 parents (28 female and 3 male) with
children in primary and secondary schools. Some of the parents who took part in
these focus group interviews reported that as children they had received no or
‘very limited’ sex education, and some had negative experiences of SRE (Dyson
and Smith 2012: 222). These parents acknowledged the impact of this on their
ability and self-confidence in providing their own children with adequate sex
education. Rather than speaking to their children openly. ‘they would avoid the
subject altogether and wait for children to ask’ (Dyson and Smith 2012: 223).
Those who felt their own sex education was deficient wanted their children’s
experiences to be better but were held back by their own perceived inadequacies
and lack of formal training.
Similar patterns emerged among parents in this study. Most claimed they were
happy to talk to their children openly about a range of sex-related issues, including
body differences, same-sex relationships, and aspects of pregnancy and
childbirth, but a significant minority did admit that they felt uncomfortable or
embarrassed to do so. However, looking below the surface of the more confident
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statements, there were important limitations on the information parents were
willing to share, even when asked direct questions by their children. Furthermore,
as with some of the participants in Davies and Robinsons’ (2010) study, two of
the mothers also spoke about their male partners being less open to their children
being educated about sexual matters than they were themselves (Mrs Thomas
and Ms Knight):
Mrs Thomas: Some people are much more – like my husband. He’s more rigid.
He --- I have a cousin who’s gay. The boys know all about that and sex changes
already, because their grandfather’s now a female. And that whole aspect of it,
I’ve never hidden anything from the boys. I have no problem with it. But my
husband comes unglued at the mere mention of it. So I think I’m very easy going
about it, but my husband’s not.
Like those parents who participated in Milton’s (2002) study, Ms Knight, who
reported that she was generally very open with her children, had her own
reservations about what she would discuss with her two daughters:
Ms Knight: Do you mean, how do you teach your children? When they ask THE
QUESTION, ‘Where do babies come from?” As a mum, I just cannot get my head
around explaining the act that you have to do to get that baby. But being taught in
school, and the correct way. Then I’m happy for them to learn. Because they do
need to learn where//
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Mrs Thomas discussed her efforts to deal with her sons’ question of “Where do
babies come from?” Alone among these parents, she initially appeared to have
very few boundaries in terms of the questions to which she would honestly
respond in the hope that her boys would be happy with the answers they received.
Mrs Thomas: That’s where we ran into problems, because William is very
technically minded. . . . Because we’ve already had the conversation about what
the parts are for. I mean, obviously breasts are for the baby to feed off, and that
type of thing, and then in was about the other bits. And I explained that your
mummy bits and your daddy bits go together, after all this you can create a baby.
William didn’t stop at this. John did, he just walked out of the room. But William,
he kept going. So we had to talk about his special seed. The mummy’s special
egg, and where it was, and stored, and how it comes out. And at that point I was
thinking I have no idea of what to say. That was when I had to stop. I said, “We’ll
have to discuss this when you’re older.”
Mrs Fellowes: You see yours are quite inquisitive. You see, mine are: “Too much
information. I don’t want to know mum.” That’s what I normally get about anything.
Mrs Thomas: You start with, “How does this do it?” and “How does this do it?”
And it just snowballs from there. And you can’t just say, “Well, you’re too young to
know about that” – when it doesn’t go away. Like I got asked at the weekend,
week after week until he was satisfied with the answer. And he had the
understanding in his mind of how it worked.
Mirroring the views of parents in previous studies (Advocates for Youth & SIECUS
1999 cited in Berne et al 2000; Milton 2004 cited in Walker and Milton 2006), those
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who lacked confidence in their ability to communicate effectively with their children
were relieved at the thought that someone who had trained to teach would be able
to inform their children about sexual matters and to answer questions they did not
feel well-equipped to answer. They were also keen to receive some instruction to
help them support their children.
Miss Gage: Well, I’ll be honest I’ve never had a situation, a massive situation yet.
And I’m dreading it. Because it will be me, not her father, that has to deal with it.
And I don’t know where to begin. I wouldn’t know where to begin. Because, I’m
like – you’re so sweet and innocent.
Mr Egan: How were your parents with you?
Miss Gage: Believe it ---. The reason I’m here is because I was told nothing//
Ms Kennedy: I don’t remember being told anything.
Miss Gage: Although, you know, when sex comes into it, I didn’t have a child until
I was 26, so that never affected me. But, I don’t know. No, they never told me
anything. Till I got to senior school I just listened to my friends, and whatever
happened. They were completely closed off to me. That’s why I’m here today,
because I don’t want that for my daughter.
Mr Egan: I think, like we said before, whatever programme is produced, if we
could have some instructions//
Miss Gage: Or help.
Mr Ling: If something could go out to parents from day one.
******
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Mrs Friend: I think I would prefer a teacher telling them because, I don’t know,
it’s learning and the way the teachers probably put things better than how I would
describe it. My six-year old has asked a few questions, but probably that’s
because he’s friends with children that have got older siblings as well, so they do
come up in conversation. When he comes home and asks us, I’m thinking, go
and ask your dad, because I haven’t got a clue, so I thought I would say something
wrong.
Parents throughout these focus groups recognised their own role in educating and
their children about sex and relationship issues. However, like parents in previous
studies, they often felt they lacked the knowledge and skills to act effectively, often
due to their own experiences of SRE. This frequently them to place a strong
emphasis on the role of teachers and schools in performing this function
effectively.
5.8 A partnership approach and confidence in teachers
Like parents in Milton’s (2002) study, these participants were keen for the school
to establish information evenings so they would be both clear about what would
be taught in school and prepared to answer further questions that children might
have. Parents sometimes acknowledged that what their children would be taught
in school might not fit with their own beliefs or value systems. They also felt that
this was something that they as a family should be able to address, particularly if
they had some understanding of what their children would be covering in school.
Most expressed high degrees of confidence in their children’s teachers and
wanted to work in partnership with the school.
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Mr Heymann: I think, like we said before, whatever programme is produced, if we
could have some instructions//
Miss Gage: Or help.
Mrs Fellowes: If something can go out to parents from day one//
Mrs Waites: And just like you do with maths and literacy evenings, to be sex and
relationships. I mean, parents need to not be scared about coming in. Not label it
sex and relationships evening.
******
Mr Heymann: If, from a religious point of view, if you were talking about samesex relationships it wouldn’t be a problem, because you’re kind of addressing the
issue up front. And then I can say, just as you would if you were studying different
religions, or something. It would be exactly the same. I can say, “Well we believe
something slightly different from what you’ve been taught”, and just kind of clarify
what your values are. It’s probably a good opportunity to sit down and you’ve
made the difficult or embarrassing approach really, and it’s up to us. It’s easier for
us to say, “Well, actually I know what you’ve been talking about today. Have you
got any questions about it?” It probably makes it easier for us then.
When discussing where the use of the DVD (Channel 4 2006) might lead, the
fathers were clear that they would not want the discussion to stray into the areas
of intercourse and conception. Nonetheless, they were confident that teachers
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would be best placed to decide how to deal with any “awkward” questions that
might arise.
Mr Ling: I suppose, as I said last time, if you wanted to go further into the
mechanics of it, because there’s always one, isn’t there, who’s going to be a bit
more curious. Exactly how does that work? I don’t think that’s a conversation I’d
want to have.
Mr Heymann: Well it opens it up, doesn’t it? It’s like it mentions it in there.
Mr Ling: There’s got to be a male and female to make new life.
Mr Egan: And this is what the penis is used to, so it might bring that question up.
I’m sure it will. How you address it is really up to you.
Mr Heymann also felt that an approach where teachers were able to respond to
children’s questions in a well-informed and measured way would be useful in
supporting parents. This could lay for the foundation for parents’ discussions with
their children:
Mr Heymann: You know, they’re going to ask questions about their brothers or
sisters or whatever, and this will probably help parents to, you know, say you’ve
got a uniformed answer really, and they’re not embarrassed and it makes it easier
for parents, I think.
What was evident from these focus group interviews was that the majority of these
parents had confidence in their children’s teachers. As with any other subject, they
trusted teachers’ judgements and knowledge-base, and were happy that teachers
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would be able to communicate information effectively. They also echoed the views
of an Australian mother in Milton’s study who expressed admiration for teachers
stating that, ‘I think it is wonderful how they stand up there and say this in front of
the children’ (Milton 2004 quoted in Walker and Milton 2006: 422). At the same
time, they acknowledged that not all parents would feel the same way and that
teachers are potentially in a precarious position when it comes to answering
children’s questions, especially those that were not planned for.
Mrs Thomas: My boys [John and William] know way too much already. Yeah, I
have to be honest, having someone give them ideas – proper ones rather than
ones they come up with themselves – I don’t have a problem with ---//
Ms Knight: Again, that’s exactly how I feel. I think as long as it’s not in too much
detail. But then I think how they’re going to be taught in school is going to be
different than, I don’t know. The correct way, or the way that teachers put it is
going to be better. And rather than hear it from their friends, because there’s going
to be, going around with different friends. Well is that the right way, or is that how
it’s done, or is this how it’s done? So I think being taught it correctly//
Mrs Fellowes: Yes, I agree with that.
******
Ms Knight: I think, to be honest, your children come to school every day and you
respect that the teachers are going to teach the in the correct way. And they could
come to school any day and ask you something.
TW: They could.
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Ms Knight: And put you on the spot. And I think, as a parent, we’re all there on
those spots every day when the kids say something, so me, personally, I respect
the teacher for that to just say what she thought was the right thing at that moment.
And maybe discuss it with you after school. Or just say, “I said this,” or “She said
that.” But, then again, every parent isn’t going to have the same view.
There was also a good deal of sympathy for teachers who, parents felt, would be
in a difficult situation if children brought up topics or asked questions that were
beyond the scope of the school’s SRE plans. They considered ways in which
teachers might be able to protect themselves from the ire of unhappy parents.
Mrs Thomas: Everybody’s going to make mistakes, but not all parents are
forgiving. So, it’s, really, in general you have to consult with the parents about
what --- I think it should be told to the parents in some way, if only to cover the
teacher and the school, really.
Mrs Fellowes: Yes, so it doesn’t come back on you.
Mrs Thomas: Well this is it, because everything they teach can come back on
them, so they’ve got to cover their bases on it. I would say, just to protect the
school and the teacher it would have to be put into some kind of writing or told at
the door, kind of thing.
Clearly, these parents recognised the benefits of a “partnership’ approach” to
teaching their children, perhaps beyond the confines of SRE (Walker and Milton
2006: 423). Given their willingness to participate in this consultation this is perhaps
unsurprising. They saw potential advantages in the school curriculum introducing
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sensitive topics, providing information they did not feel equipped to impart and
reinforcing messages and values they wanted to instil. Where the partnership
potentially came adrift was when parents felt that the school would be encroaching
on their own role, giving too much information or countering their own values. They
could also see that, even if they had high levels of trust in their children’s teachers
and were willing to give them a good deal of latitude, other parents might disagree
with what and how their children were taught within the context of SRE and might
cause problems for the school or for individual members of staff.
5.9 Conclusion
The parents who took part in these focus group interviews volunteered to do so
because they had an interest in the school’s intention to review its policy on SRE
and to introduce the subject at KS1. Beyond this their motivations varied: Mrs
Paxton came adamant that she did not want the school to introduce her children
to SRE and encroach on her role as a parent. Miss Gage, on the other hand, came
to find out the school’s intentions, but then wanted to work toward the
development of the curriculum. Others, came to share their views and listen and,
particularly in Mr Heymann’s case, developed their own opinions through the
discussion.
By the end of the process there was broad agreement that the school had a
genuine role to play in SRE. The shape of the curriculum at KS1 that parents
wanted remained in some ways unclear, but some basic agreement was arrived
at. In these groups Mrs Paxton was an exception, but perhaps an exception that
could be seen as representative of parents less open to the possibilities of SRE
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for young children, particularly those whose objections are based on strongly held
religious convictions. Parents wanted their children to learn about friendship as a
starting point and to understand that some basic principles and values that serve
as a foundation for a productive friendship apply equally to all positive
relationships. Most parents were at least willing for their children to explore a
range of different types of families and romantic / sexual relationships, some
wanting their children to understand difference, others more proactively wishing
this would counter prejudice. In terms of gender and sexual identity, parents
seemed to assume that their own children were heterosexual. They were at ease
with the idea that gender stereotypes might be challenged, and some recounted
examples of when their own children did not fit the established mould.
Agreement about the biological aspects of SRE was fairly narrow: that children
should be taught the correct terms for genitalia (specifically penis and vagina).
Parents were unsure what should be covered beyond this baseline.
Much unease about curriculum content and pedagogy was related to a firmly held
value of childhood innocence. This was a concept that parents held dear but
struggled to define. It also led them to take positions that were contradictory and
they wrestled with their own uncertainty. Similarly, parents’ understanding of sex,
gender and sexuality were firmly rooted in a heterosexist model.
What did emerge was a strong sense of confidence and trust that these parents
had in their children’s teachers and the school. While they were sometimes
unclear about what children should be taught and the kinds of questions they were
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happy for their children to have answered, they expressed faith in the expertise
and judgement of their teachers. At the same time, they recognised the potential
pitfalls of teaching SRE; they knew that teachers might ‘make a mistake’ and give
children ‘too much’ information, and that some parents might react negatively to
this. Nonetheless, they regarded SRE as an important part of the curriculum, saw
the value of good communication between parents and teachers, and the benefits
of some parents being allowed to remove their children from SRE to avoid conflict.
They envisaged a productive parent-school partnership to the benefit of their own
and other children.
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Chapter 6: The world of the children
Children were proud of their girlfriend or boyfriend status and would take
advantage of any opportunity to quietly share this information with adults
and to fiercely challenge any of their peers who might try to question or
undermine it:
Lisa was standing in the line for dinner with a group of children from
my class. I began teasing the children in the queue that I was going
to eat all the chips before they were served. Lisa’s response was that
she would “set Archie on me”. She went on to confide quietly,
“Archie’s my boyfriend.” One of the boys overheard this and
exclaimed, “Yeah, but Archie likes Ella!” “But he’s still my boyfriend,”
Lisa retorted.
6.1 Introduction
In this chapter I draw upon Butler’s (1990, 1993) conception of the heterosexual
hegemony to interrogate how gendered and sexual identities are constructed by
young children in the primary school. This approach assumes that gender and
sexual identities are both relational and performatively constituted, in that they are
not natural but appear so through repeated performance. Connell’s concept of
hegemonic masculinity (Carrigan, Connell and Lee 1985; Connell 1995) has also
proved useful here as a tool for understanding relationships between boys, as well
as between girls and boys.
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Following their own focus group research into Year 5 children’s values and SRE,
Halstead and Reiss (2003) justified the necessity of speaking to children before
constructing a sex education curriculum. Although their central focus was upon
the values that should be disseminated through SRE, much of what they argued
also holds true for the knowledge and skills that might be taught. Similarly, Alldred
and David’s (2007) argument that children’s lived experiences need to be the
starting point for SRE and that they should be encouraged to think critically about
gendered and sexual relations holds weight. Aside from the importance of showing
children respect and giving them the right to be heard, talking to children is the
one way to get a clear picture of what they want and need to learn about. Speaking
with them is the only way we can really discover what they already know and
understand.
With all the children’s focus groups, I started with an analysis of the children’s
views and experiences of family. After this, although there were common threads
running through each session, the children began to set the agenda to a greater
degree. They responded to prompts and questions but took topics in different
directions depending on their experiences and interests. The sections following
that on family are, therefore, gathered from different sessions, at different points
in interviews and combined with some of my own observations and experiences
in an attempt to make a coherent whole.
The following two sections of this chapter, 6.2 and 6.3, provide a grounding for
consideration of children’s social lives and the ways in which they actively
construct their gendered and sexual identities. Section 6.2 explores children’s
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complex experience and flexible construction of family and discusses some
implications for practice in schools. In section 6.3, children’s ideas about gender
difference are examined, including their attachment to stereotypes and their
attempts to reconcile their lived experiences with these. Section 6.4 discusses the
importance of the playground and play as a social space where children are free
to interact with a large number of others in a way that is relatively unregulated by
adults. Children’s conversations revealed the borderwork they undertake through
games and ways they used this space to forge their gender identities. Finally,
section 6.5 is dedicated to these children’s “romantic” attachments. Within this I
present two studies of a group of children’s intense friendship and of a girlfriendboyfriend relationship. Children’s heavy investment in these relationships is
explored, as are the status that come with being a boyfriend or girlfriend and the
assumed heterosexual nature of children’s romances.
What emerges throughout is children who have a strong attachment to normative
heterosexuality, but who are thoughtful and recognise occasions when their
underlying assumptions about the world are challenged by their own experiences.
6.2 What is a family?: Children’s experiences and understandings
According to the DfEE’s (2000: 11) SRE Guidance:
The Government recognises that there are strong and mutually
supportive relationships outside marriage. Therefore, pupils should
learn the significance of marriage and stable relationships as key
building blocks of community and society. Teaching in this area
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needs to be sensitive so as not to stigmatise children on the basis of
their home circumstances.
However, as noted above, there is a strong heterosexist tone to the document,
with heterosexual marriage assuming privileged status and families implicitly
defined as being based around children. In later Draft RSE Guidance (DfE, 2018a)
there is a firmer acknowledgement of different types of relationships and families
and a clearer steer toward LGBT inclusivity. However, as the PSHE Association
(2018) points out, the directive could still be stronger. This has led Stonewall to
call for the final version of the guidance to:
•
Require all primary schools to teach about LGBT families as
part of teaching on ‘different families’
•
Make it clear that all teaching of these subjects should be
LGBT-inclusive, rather than simply ‘recommending’ that it
should be, and make specific reference to schools’ duties
under the Equality Act 2010 not to discriminate against LGBT
pupils and families (Stonewall 2018: n.p).
Children’s experience of family and what that constitutes is significant as, like
school, this is where they begin to construct their own gendered and sexual
identities. From the perspective of creating a rounded and genuinely beneficial
SRE curriculum, it is also important for educators to gain an understanding of what
“family” means to the children they are teaching.
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If teachers and children are to explore notions of kinship, questions of who is part
of a family are important. The children in this study experienced family in a variety
of structures, including absent fathers with whom they may or may not have had
contact, parents with new partners, married parents with children sharing the
same household, and unmarried cohabiting parents. Some had many siblings,
while others had none.
O’Brien, Alldred and Jones’ (1996) exploration of children’s understanding of
family and kinship demonstrated that the “ideal” of the nuclear family, with children
and married parents, continued to hold a good deal of sway with children between
the ages of seven and nine. However, perhaps as family units have become more
diverse and complex, children’s understanding and active construction of kinship
/ family has been shown to be increasingly flexible and inclusive (Nixon, Greene
and Hogan 2006; Mason and Tipper 2006).
Based upon the outcomes of
interviews with children aged seven to twelve, Mason and Tipper (2006) reach a
number of conclusions about the way children define their kinship groups. They
identify a number of factors that are significant when ‘reckoning’ those they
considered to be ‘like family’: relationships were characterised as ‘close and
caring’; individuals need to be ‘close to a member of their “proper” kin’, have
‘regular contact’ and children and parents need a ‘shared biography’ (2006: 1617). If children are to learn about family relationships, these fluid accounts and
understandings of kinship need to be accounted for in the construction of a
curriculum.
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At the beginning of the first round of focus group sessions each child was asked
to draw and talk about the people in their families (as opposed to those they
regarded as like family) (Appendices 12a–12o). Although the central aim of this
was to garner information about how children saw their place within their families
and how they viewed those around them, it was also a tool to enable them to
“settle into” the focus group situation (Corsaro 2011, O’Brien, Alldred and Jones
1996, Halstead and Reiss 2003). As with the O’Brien, Alldred and Jones (1996)
study, children talked as they drew, gave a commentary on the process and often
stopped to ask for guidance about whom they should include. The response to
these enquiries was always that they should include anyone they regarded as part
of their family.
In a number of studies, children have included pets as part of their families
(O’Brien, Alldred and David 1996; Morrow 1998; Mason and Tipper 2006). As can
be seen from Elizabeth’s and Rosetta’s drawings below (Figs. 3 and 4), so too did
children who took part in these focus group interviews. In fact, with the exception
of Emily, children with pets included them in their pictures, these animals possibly
fulfilling Mason and Tipper’s (2006) criteria for ‘‘like family’ kin’.
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Fig.3
Fig.4
Some children drew only the members of their immediate family. For these
children those (people and animals) who lived in their household was the most
important criterion (O’Brien, Alldred and David 1996). For example, Eliza’s
drawing shows both of her parents, her brother and herself (see Fig.5). Others
depicted more complex and unconventional images of family life. Jeremy, for
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example, drew not only his mother and her partner (with whom he lived), but his
father who he saw on alternate weekends, a cousin, his childminder and her son
(his best friend) (see Fig. 6). Jeremy’s childminder was clearly an important and
regular presence in his life. She had looked after him since before he started
school and picked him up after school each day. Jeremy’s cousin, Alice, was also
an important constant as, when his father took him for the weekend, he would play
with her at his paternal grandparents' house. Interestingly, however, Jeremy’s
father’s parents did not feature in his picture or the discussion of his family. Not all
individuals that an “outsider” adult might consider to be part of a family, even using
Mason and Tipper’s (2006) criteria, matched the family members that some of
these children drew.
Fig. 5
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Fig. 6
Unlike the children in O’Brien, Alldred and Jones’ (1996: 96) study, who only drew
people who ‘had a consanguineal, affinal or adoptive relationship’ with them, Alan
(an only child) included his friends Rachel and Vicki and their parents, along with
his own mother and father (Fig.7). The two families lived in the same street and
often socialised together, and Alan clearly valued their relationship. In his picture,
he also included his pets and his grandparents, whom he saw on a fairly regular
basis. Their shared biographies and constant presence seemed important to
Alan’s ideas about who made up his family.
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Fig. 7
Finally, the presence of deceased relatives was quite common (see Fig. 8 and Fig.
9). Some were great grandparents whom the children had never met, while others
had recently passed away.
Nick: Well, my great granddad, when he was in the look-after-place where he got
looked after, me and mummy went to, brought him biscuits. Because he told us
what he liked and took them to him. And we use to see him a lot, but now he’s
died.
******
John: This is my great grandfather.
TW: And where does your great grandfather live?
William: We don’t know ‘cause we’ve never seen him.
John: No. He’s, erm, he’s in heaven now.
William: We haven’t got to seen him, ‘cause when we got here he died.
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Fig. 8
Fig. 9
Perhaps the intensity of recent interactions, in Nick’s case, accounts for the
inclusion of his great grandfather. John’s inclusion of relatives who were both
deceased and whom he had never met was more of a puzzle. However, much of
John’s family lived overseas and perhaps the physical absence of these living
246
people meant that the dead were as real as the living to John, especially if they
were the subject of frequent discussions in his household.
Clearly, this is only a small sample of children’s family profiles representing their
own perceptions of kinship. Nonetheless, the make-up of each of these families
was unique and few conformed to commonly held notions of traditional family
units, the kind promoted in political rhetoric by those for whom the main focus is
on stable families with married, heterosexual parents. What this demonstrates is
that if educators are to examine families and relationships in SRE (or any other
lesson) they need to be very aware of the vast range of family-types as perceived
by children rather than just focusing on genealogy and legally defined
relationships. It is also important to understand that children’s feelings about their
own family structures need to be dealt with sensitively, for while none of the
children expressed worries or concerns about their own families during focus
group sessions, comments from Charlotte’s mother illuminate a desire on behalf
of her children to conform to long-established familial patterns. Charlotte’s parents
were long term cohabiting partners with two daughters who, Charlotte’s mother
explained, frequently asked when their parents were going to get married.
Mrs Knight: But, at the moment with mine, it’s just if you love somebody you don’t
necessarily have to be married, because me and their dad aren’t married, but
we’ve been together for 18 years, since we were at school. So, because they often
say to me, “Are you and daddy going to get married?” I say, “I don’t know, maybe
one day.” But you don’t have to be married to love somebody.
247
The children also showed an awareness of the changes in others’ families but
appeared to be non-judgemental about these.
Mick: Like Rihanna. She, she had a dad, but her mum had a boyfriend and her
mum is getting, got married now, I think. And ---//
TW: She’s going to get married, isn’t she?
Mick: Yes, because Rhianna’s mum and dad split up so they’re going to get
married again.
Here it is clear that children’s experience of family is varied, complicated and not
always easy. To have a “one-size-fits-all” version of the family in teaching is to
ignore, exclude and diminish the value of all sorts of family types. The values of
one family compared to another are likely to be at best different from, and at worst
at odds with those of other families whose children are in the same class; teachers
need to reflect upon this (as do those policy makers who formulate curriculum
guidance) when designing schemes of work. Furthermore, the failure to explicitly
require lessons about families to reflect LGBT+ families is both exclusionary of
some children’s current experiences of family and limits the articulated possibilities
for children’s identities and future partnerships.
6.3 What’s a girl? What’s a boy?: How children identify and negotiate
gender difference
When children talk about the differences between boys and girls, how they define
what is a girl or a boy, what emerges is an awareness and assimilation of common
stereotypes alongside a knowledge that their own experiences do not necessarily
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tally with these stereotypes. While at times the children tried to devalue their own
experiences with explanations and qualifications, at other times they merely
shrugged-off these conflicts as immaterial to their own lives and understanding of
the world.
Most of the girls in the study had taken on many of the traits of ‘girly girls’; wearing
pink, glitter and flowers in their hair; they enjoyed ‘pamper parties’ and engaged
in ‘girly’ play. However, their appropriation of these cultural tropes was neither
constant nor unquestioning; nor had they assumed a hypersexualised version of
this identity. During a discussion about Sophie’s pamper party it became clear that
the girls enjoyed the process of making themselves ‘girly’ but did not want the
boys following a similar path. Sophie explained why she had chosen to have a
pamper party for her seventh birthday:
Sophie: Well, I like getting, like, make-up, and I love getting my hair done, and
my nails done. So that’s why I chose it.
The other girls were quick to agree that they enjoyed these processes and having
foot massages. When asked if boys could join in the girls were amused and initially
giggled at the idea that boys might want to have their hair and nails done, but they
agreed that if boys did go to a pamper party they would be allowed to have a foot
massage. Rihanna recalled that she had been to a party where the boys were
allowed tattoos and the girls nail varnish and that her four-year old brother, Seth,
had asked for nail varnish to be applied. While the response of the girls in the
focus group was to laugh at the idea of Seth having his nails varnished, what
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emerged from Rhianna’s brief recount is a reluctance on the part of the adults
present at the party to go along with Seth’s request. While Seth was engaging in
some gender transgressive behaviour, the adults were taking the opportunity to
reinforce normative gender boundaries.
Rihanna: Well, I did go to this party where we had tattoos. That was Christopher’s
party. Girls could get their nails done, and then the boys could have tattoos. But
girls can have tattoos if they want.
TW: Did boys get their nails done if they wanted?
Children: Giggles.
TW: No?
Sophie: That’s what I got done at my pamper party. Well, not at my pamper party,
my friend’s.
TW: Those nails that you’ve got now? The sparkly ones?
Sophie: Yeah.
TW: Why can’t boys have their nails done, Rhianna?
Rihanna: Because they said the boys are allowed boy dinosaur tattoos. The girls
are allowed dinosaurs.
TW: Wouldn’t they let them? Even if the boys wanted to would they not let them?
Rihanna: Well, Seth said, “I want my nails done!”
Children: Giggles.
TW: And what did they say then?
Rihanna: Well, they said, “Okay, you can have some sparkles.”
Children: Giggles.
TW: Right. So they let him have some sparkles, did they?
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Children: Giggles.
TW: Did he like that?
Rihanna: Well, they didn’t actually. They just put some little dashing sparkles, but
it wasn’t actually nail varnish.
Later, in one of the Year 2 mixed groups, Rosetta explained that her five-year-old
brother, Charlie, had also asked her to paint his nails.
Rosetta: My brother . . . my little brother, told me to paint his nails pink. And I did
it. And, erm, and it was really weird.
Children: Giggles.
TW: It was weird. Why was it weird?
Rosetta: He told me to paint them pink.
TW: You’re giggling. Why are you giggling?
Mick: (Laughing) Boys are allowed nail varnish on. Mr Hall did.
Charlotte: Boys don’t wear nail varnish and girls do.
TW: Is it ok for them to wear nail varnish if they want to though?
Children: Yeah.
Mick: They can have blue, but not pink.
Children: Giggles
TW: Okay, Rosetta.
Rosetta: He did it because his friend Adam, in his class – his dad, he’s not his
real dad, and he said his real dad’s in the army. And I thought it was weird. And
he said Adam’s proper dad was in the army and his other dad paints his nails, and
then Adam does it, and Charlie just copies.
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TW: What do you think about that Alan?
Alan: It’s silly.
TW: It’s silly. Why do you think that Alan?
Alan: Because boys don’t wear nail varnish.
Mick: I don’t know why they don’t.
TW: You don’t know why they don’t.
Fred: Some do.
TW: Some do, don’t they Fred?
Fred: Mr Hall did.
TW: Mr Hall did. And Mr Marshal did. [To celebrate the Queen’s Jubilee the two
teachers had painted their nails red, white and blue.]
Fred: They normally just wear black and not pink.
The idea of boys wearing nail varnish, especially pink nail varnish, was unheard
of and amusing to most of the children. Yet, they then began to question this, with
Mick’s reflections that boys could wear blue nail varnish and he did not know why
nail varnish was for girls but not boys. The children then began to dig deeper,
identifying that sometimes boys and men do wear nail varnish, including their own
male teachers. They managed to identify rules: no pink nail varnish for boys and
men, but perhaps “masculine’ colours (blue and black) are acceptable.
Meanwhile, the boys who participated in the study described the types of parties
they preferred. The Year 1s explained that they enjoyed parties at a local leisure
centre, which were based around sporting activities and video games (Matty,
John, William). The Year 2 boys expressed a preference for bowling (when they
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could stay up late), roller skating and visits to the pub or cinema (Fred, Bobby,
Nick).
The children were clearly trying to make sense of what the rules are for male and
female activities and adornment. While doing so they actively reconstructed these
rules to maintain clear masculine and feminine boundaries that chimed with their
own life experiences.
Bobby: Well. Once, when I was on holiday. And it was a bank holiday, I went to
Benidorm. I went with my friends called Helen, and Kirsty and Tom, and we didn’t.
And my brother. And all of the kids didn’t know if he was a girl or a boy dressed
up as a girl. So, me and Kirsty just went up to the person. And we said, “Hi” to her
and she said, “Hi” back. And then I shouted, “She’s a girl! She’s a girl!” when I
went back.
TW: How did you know she was a girl when she said, “Hi” back?
Bobby: Because she was speaking softly to me. And it was really funny, ‘cause
I was right next to her.
When asked to explain how they knew if someone was a girl or a boy, the children
initially gave well-worn answers, but each time they did so as a group they would
start to deconstruct the assertion based upon their own experiences. For example,
Rhianna began by saying that boys like to play football, while girls do not. This
then provoked others to reel out a list of those girls in school who enjoyed and
were proficient at football, and some of the boys protested that they did not enjoy
playing football. Likewise, when it was suggested that boys ‘fight a lot’ (Bobby) or
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that girls are ‘shyer than boys’ (Rosetta), wear lipstick and have long hair (Alan),
there began a debate about these as signifiers of gender. After some discussion,
the Year 2 group containing Mick, Elizabeth, Charlotte, Rosetta and Fred decided
that there were too many exceptions to their ideas about girls and boys. In the
face of so many contradictions they decided to abandon gender stereotypes and
concluded that: ‘They can all do the same things.’
Only in the Year 1 group was there a discussion of biological factors, largely
couched in terms of underwear.
Eliza: They don’t grow stuff on their body.
TW: They don’t grow stuff on their body, like what?
(Eliza indicates breasts and laughs.)
TW: Oh. I see.
Eliza: Boys don’t do that.
Matty: Bras.
TW: Bras. Thank you, Matty.
Eliza: And they’ve got different pants.
Children: Giggles
Eliza: Sometimes boys have boxer boys’ things.
The Year 2s stuck to appearance, clothing, activities and aptitudes in their
discussion. However, when I asked how one group of Year 2s knew the difference
between girls and boys, Nick whispered, ‘I know, but I don’t want to tell you.’
Although Charlotte replied, ‘I don’t think I’ll laugh if Nick tells’, he decided he
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wanted to tell me ‘later on.’ Nick’s right to decide what he spoke about and when
he decided to speak was respected and during the focus group session the subject
was left there. This does, however, probably indicate that these children knew that
the basis of difference is located in the body and that discussion of these
differences is a matter for a private rather than public space.
Neither the girls nor the boys rejected the idea of girls who did not fit the ‘girly’
mould. The girls were actively engaged in (per)forming their identities and
employed various modes of doing girl depending on the situation in which they
found themselves. For example, Polly was not a girly-girl, but was a footballer
admired by both the girls and boys for her skills on the field. Despite her footballing
prowess, however, it would be unlikely for her to be described as a tomboy. She
was an intelligent, pretty girl with long blond hair who employed a variety of girl
subjectivities depending on the situation. She was also the focus of Bobby’s, and
other boys’ romantic interests.
Bobby: I want to be Polly’s boyfriend, but Howard is Polly’s boyfriend.
None of the boys in the study could be thought of as ‘little toughs’ (Jordan 1995),
‘cool guys’ (Connell 1989) or Connolly’s ‘streetwise’ ‘bad boys’ (1995), although
groups of boys who conformed to many of the traits outlined by these authors were
identifiable within KS1 at BCP. These boys did, however, represent a range of
masculine identities. Mick, for example, was well liked by his peers and never
short of friends to play with (both male and female). He lived with his parents on
one of the newer “executive homes” estates with his stay-at-home mum, computer
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programmer dad and younger sister. Mick was an intelligent, articulate boy who,
unlike the boys described by Paley (1984), who would abandon teacher-initiated
tasks at the first opportunity, enjoyed sharing with the class extra work he had
completed at home or the details of educational excursions with his parents.
Despite having a profile in some ways akin to Connell’s (1989) secondary-aged
‘swots’, Mick was one of a small, socially privileged, group of boys who, despite
their friendships with girls, high academic achievements and lack of interest in
playground football, were still liked and respected by the rest of the boys in the
year group. However, Mick did have a long-term girlfriend, played football for the
school team, and, although a hard worker, would vocally complain when
completing any academic task, traits that seemed to insulate him from censure
and guarantee his popularity among the girls and the boys.
Bobby was also a high attaining and articulate boy but was frequently in trouble
for his behaviour both in and out of class, characteristics that Jordan (1995: 79)
refers to as a ‘touchstone for masculinity’. Unlike Mick, Bobby straddled two
camps. Despite his claims to the contrary, rather than sticking with the “smart
boys” he tended to gravitate towards groups of boys who would engage in rough
play and fighting, whom he described as ‘naughty boys’. At other times, he joined
other children in mixed-gender play, expressed admiration for some of the girls
and worked well in the classroom. Nonetheless, teachers often complained that
he was disruptive in class and he had been known to abuse other boys by calling
them ‘gay’ and on at least one occasion he had called Polly a ‘lesbian’ (see above).
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As noted above, William certainly failed to conform to any of the dominant models
of masculinity within the year groups. In addition to his love of My Little Pony, he
would cry when confronted with a task he did not wish to perform, found sports
challenging and unappealing, and would often spontaneously hug the girls in his
class and his teachers. Despite his behaviour, the other children seemed to
tolerate, although perhaps not embrace William if he joined their games. McGuffey
and Rich (1999) similarly describe seven-year old Joseph. They explain that they
had not observed Joseph’s peers calling him names and assume that this is
because his age means that he still has ‘the luxury of displaying behaviours (e.g.
crying) that are discredited in subsequent stages of middle childhood’ (McGuffey
and Rich 1999: 618).
Perhaps the profile of the boys in this study meant they were more thoughtful and
less strident about the features of boys and girls than might have been the case if
boys who conformed to the ‘little toughs’ profile had predominated in the focus
groups (Connolly 1995).
When children’s experiences failed to match their understanding of the world, they
went to great lengths to overcome their confusions and to create a situation that
made sense within their understanding of the rules of gender identity. Eliza was
tackling an issue that she clearly accepted on the one hand but struggled to with
in terms of the language she used. When the Year 1 children discussed physical
traits that defined men and women the question of hair arose, with an initial
assertion (from Eliza) that boys have short hair and girls have long hair. This claim
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was quickly broken down, both by the other children in Eliza’s group and by Eliza
herself who then went on to discuss her grandfather’s male partner.
Eliza: My granddad’s friend has a hair bobble in and her hair’s long. They live in
Spain, and she has a hair bobble in. Robin.
TW: Robin. She has it in.
Eliza: It’s a boy.
TW: I know who you’re talking about Eliza. Is that granddad’s friend?
Eliza Yes. He lives with her.
Children: (Giggles)
TW: So Robin has a hair bobble in? That sounds pretty.
Eliza: Sometimes.
As can be seen from the use of pronouns here, Eliza was trying to interpret
commonly held male / female signifiers (she has a hair bobble and her hair’s long),
and her grandfather’s relationship with a man rather than a woman. Consequently,
she had difficulty categorising Robin as either male or female. Eliza’s mother,
Judith Brown, confirmed her confusion over Robin, who she described as ‘very
feminine’: ‘Eliza who’s saying to my dad, “What time’s she coming home?” And
I’m like, “Eliza, Robin’s a man.” Then she had to ask, “Are you sure that lady’s a
man?”’ Clearly Eliza was aware of his masculinity (‘It’s a boy.’) but she
demonstrated her uncertainty when she fluctuated between referring to Robin as
‘he’ or ‘she’.
In discussions concerning academic proficiency the children were adamant that
there was no difference between girls and boys:
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Jeremy: ‘Cause Colin’s good at writing, and counting and Karen is good at writing.
Mick: I’m good at maths. Sophie’s good at maths.
This then led the children on to a discussion about the roles of adult men and
women. The children asserted that men and women can do the same jobs.
However, this came with certain caveats including the idea that women could take
on ‘men’s’ jobs, rather than the idea that occupations lacked a gender assignment.
Also, in no instance did the children talk about men in the same way. It was very
much the case that in some instances women could “step up” into the men’s arena,
which they seemed to regard as more prestigious and challenging.
Mick: ‘Cause boys do fighting, and then boys can go in the army when they grow
up.
TW: Can’t girls do that?
Sophie: They can if they want.
Mick: They can. Well in World War I they did.
Bobby: Yeah. Because in this movie called Battle of Los Angeles, there’s these
robots that army people defeat. And there was girl in the back garden. And the girl
just shot the robot, and it landed in the swimming pool. And the robot just came
right at her, and she had to get her rocket launcher and blow his head off.
TW: Oh dear. What about Sophie? Sophie’s had her hand up for a while.
Sophie: My cousin, he’s in the Royal Navy and he has a girl in his team.
TW: Do you think that’s a good job for a girl.
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Sophie: Well, they might get hurt badly. Boy don’t, boys are a bit braver than girls
though.
Mick: The girls can have jobs in the Royal Navy.
Bobby: Yeah, like ______________.
Mick: Yeah. ‘Cause they can drive the ships or something.
TW: So if the girls are in the Royal Navy are they allowed to do the same jobs as
the boys in the Royal Navy?
Children: No.
TW: Because?
Sophie: They might get hurt, or they might do something wrong that the boys //
Bobby: The girls are usually the medic.
TW: What do you think about that Holly?
Rhianna: I think girls can do the same job only if the captain says.
TW: Only if the captain says?
Rhianna: Yes.
Jeremy: Well, they might have to swap a girl in to do it.
TW: So can girls only do it if the boys aren’t there to do it.
Jeremy, Bobby, Mick: Yeah
Mick: ‘Cause they always say girls aren’t as strong as boys, so //
Jeremy: So that’s///
Mick: So that means driving, doing operating, not using guns and stuff.
Bobby: Yeah, girls are better at driving than boys. Because mostly girls drive.
Mostly see girls driving in cars. Not boys.
TW: Ellie?
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Sophie: I know why girls are better than boys for driving. Because sometimes
boys like to speed, and girls just don’t speed.
The children were very vocal on the roles women could take in what they saw as
masculine professions, the circumstances under which they could perform those
roles, and what they saw as the hindrances to their success. They did not,
however, attempt to insert men into occupations traditionally viewed as women’s
work. It is therefore unclear whether they regarded these types of roles as
unsuitable for men, or if they felt that it was obvious that men are able to pursue
any career path they choose and so there is no point in having a discussion about
it.
When asked about their own future career choices, only Eliza expressed a desire
to have the same job as her father, but both of her parents were teachers. In fact,
three of the children wanted to become teachers (Mick, Jeremy and Eliza), the
same as their mothers, and Rhianna talked about her long term wish to become a
doctor, which was related to her mother training to become a midwife. Aside from
this, three of the girls wanted to be hairdressers (either because they enjoyed
having their hair done or because they knew someone who was a hairdresser),
Charlotte wanted to be a vet and Rosetta a gymnast, in contrast to the boys who
wanted to work for the police, become builders, footballers and, in Matty’s, case
become a vicar (but only if ‘building’ did not work out).
It is striking that while these groups of children asserted that girls and boys, women
and men, are equally capable and can choose their own career paths, they chose
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not to break with gender prescribed roles in their future career aspirations.
Granted, some of the career choices were slightly unusual, but none would raise
an eyebrow among the bulk of traditionalists.
6.4 Policing the playground
An awareness of family structure and how this feeds into children’s understanding
of relationships and the constructions of gender identity are significant in the
formulation of an effective SRE curriculum. However, children not only experience
relationships within their families, nor is it the only site where children’s gender
and sexual identities are constituted. School is an important arena for children to
develop their identities and to perform different versions of masculinity or
femininity depending on the immediate context. Indeed, in my experience, parents
often comment that their child behaves completely differently at home than school:
perhaps at school they are quiet, compliant and passive, while at home they are
energetic, difficult to manage and defiant (or vice versa). Little wonder then that
children actively construct and perform, both in the classroom and on the
playground or sports field, identities that sometimes lack apparent consistency.
Within the school, the playground is a particularly important site for children to
develop perform and construct their gendered and sexual identities. As Thorne
explains (1993:27) playgrounds are ‘set up to maximise the surveillance of
students,’ but they are also a site where many children gather together in a
relatively undirected manner and are most likely to be able to select their
playmates and games with a relative degree of freedom. This was particularly the
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case at BCP during the short morning and afternoon breaks when four classes of
children would occupy the playground but with only one teacher on duty.
In all but one school where I have previously worked there has been a significant
area of the playground that has been dominated by football, that one exception
being a school where balls were banned. In one school, as in Epstein et al’s (2001)
study of Bellevue Primary School, a large part of the playground was cordoned off
with a ‘cage’ where football could be played. Year groups were allowed to use this
on a rota-basis, ensuring the game did not take over the whole space. However,
unlike Bellevue where Fridays were allocated to girls of all year groups, in this
instance only boys ever entered the cage. Even in the absence of a ball, a game
would often break out with boys using toys, stones or pieces of wood in its place.
Although there was no cage, BCP was no exception to this pattern, with a painted
football pitch occupying about a third of the playground. Despite this, and the fact
that only a small proportion of the boys (no girls) usually participated, the game
would often spread out to other parts of the playground with non-footballers
unwillingly caught up in chases and tackles. The tendency of the game to engulf
the playground and the conflicts that often emerged as a result of “fouls” meant
that teachers, and more particularly the dinner supervisors who regularly
complained about the boys’ behaviour, often had little patience with players.
However, no real moves were made to protect the playground from being overrun
with footballers.
As in many schools, the footballers occupied a space in the playground
disproportionate to their numbers (Clark and Peachter 2007a, 2007b; Epstein et
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al 2001; Holly 1985; Renold 1997). Clark and Paechter (2007), in their study of
Year 5 and 6 children’s engagement with playground football, describe how girls
would sometimes complain about the space taken up by the footballers and, in
some instances, invade the pitch to disrupt games. Those girls who did attempt to
join in would often be effectively barred from doing so because boys refused to
treat them as proper players.
At BCP, non-footballing children stayed off the pitch and any stray footballs and
players were given a wide berth. In fact, the area of the playground where a
physical power struggle was most likely to occur was on the bars, where only two
children at a time could play and the refusal to take turns often led to arguments
and pushing, usually among the girls, and calls for the teacher on duty to
intervene. However, the de facto zoning of the playground did mean that girls and
the many non-footballing bystanders were effectively excluded from a large area
of physical space. Thus, the footballers exerted a territorial control over the
playground that far outweighed their number.
None of the children in the focus groups identified themselves as break-time
footballers, even though a number of them attended after-school and weekend
football clubs. Some of the boys even played for the school team along with the
break-time footballers and, as with the boys in Connolly’s (1998) study of boys in
an inner-city primary school, had their successes celebrated in assemblies in front
of the whole school. These children did not complain about the amount of football
played at break-times and the way it encroached upon their own games. Rather
they seemed to accept the situation and settled for using the rest of the playground
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space for their games. They did, however, associate fighting with playground
footballers. It was not football that they tried to avoid but footballers, whatever their
game.
Bobby: And some boys. Well a lot of boys, in my class//
Jeremy: Play football.
Bobby: In my class, fight a lot.
TW: And the girls don’t?
Bobby: Yeah. ‘Cause there’s two really naughty boys: Zach and Paddy. They
usually like to fight.
Mick: I never fight, ‘cause I don’t think it’s nice. ‘Cause everyone gets hurt. But I
did play this one game, but it didn’t, it was like a police game. And we had the
police who were the good guys, and we had gangsters that we had to catch. Were
you playing once Bobby?
Jeremy: I was.
Bobby: Yes. I was a gangster. No, I was a police, wasn’t I?
Mick: Yeah. I was a police as well. Then we had lots of. We had Howard, Leon//
TW: Sophie said she was a robber.
Mick: Yeah, but, then it was a really hot day. And Colin quit because it was a
really hot day. And he got hurt by Howard in the game.
Bobby: Howard was a gangster.
Mick: Then it became worse, didn’t it Bobby. Where Steven changed the rules
and started to, killing everyone. And started fighting.
Bobby: And started dragging everyone on the grass. And started hitting people.
TW: But the girls and boys were all playing together?
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Mick: Yeah. And I said. And I trusted them. I said, “Can I trust you won’t fight?”
And they said, “Yes.” And, erm, ‘cause it became really hot. And I was, like, I still
want to play. And then they started getting guns out and killing everyone. And then
they started punching people, didn’t they? And then, like, me, Rihanna, Bobby and
Jeremy and Sophie started quitting and walking off.
Jeremy: Yeah, I didn’t even say, “quit”. I just walked off.
Sophie: And we just played a game all together.
Mick: Well didn’t you and me and Colin and Rosetta and Nick and Rhianna go
and sit under the shade and do absolutely nothing?
Jeremy: Oh. I did that as well.
Mick: Yeah. We just sat there talking.
Jeremy: Yeah. We just sat there talking.
Mick: While we watched them punching and dragging and everything.
The fighting boys maintained their hold over the playground through football and
aggressive play. By occupying the physical space, they dominated those boys
who occupied non-hegemonic forms of masculinity and the girls. They also
restricted the options for those who did not join in their rough play: Mick and his
friends resorted to doing ‘absolutely nothing’ on this occasion.
It is interesting that Bobby sought to distance himself from the ‘naughty boys’ in
his class; he could often be observed playing and fighting with them. Despite
Bobby’s obvious reframing of his position, none of the other children chose to
challenge his initial depiction of his relationship to the fighters. Possibly, he was
very aware of the context of the discussion and that I, as a teacher, might
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disapprove of his involvement with this group of boys. It might also be the case
that in this context he saw no need to align himself with the naughty boys and their
behaviours; after all these were rejected by the other children in this discussion.
Bobby’s friendship with the footballers was potentially important, however. He was
the son of one of the teachers and performed well in academic work. As Renold
(2001: 372) points out, boys who appear to be hardworking and compliant are
often subject ‘to verbal abuse and ridicule, and are positioned daily as ‘swots’,
‘geeks’, ‘nerds’ and ‘squares’’ (2001: 372). However, Bobby managed to occupy
a dominant position among the children in Year 2. In a similar manner to 12-13
year old high attaining pupils examined by Francis, Skelton and Read (2010),
Bobby protected his position in a number of ways. He was very sociable and often
off task in the classroom, which meant he drew the attention of his teachers and
other children. As noted by his mother, Mrs Old, he sometimes used misogynistic
and homophobic language to assert himself. He also frequently joined the
playground footballers. Francis, Skelton and Read argue that children like Bobby
are ‘engaged in constant and perhaps arduous identity work’ (2010: 335). They
give the appearance of ‘effortless’ achievement, they disrupt lessons but at a fairly
low level and associate with those children who are likely to find themselves in
more serious trouble for their poor academic performance and challenging
behaviour. They walk a fine line to avoid being marginalised or tormented by other
children, evade serious school censure and still do well academically while making
it seem that they do not have to work for their achievements.
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Studies of children’s play have repeatedly shown that they have a tendency to
play in single-sex groupings (Clark and Paechter 2007; Epstein et al 2001; Jordan
1995; Martin et al 1999; McGuffey and Rich 1999; Paley 1984; Renold 1997;
Thorne 1983). The children in this study could often be seen playing in groups of
boys and girls, girls only and boys only groups, but almost all the children
expressed a preference for playing with their own gender (the exceptions being
Rihanna, Alan, Nick and Mick). The reason they gave for this was most often
related to girls’ and boys’ play preferences; as Martin et al (1999: 755) point out,
these perceived preferences then ‘influence . . . playmate choices’.
Eliza: It doesn’t matter, but I’d rather play with girls.
TW: You’d rather play with girls. So why is that? That you’d rather play with girls?
Eliza: Because I’m a girl and they play more girly games.
TW: They play more girly games, like what games do they play?
Eliza: They play princesses. Like Disney ones or made up ones.
TW: And you like playing princesses.
Eliza: Yes. And they play --- fairies.
Only Matty and Christopher from Year 1 were initially adamant that they did not
want to play with girls. Although Matty’s mother had spoken about his
determination to keep his love of Tangled (2010) a secret, at no time was there
any suggestion that either feared censure if they were to choose to play in mixedgender groupings (Martin et al 1999). In fact, at other points in the interviews, both
Matty and Christopher went on to list girls with whom they enjoyed playing. There
reasoning seemed to be that they enjoyed the activities they associated with
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single-gender play. Matty explained, ‘I like playing with boys ‘cause I’m a boy . . .
I like playing boys’ games’, and Christopher added that this was because ‘They
[boys] play good games’. In each group the children decided that some games
were more suitable for boys, some for girls and some appropriate for both.
Mick: ‘Cause we are, ‘cause we play some games different. ‘Cause we play
fighting. But girls, but girls do like Barbie princesses and stuff. But then there’s in
the middle’ There’s, like, babies and tag and all that kind of stuff.
Ultimately the groups all agreed that any game was open to and could be enjoyed
by both girls and boys.
Some games, particularly fantasy role-play games, often had elaborate “rules” or
conventions that prescribed the roles of both girls and boys. Some children
indicated that fantasy games like “fairies and princesses” (Emily) and “babies”
(Charlotte) were exclusively girls’ games, even though a number of the boys said
they liked to play babies with the girls. When this happened, they explained, the
boys were usually the babies with the girls taking the nurturing roles of mother,
sister or grandmother. The exception to this was Alan, who explained that he liked
to play the role of ‘funny grandma’. Alan seemed to manage this role by drawing
upon his classroom position as “joker”; his grandma was always played for
comedy, thus insulating him from being positioned as feminine and losing his boy
status.
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One popular fantasy role-play game on the playground was “ice monsters.” At
first, the Year 1 boys explained that ice monsters was an exclusively boys’ game.
This was the case until Eliza, one of the most popular Year 1 girls, pointed out that
the girls would also play ice monsters but that when they did so the game was
called “princess ice monsters”. There then followed a discussion of how the game
was played when both girls and boys were involved:
Eliza: Because I’m the princess.
John: Aaron’s the ice monster.
Eliza: And he wants the princess.
TW: Who’s the ice monster?
Eliza: Aaron. And he wants the princess, he tries to freeze me. If he touches me
he freezes me and I die. So ---//
John: And I have to be a king.
TW: You’re a king?
Eliza: And the king has got to bring a guard and they help me.
John: Yeah.
TW: And are you always the princess, Eliza?
Eliza: Yes.
TW: And is that your favourite?
John: Or if there’s another girl//
Eliza: Yes. Because there’s no other girls there.
John: There can be two kings.
TW: Two kings.
John: Or maybe three, actually.
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Eliza: There can’t be a queen, can there?
John: Yeah.
TW: Why can’t there be a queen, Eliza?
Eliza: Because we don’t know what a queen could do.
TW: Okay//
Eliza: Because I think it’s a bit dangerous for the ice monster with a queen.
TW: You think it would be too dangerous for the ice monster with a queen?
Eliza: Yes. The ice monster might get the queen.
TW: You think the ice monster might get the queen? But not the king?
Eliza: No, because he’s a grow- up man.
TW: He’s a grown-up man. But isn’t the queen a grown-up?
EG: Yes, but he’s a man. He’s better at --- he’s braver, and he’s better at fighting.
Here masculine / feminine boundaries were clearly policed. A girl, or girls, could
take part, but had to remain relatively passive, usually waiting to be rescued,
whereas all the boys in the game took a “warrior” role at some level, be they kings,
soldiers or the ice monster (see Jordan 1995). While William was open to the
possibility of more than one girl taking part in the game, for Eliza, in particular, it
also seemed important that she was the only significant girl in the game.
John was willing to accept the presence of other girls as part of the game (‘If
there’s another girl’), but Eliza cut him off with her determined statement: ‘Because
no other girls are there’. Eliza’s effective barring of other girls from the game and
positioning herself as “princess” put her at the very centre of what was,
fundamentally, the boys’ game. Rather than supporting the inclusion of other girls,
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Eliza’s exclusionary discourse served a number of possible functions. As in Hey’s
(1997) study of girls’ friendship groups, the ability to include or exclude other girls,
to control access to the game, afforded Eliza some power among her girl friends.
This might mean that Eliza positioned herself as masculine, but this seems not to
be the case. Indeed, in this instance, she conforms more closely to Connell’s
(1987, 1995) concept of emphasised femininity than Paechter’s (2018) hegemonic
femininity. Within the game’s narrative she is positioned as powerless, the focus
of the male gaze. She needs a male ‘guard to help her’ and will die if touched by
the male ice monster. She is an aspirational figure for other girls but at the same
time reaffirms traditional gender power relations.
Caitlin Ryan’s (2016) ethnographic study focused on heterosexuality in
elementary schools. In this she identified that heteronormativity was reinforced in
two ways: ‘(1) the explicit disparaging of queer-inclusive sexualities and (2) the
consistent positioning of straight heterosexualities as common sense, which
implicitly silences other perspectives’ (Ryan 2016: 78). In their social interactions,
children would angrily distance themselves from homosexuality and same-sex
relationships and located other children as gay or lesbian in order to dominate
them. At other times in children’s social interactions, for example in play and
collaborative classroom activities, they would enact and write about heterosexual
romantic relationships and families in a way that excluded the possibility of
alternative gender and sexual identities.
In the children’s focus group discussions, there was no suggestion of the
denigration of LGBT+ identities among KS1 children at BCP. This is perhaps
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unsurprising, as they were unlikely to admit to engaging in such behaviour in front
of a teacher, or to being subjected to these kinds of attacks in front of other
children. Nonetheless, there was a recognition of this type of behaviour in the
teachers’ and parents’ groups. However, the children’s fantasy and family-based
role-play games were all scripted, by the absence of an alternative, to exclude the
possibility of anything but heteronormative identities. There was no need for most
children to actively voice homophobia in these situations to ensure that
heterosexuality was reinscribed through play to the potential detriment of LGBT+
identities.
As well as rejecting the playground footballers for their rough play and fighting,
these children were at least tolerant of those who transgressed some of the more
prevalent gender norms of the playground. Both Jeremy in Year 2 and William in
Year 1 failed to fit into dominant groups either in the classroom or on the
playground. Neither of these boys were footballers, on the playground or
elsewhere. Jeremy could often be seen playing at the periphery of the playground
with a small group of girls. However, sometimes the girls cast him out of their
group due to his insistence on touching and hugging them, and his occasional
offensive comments. For example, on one occasion a group of girls were upset by
him telling one of their group that he would take her into the bushes and take her
clothes off. This type of behaviour might well be regarded as an attempt to reaffirm
his masculine identity.
Primary school boys’ sexually harassing behaviours have been explored by a
number of authors, sometimes identifying the important intersection of gender,
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ethnicity, class and masculine status (Connolly 1995; Skelton 2001; Renold 2005).
Renold (2005), for example, suggests that for the KS2 boys in her study there
were dangers in associating themselves with girls as this could lead them to be
positioned as feminine. Even though ‘being a boyfriend’ could enhance boys’
masculine status, this denigration often occurred when boys were making their
first forays into the world of heterosexual romantic relationships, or when there
was an absence of other boys in the group who had already started ‘going out’
(Renold 2005: 121). These boys sometimes engaged in misogynistic behaviour in
order to reassert their masculine status among their male peers and exert their
dominance over girls, thereby reinforcing gendered power relations.
At BCP the dynamics of gender relations were slightly different. The boys who
took part in this study never expressed any worries about the consequences of
playing with girls. Perhaps their age was a factor here. Possibly, also, they were
insulated from being positioned as feminine because the mixed-gender groups
they played in were either numerically dominated by boys or consisted of a small
number of boys coming together with a small number of girls: there was safety in
numbers. The potential threat in Jeremy’s case was that he was a lone boy playing
with a small group of girls and at the margins of the boys’ play. This might have
caused him to act aggressively in order to set him apart from the girls and to
reinforce his masculine identity.
Like Jeremy, William was often at the periphery, and could be observed playing
or bickering with his brother or attempting to join groups of girls. On one occasion
William brought his favourite My Little Pony (bright pink with a purple, sparkly
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mane) to school to show to the rest of the class. Unlike Jeremy, however, he did
not seem to harass the girls or make misogynistic comments. William did not
replicate dominant gender norms and could be seen as something of a ‘gender
misfit’ (Renold 2002: 426), which might have laid him open to being positioned as
feminine or gay.
Despite troubling the dominant performances of masculinity within their classes,
during the focus group meetings neither of these boys expressed any difficulties
with forming friendships or joining the more popular children in play. However,
William’s mother had stated that her sons were teased in school for playing with
‘girls’ toys’. There were some indications that their gender performances did result
in other children, at the very least, distancing themselves from the boys. For
example, some comments made by Jeremy indicated that he felt the need to
surreptitiously insert himself into games (‘I do that all the time. I sneak in, and they
don’t realise.’), to insist that he had been present when an incident had occurred,
when others claimed he had not, and discursively to place himself squarely in the
same group as the other children who took part in the focus groups. It would, after
all, be uncomfortable to admit publicly that other children did not actively want to
play with him. It seems that, while these boys were rarely sought out by others as
playmates they did not often suffer outright rejection either. This might well be
because they chose to attach themselves to other children who were unlikely to
resist their presence. It is difficult to imagine anything but a negative outcome if
they had tried to insert themselves into the playground footballers’ games.
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The children’s choice of playmates at first seemed fairly clear-cut. Boys generally
expressed a preference for playing with boys, and girls with girls, but under the
surface of what children were saying the picture was far more complex. Choice of
playmates was dependent on a whole range of factors, and sometimes was not
really a choice at all. During focus group interviews, for example, the children
referred to the availability of games and who was playing them, acceptance by
other children, and the proximity and availability of friends. The role of parents in
the selection of friends was also significant. Furthermore, not all friendships were
the same, not all fulfilled the same function, and not all friendships were equally
valued.
Alan and Bobby claimed to prefer playing with boys, but both chose girls as their
“best friends”. Bobby’s best friends, Helen and Kirsty, went to BCP but were in
Year 4, so were not able to play with him at break-times (the school had separate
KS1 and KS2 playgrounds). Alan’s friends (Rachel and Vicki) were also in Year 2,
and he was so attached to them that they were included in his family drawing, yet
they too were not break-time playmates. None of these girls were part of the study
so it was impossible to know how they would have characterised their
relationships. The friendships that the two boys described were, in fact, based
upon a combination of proximity (the girls lived close by) and upon their parents’
friendships. Paechter and Clark (2016) describe how girls from opposing groups
in the primary school they attended were out-of-school playmates. Lucy, a ‘nice
girl’, and Chelsea, a ‘cool girl’, would go cycling together at the weekends. This
was, however, a friendship of convenience since they were the only KS2 girls in
the neighbourhood allowed out without adult supervision. In school, they reverted
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to their combative group roles. However, unlike the girls in Paechter and Clark’s
(2016) study of girls’ friendship groups, Alan’s affection for Vicki and Rachel and
Bobby’s for Helen and Kirsty was constructed as genuine.
Rachel and Vicki lived across the road from Alan and the children spent time at
each other’s houses, sometimes playing independently, sometimes spending time
with their parents. Bobby’s and his friends’ parents were so close that the families
would even spend holidays together and the children were regular visitors to each
others’ homes. Although the girls were very much out-of-school playmates, there
was no disavowal of the friendships in school. The boys were very happy to talk
to and about the girls, often sharing tales of their weekend exploits during “show
and tell” time.
While parents can promote friendships, they might also inhibit or curtail them
altogether, as Jeremy explained:
Jeremy: Yeah, but I don’t go out. My mum won’t let me. I ask her if I can maybe
go and see, do you know Kylie in your old class? She lives on my estate.
TW: Kylie and her brother Jack, is that who you mean?
Jeremy: Yeah. And they always go past my house, and I ask my mum if I can, if
I could go out. And she says, “No, it’s too dangerous.”
Jeremy’s mother may not have allowed him to play out with Kylie and Jack
because she felt that the area was too dangerous for him to be out on the street,
or perhaps she felt these children were unsuitable friends. The actual reason is
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irrelevant in the sense that whatever the motivation, it resulted in Jeremy’s mother
rather than Jeremy himself controlling his friendships and the space in which he
played (see Furedi 2002; Pain 2006). Once he was out of the school gates she
decided with whom he could spend time.
In July 2013, Katie Hopkins, former contestant on The Apprentice and newspaper
columnist, appeared on the television programme, This Morning, to talk about the
ways in which she regulated her own children’s friendships. The views expressed
by Hopkins were attacked by presenter Holly Willoughby and Hopkin’s fellow
interviewee author Anna May Mangan as ‘terrible’, extraordinary’ and ‘sneering’.
Hopkins explained that when she thinks about her children’s classmates: ‘A name,
for me, is a short cut. It’s a very efficient way of working out what class that child
comes from: do I want my children to play with them.’ She went on: ‘I tend to think
children that have intelligent names tend to have fairly intelligent parents; and they
make much better playmates, therefore, for my children.’ Her argument was that
assumptions could be made about the suitability of children to be friends with her
own offspring based solely on names for these could be taken as an indicator of
family values including the likelihood of children completing homework on time or
being punctual at school. Hopkins claimed that such attitudes were not uncommon
among the parents to whom she had spoken.
Although this may be seen as an extreme, irrational or offensive notion to many
(91% of viewers who responded to a This Morning poll on the subject disagreed
with Hopkins), children’s social lives outside of school are frequently regulated by
their parents (Battersby 2013: n.p.). Indeed, on a number of occasions I have been
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asked by parents to prevent their child playing or sitting with another girl or boy for
a variety of reasons, including that they felt the other child would get their daughter
or son into trouble, that the parents were engaged in some kind of a feud or that
the other child would upset their offspring in some way. In general, however, it is
likely that school is the one place where many children are free to choose their
own companions.
Children who took part in the focus groups often spoke of two distinct groups of
friends: one group that they played with at school, another outside. An exception
to this was a group of girls made up of Charlotte, Sophie, Karen and Rosetta.
Rosetta’s mother would often pick up some or all these girls to have tea, play and
have occasional sleepovers. They could often be seen playing together in the
playground and they would regularly interact with the group of “smart boys” that
featured Mick and Colin. Other children would drift in and out of these two groups,
but at the core were these six Year 2 children who had been in the same class
since nursery.
This small group of children would chase each other around the playground.
However, this was not usually ‘boys-chase-girls/ girls-chase-the-boys’ games;
they were not setting themselves up as ‘separate and opposing’ groups, as
described by Thorne (1993). These children chasing games were of tag and duck
duck goose. This is not to say that girls versus boys games of chase did not take
place on the playground, nor that these children did not take part.
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There clearly was a gender divide in the group. As noted above, the girls would
play together out of school, often facilitated by their parents, and sometimes leave
the boys to go and play on the bars. Likewise, the boys would sometimes abandon
the girls in favour of joining other boys in, for example, fantasy role-play games.
Rather, it was the case that when this small group came together the nature of
their play was not obviously divided along the lines of gender in the same way as
described by Thorne (1993). They would often also play cooperatively. For
example, following one PSHE lessons which focused on ways to relax, members
of this group of girls and boys were observed administering massages to each
other in turn on the playground.
When these children came together, the
borderwork took place through talk rather than action. It was the subject of
girlfriends and boyfriends, who “liked” whom, that would lead to teasing and,
sometimes, brief fallings-out.
6.5 Building a heterosexual identity: girlfriends and boyfriends
In contrast to the Year 2 boys in Skelton’s (2001a) examination of masculinity in
primary schools, these children made a clear distinction between friends who were
girls or boys and girl / boyfriends. Like the children in Renold’s (2005) exploration
of KS2 children’s gender and sexuality, it was extremely unusual for those who
considered themselves “going out” to meet out of school. The playground was the
social site where they conducted their relationships, and even there it would be
easy for casual onlookers to overlook these.
Some of the children talked about having or wanting girl / boyfriends and what this
meant to them. These relationships were always firmly located within a
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heterosexist narrative. Early in the conversation Matty, one of the two boys who
had stated he did not want to play with girls, had indicated that he had multiple
girlfriends. We returned to this subject later in the discussion:
TW: Tell me about your girlfriends Matty.
Matty: My two ones are Mellie and Ava.
TW: So are they your girlfriends or friends that are girls?
Matty: Girlfriends.
TW: So how do we know they’re your girlfriends – what makes them different from
friends that are girls?
Matty: Erm.
Eliza: You kiss them.
TW: You kiss them? Have you kissed Mellie and Ava?
Matty: I haven’t kissed Mellie yet, but I have kissed Ava. And I want to kiss Nicole.
TW: You want to kiss Nicole as well, do you?
Matty: I have once kissed Nicole.
TW: And what did Nicole think about that?
Matty: Because Alfie begged and all that stuff.
TW: What did Alfie do?
Matty: Alfie was begging us to, so we just done it.
TW: So you just did it because he kept begging.
What about the rest of you? Eliza?
Eliza: Kyle kissed me once.
TW: Who?
Eliza: Kyle Foster kissed me once.
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TW: Did he? And what did you think about that?
Eliza: ???
TW: He’s you boyfriend is he – Kyle Foster?
Eliza: Yes. Like Travis and Paddy.
TW: Like Travis and Paddy. And have they tried to kiss you as well?
Eliza: ???
TW: So what do you think about having a boyfriend Erin?
Eliza: I don’t think . . . Well, I want to keep it private, like just acting like we’re
friends, but we’re not. We’re boyfriend and girlfriend. ‘Cause I don’t want people
thinking we’re girlfriend and boyfriend, ‘cause I just don’t like it – then they’ll tell
everyone.
TW: Would you be embarrassed?
Eliza: Yes.
TW: Why would you be embarrassed?
Eliza: Because.
TW: Is it just because it’s private?
Eliza: Because we’re in love.
Despite Eliza’s assertion of embarrassment, these children might be viewed as
early entrants to what Kehily (2002: 66) has described as a ‘sexual economy
where features such as physical attractiveness, desirability and status are
commodified and played out in rituals of dating and dumping’. Alfie’s role here
(‘begging’ Matty and Nicole to kiss) is also important as a facilitator of other
children’s romantic interactions. Alfie’s reported actions allow Matty to inhabit an
aspect of hegemonic masculinity in which he is simultaneously positioned as
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desirable, or “boyfriend material”, while also distancing himself from a position of
desperation. Furthermore, he only kissed Nicole because his same-sex friend
begged him, allowing him to reap benefits of privileging same-sex friendships over
girlfriends, while publicly affirming his heterosexual identity.
For Matty, positioning himself as boyfriend while simultaneously rhetorically
rejecting girls as playmates potentially insulated him from marginalisation and
gender-based bullying. In a similar way to boys in Renold’s (2004) research
focused on Year 6 children, these utterances and actions enabled him to eschew
some of the most obvious characteristics of hegemonic masculinity. Matty only
infrequently joined games of playground football, was hardworking and stuck to
school rules, all of which might have made him an easy target for dominant boys
(particularly if they had known about his enjoyment of girls’ entertainment). Unlike
the boys described by Renold, it was not the case that Matty was ‘doing Other’,
which Renold defines as ‘ways in which ‘hegemonic boys’ could engage with or
try on Other non-hegemonic masculinities without penalty’ (Renold 2004: 253). In
Matty’s case it seemed that most of the time he could do boy in such a way as to
avoid the attention of those who might take exception to his non-hegemonic
performances by straying into hegemonic boy territory. As such, Matty’s ways of
doing boy did not present a threat to the gender and sexual relations experienced
by the children who took part in this study.
For these Year 1 children, having or desiring multiple partners was unproblematic
and although girlfriend-boyfriend relationships were generally described in terms
of what the children would do together (play, kiss, go on holiday, eat out) both girls
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and boys also talked in terms of friendship and romance. Like Eliza, Bobby in Year
2 described his desire for a girlfriend in romantic terms.
Bobby: It’s actually really nice, ‘cause if you can’t find a different girl and you want
to get married, you can just get married to that girl.
He went on to explain that he would like Polly to be his girlfriend ‘because she’s
really nice to me.’ Bobby also took cues from popular culture, taking tips on
relationships from magazines and using idealised depictions of romantic life from
television programmes as frames of reference.
Bobby: Yeah. In this magazine it said if she picks something up for you then
that’ll be friends. And if they hold your hand then he wants to be boyfriend.
TW: Okay. Sophie?
Sophie: Erm. I saw a boy and girl sitting on a curb and they might have been
boyfriend and girlfriend.
Bobby: Because, on this TV show there’s someone called Tony and there’s
someone called Jessie7, and Tony loves Jessie.
Bobby’s attitude was quite unlike that of older boys described by Renold (2006).
These boys both welcomed the status that could come with being a boyfriend in
7
A Disney Channel production about a teenaged nanny living in New York. Jessie,
played by Debby Ryan, is an extremely glamorous girl from Texas who has moved to
New York to become an actor on Broadway, but earns her living as nanny to a rich
family with adopted children from a variety of ethnic backgrounds. Tony is the doorman
at the family’s apartment.
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that it confirmed their heterosexual masculinity, but also feared romantic
relationships as potentially feminising.
Although most girl / boyfriend pairings were quite brief, and sometimes involved
multiple partners, some of the children did have longstanding and intense
friendships. A few even considered themselves to be in serious romantic
relationships with another child. Some children had very intense friendships that
dated back to when they first started school and that could easily move into the
realm of “romantic” relationships. On the other hand, Charlotte thought that having
a boyfriend would be ‘horrible’ and Sophie explained that she did not want a
boyfriend until she went ‘to college’, but both girls spent most of their break-times
with Karen and Mick and knew every detail of their friends’ long-term relationship.
6.4.1 Rihanna, Nick and Alan
The dynamics of Nick, Alan and Rhianna’s friendship illustrates many of those
issues that define young children’s relationships both in and out of school.
Since Nursery School Rihanna, Nick and Alan had been practically inseparable.
Even in lessons they would gravitate toward each other whenever possible, and
at break-times the three could almost always be seen playing together, often
rebuffing others who wanted to join their games. Indeed, this small group had
come to be seen by both parents and teachers as something of “a handful” when
they were together, parents often warning teachers that they should be kept apart
in class and commenting that they found the three difficult to handle when
together. While they undeniably had a close relationship, what became clear, from
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speaking to Rihanna, was that although she regarded Nick and Alan as her ‘best
friends’, her perception of their relationship was not all rosy. She intimated that the
boys often had the upper-hand in their games.
Rhianna: Well, I normally just play whatever they want to play, like trains and
babies.
Mick also claimed that he sometimes played with Rhianna when Nick and Alan
were ‘mean’ to her. Best (1983: 113) has identified a tendency of the elementary
school boys she observed to tease and hit the girls they chased. Although Nick
and Alan did tease Rihanna, they did not resort to hitting. They frequently stole
her scarf or hat. She would then chase the boys throughout playtime, struggling
to get her things back. Despite this, Rihanna rarely complained about the boys’
behaviour, only expressing her dissatisfaction if they failed to return her property
at lining-up time. It seemed that this was all part of the play. As with many girlschase-boys / boys-chase-girls games I frequently witnessed on the playground,
rather than undermining gender difference, Rihanna, Alan and Nick’s play often
reinforced and highlighted gender difference and separation; these children were
engaged in borderwork (Thorne 1993).
For birthday treats, the three would go to the cinema, for pizza or bowling together,
with Nick and Alan’s parents acting as supervisors. However, it was rare for
Rihanna to be included in more general out of school play. Her mother was not
particularly friendly with the boys’ parents and Nick, like Alan and Bobby, usually
based his out of school friendships around children of his parents’ friends.
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During our focus group sessions Nick talked about his best / girlfriend Jenny, the
daughter of close friends of his parents. He explained that he and Jenny were
going on holiday together and that they had been on holiday previously to
Disneyland:
Nick: . . . I’m going with her on holiday this weekend. And we’re going to stay
there only for two nights, and we’re going to stay in a caravan together. And I’m
hoping me and Jenny will sleep in the room together. Because when we went to
Disneyland together, we went to Paris first and we slept in the same bed together.
And when we went Disneyland we were in different rooms but next to each other.
And we both had bunk beds and we, and I slept in the top bunk and Jenny slept
on the bottom bunk in her bedroom.
Later, Nick explained why he regarded Jenny as his girlfriend, reflecting the
children’s understanding of what it means to have a girlfriend or boyfriend. He
referred to activities undertaken with his parents:
Nick: . . . we don’t really see her a lot because she lives a long way from us: she
lives in _______. And erm, she sometimes, like, goes out with us on holiday. And
she, we go ‘round houses and have tea, and the grown-ups get holidays when
they ‘phone each other, and sometimes we go round Jenny’s house and we get a
buffet together.
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It also emerged that the three children’s longstanding friendship had possibly
developed into something of an unrequited love triangle. Following Nick’s
declarations about Jenny, I asked if the other children in his group would like to
have girlfriends or boyfriends:
Alan: I wouldn’t.
Nick: Alan’s already got one.
Alan: No I haven’t!
Nick: Rihanna.
Alan: No.
Alan’s response was sharp and emphatic. He wanted to make it absolutely clear
that he did not want a girlfriend and that he was not Rihanna’s boyfriend. Alan’s
determination to distance himself from the possibility of having a girlfriend might
also be read as distancing himself from the emotional or feminine. On the other
hand, Rihanna was obviously upset when she talked about Jenny and Nick.
Rhianna: I would like Nick for a boyfriend, but he says there’s a special key for
him and Jenny to open a lock. That’s why he won’t do it.
These complicated dynamics could go some way to explain the pattern and
persistence of the group’s play, which had become almost ritualised by Year 2. As
Thorne (1983: 81) explains: ‘The ambiguities of borderwork allow the signalling of
sexual or romantic, as well as aggressive meanings, and the two often mix
together.’ The tension between ‘pleasure’ and physical and verbal ‘harassment’
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has been identified in a number of other studies of children’s heterosexual
interactions that also potentially establish a formula for future relationships (Best
1983; Thorne 1998; Renold 2005: 115; Skelton 2001). Despite these
complications and tensions the three remained firm friends throughout the year.
6.4.2 Mick and Karen
Karen and Mick sitting up a tree
K-I-S-S-I-N-G.
First comes love.
Second comes marriage.
Then comes a baby in a golden carriage.8
Unlike the other children in the study, Mick and Karen were two children who had
a well-established and widely acknowledged girlfriend-boyfriend relationship. The
pair had gained much status from their position as the class’s “golden couple”.
Although Karen was sometimes teased on the playground by her friends because
she was “in love” with Mick, the other girls also often spoke with a good deal of
respect about their relationship. Mick frequently announced that Karen was his
girlfriend to anyone within earshot, one day, for example, proudly announcing that
instead of buying her a birthday card saying: ‘You are 7’, he had bought a card
with the words: ‘To my girlfriend’ across the front. However, by the time of the
focus group interviews their relationship had begun to go downhill. During our
8
Rosetta and Sophie changed the names from Rapunzel and Flynne to Karen and Mick to
create their own playground chant which they performed for my benefit.
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interviews, Mick was still quick to point out that he and Karen were girlfriend and
boyfriend.
Mick: We have a live girlfriend and boyfriend film here.
TW: You and . . . ?
Mick: Karen.
TW: So how long have you two been boyfriend and girlfriend?
Mick: Since, I think it was about . . . I started saying, “I love you” about November.
And I gave her a Valentine’s card on this Valentine’s//
Sophie: Yeah, you did.
Mick: I know. And some chocolates.
TW: So what makes you want to be Karen’s boyfriend then?
Mick: Erm, I’m not really sure. It’s just, there’s no other girl like her.
Unlike the relationship dynamics among the KS1 children described by Connolly
(1998), Mick and Karen’s boyfriend-girlfriend status was well established and well
regarded among their peers. Especially for the girls, the pair seemed to act as a
proxy for their hetero-romantic ideals. Due to Mick’s eagerness to share the
details, all the children in his class were aware of his relationship with Karen. For
example, Alan explained that he knew Mick and Karen were together because
Mick had done ‘something on PowerPoint, and he put a big love heart, and he put:
“To Karen from Mick” ’. Furthermore, their parents clearly took a hand in
supporting their relationship: Mick had not gone alone to the shop to buy Karen a
Valentine’s card and chocolates, nor had Karen managed to shop unaccompanied
for the card and teddy bear that she had given him. However, as Mick explained
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this support did not extend to ensuring they could see each other out of school: ‘I
live far away from school so we can’t go ‘round to each other’s houses.’ He went
on to consider what they would do if they could meet out of school: ‘Maybe we
could go ‘round to each other’s parks. But my park is bigger and it has a slide and
everything.’ In fact, they lived less than two miles apart from each other, close by
in adult terms but far enough away that the children would need to rely on their
parents to facilitate a visit. As with the older children in Renold’s (2005) study,
‘going out’ was a school-based activity.
Another clear difference between Karen and Mick and the children who took part
in Connolly’s (1998) study was the lack of sexual language and behaviour
associated with their pairing. Mick was quite different from Connolly’s five- and
six-year old ‘bad boys’, who bragged about the number of girlfriends they had, and
who used (sometimes violent) sexual language to describe what they had done or
wanted to do to the girls. Unerringly, Mick spoke of Karen with affection and
admiration.
The lack of sexualised language and the parental complicity in Mick and Karen’s
relationship did not mean that Mick failed to derive some of his masculine identity
from it. Many of the aspects of the way Mick would do boy would, in previous
studies, have marked him out to be positioned as Other by his peers (for example
see Francis, Skelton and Read 2010; Mac an Ghaill 1994; Renold 2006; Willis
1977). However, far from being bullied and teased he was, if not revered by the
other boys, at least well-liked and respected. Some of that respect was clearly
derived from his boyfriend status, which he exploited whenever possible.
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Later, however, Mick explained that life with Karen was not as stable as he first
indicated. It became clear that their relationship was under threat when Bobby
suggested that Karen had kissed Dev. As this was discussed further, Mick became
quite upset and defensive.
Sophie: There’s something going wrong with Karen, Dev and Mick. Karen can’t
choose which boyfriend to have --- . She wants Mick, then she wants Dev.
Mick: (upset) She wants me, because I gave her a Valentine’s card. I gave her
chocolates. Dev didn’t.
Dev, another boy from the class, epitomised hegemonic masculinity within the
school context. He was sociable, high attaining without working too hard, sporty
and physically imposing; he generally would not start a fight but was quick to
defend himself if he felt he had been wronged in some way.
Mick’s assertion that Karen must have wanted him because of what he gave her
shows obvious parallels with notions that women can be bought or are dependent
upon men’s generosity. In Mick’s case, it was clear from his tone that he was
genuinely puzzled that Karen could like Dev better than him, since he was so kind
to her. There was no hint in the conversation that Mick was prepared to do battle
for Karen or that he felt it in his power to control her. Rather, he was saddened
and mystified. This is in stark contrast to the boys in Keddie’s (2003: 295) study
of 7–8 year-old boys whom she portrays as perceiving girls as ‘property to fight
over, possess or collect and evaluate.’ Since neither Karen nor Dev took part in
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this study it is unclear how they saw themselves in this relationship. It is uncertain
how Dev would have responded had Mick determinedly acted to retain Karen as
his girlfriend. Karen’s feelings about Mick and Dev similarly went unexplored.
Here it can be seen that the children were performing and actively constructing
their gendered and sexual identities in small, often overlapping groups. Some of
these groups were very stable, as can be seen from Rihanna, Nick and Alan’s
friendship. However, children like Jeremy and William, seemed to have no stable
friendship groups and would often be at the margins of other children’s social
interactions. They occupied a precarious social position and were vulnerable to
rejection.
The boys in this study did not articulate concern that their masculine identities
would be undercut either by having a girl as a friend or by having a girlfriend or
girlfriends. In fact, Mick’s position as Karen’s boyfriend enhanced his status. The
only girls who participated in the study who expressed any interest in having
boyfriends were Rihanna and Eliza, who talked about being ‘in love’. Similarly,
some of the boys employed the discourses of romance and marriage when they
discussed potential girlfriends. All of the conversations were firmly rooted within a
heterosexual model, despite a number of children having close relationships with
LGBT+ family members and family friends. What was evident was the high degree
of emotional investment some of the children had in their relationships.
When considering curriculum content, therefore, it is important to acknowledge
that children’s girlfriend-boyfriend relationships are significant in the moment, not
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just something that will come in their more “grown-up” futures. SRE should
address these not only in terms of preparing children for their adult relationships
but also in terms of enabling them to manage their feelings and negotiate their
roles in relationships as they currently exist. It is also important that this provides
opportunities for children to explore and acknowledge the possibility of diverse
identities and relationships.
6.6 Conclusion
Throughout these interviews, what was evident was the emotional stock that
children placed upon all their relationships: parent-child, sibling, friends, boyfriendgirlfriend, those they had with pets and the deceased. They sought to make sense
of the world around them and were active in the construction of their own identities
within friendship and family groups. Like adults, their performance of femininity
and masculinity was inconsistent and sometimes contradictory.
Play behaviours (for example, children’s exclusionary practices, their games of
chase and the conventions of their role play games) served to ensure that
children’s gendered and sexual subjectivities were firmly delineated by and
located within the heterosexual matrix. The hierarchies that operated within
groups of girls and boys were not straightforward nor were they easy to negotiate.
Hegemonic boys – the break-time footballers – dominated the playground space
unchallenged by others. Boys who were able to call on some resources generally
associated with hegemonic masculinity without being part of that small group were
respected by others. On the whole, they were accepting, if not embracing, of
others who failed to conform to dominant versions of masculinity and femininity.
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On the playground children were usually able to choose their own friends and,
within school rules and with consideration for others, their own games. Outside of
school, personal choice was much more limited. Some children’s parents
deliberately regulated their sons’ and daughters’ friendships, deciding that certain
children or activities were unsuitable. On other occasions, children’s friendships
were tied-up with their parents’ relationships, as with Nick and Jenny. Simple
practicalities, like locality and availability of friends were also factors. The impact
of these restrictions is that children may experience friendship very differently
inside and outside the school gates, and on occasion may find these difficult to
reconcile.
The boys in this study did not use the extreme violent sexual language like that
employed by those in other studies (e.g. Connolly 1998). Most of the girls in this
study enjoyed the trappings of a girly-girl identity, saw pamper parties as fun, and
wanted to limit boys’ access to these. The children were trying to make sense of
a gendered and sexual world around them. They often reverted to stereotypes to
explain gender differences. Sometimes they tried to use reason to explore
contradictions in their own and others’ experiences, while on other occasions
merely accepted that what they were experiencing could not, for them at least, be
rationalised. Their assertions of gender equality were often qualified and they
tended toward more conventional choices of clothing, interests and careers.
Overall, however, there was a tendency to privilege the masculine.
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Romantic relationships were part of the children’s lives. I have referred to
girlfriend-boyfriend relationships as “romantic” because throughout the children’s
conversations children talked about ‘love’, ‘liking’, ‘being kind’ and marriage. Some
saw no issue with having multiple partners, others were much more attached to
particular boys or girls, and some rejected the idea of having a girlfriend or
boyfriend completely (for now, at least). Mick and Karen’s relationship helped to
bolster Mick’s masculine identity and possibly served as a surrogate for the
relationships that Karen’s Year 2 girlfriends rejected. Despite the fact that some
of the children’s parents had talked about LGBT+ relationships within their own
families and networks of friends and my care in asking about girlfriends and
boyfriends in a very open way, all of these children talked about romantic
relationships in purely heterosexual terms.
During the focus group sessions, the children showed themselves to be very
capable of engaging in critical thinking about gender and sexuality. They were
taking their first steps in questioning the world around them. Despite this ability to
recognise occasions when their experiences did not fit with stereotypical views of
the world, the children were unable to shake off heterosexist narratives that locate
masculine as the norm and feminine as lesser.
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Chapter 7: Discussion
It seemed that practically any girl who ever played on the bars in the playground
would at one time or another be subjected to harassment from the boys.
Sometimes they would suffer taunts and occasionally boys would pull the girls’
skirts over their heads as they used the play equipment. The girls usually seemed
resigned to this treatment, but sometimes they reached the end of their tether:
Penny and Amy were playing on the bars in the playground. As
they rolled over the top their skirts flew up to expose their
underwear. Each time they did so a small group of boys jeered and
called out, ‘We can see your knickers!’ Penny and Amy repeatedly
told the boys to leave them alone, but they persisted. Finally, Penny
burst into tears and the two girls ran to the on-looking dinner
supervisor wailing that the boys had been ‘dissing’ them.
7.1 Introduction
This chapter explores some convergence and divergence in experience and
opinion on the part of the adults who took part in this study. It also identifies areas
where these adults’ conception of children’s experiences, knowledge and
understanding of the world match or deviate from what the children in the study
were saying.
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Section 7.2 compares teachers’ and parents’ attitudes toward SRE. It explores
how their own experiences have informed their thinking and their feelings about
themselves as educators. In section 7.3 there is a comparison of parents’ reliance
on the discourse of childhood innocence with teachers’ views on children’s
maturity and the impact of these on conceptions of “appropriate” learning. These
views are then set against children’s knowledge and understanding and their
curiosity in the areas of sex and relationships.
Sections 7.4 and 7.5, interrogate conceptions of family and “romantic”
relationships and the extent to which these are, for both adults and children, firmly
rooted within the heterosexual matrix. This then leads into an examination of
gender stereotyping and heterosexism in section 7.6. The ways that these forces
counter teachers’ desire to provide a curriculum that promotes social justice are
also examined.
Finally, adults’ impulse to protect children from the dangers of the wider world and
the impact on children’s lived experience are explored in 7.7. Rather than these
parents presenting themselves as ‘paranoid’ what emerges is some regulation of
children’s lives but also some latitude in children’s access to the outside world and
the virtual world of the internet (Furedi 2002).
7.2 Comfort and confidence
Exploring the experiences and levels of confidence of adults revealed a high
degree of parity between the teachers and parents. As groups, they both exhibited
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some general uneasiness about their own roles in teaching children about sex and
relationships.
Throughout the sessions, parents often spoke of their trust in their children’s
teachers’ ability to provide information in a manner that was knowledge-rich and
developmentally appropriate. However, teachers frequently expressed a lack of
certainty about what and how information should be communicated. They spoke
of their lack of training, their desire for clear guidelines and for some support from
“experts” or more experienced professionals. This was an area where most of the
adults expressed a lack of faith in their own abilities and, sometimes, discomfort
at the thought of addressing sensitive topics with children.
In a similar way to participants in the parents’ focus groups, some of the teachers
confided their apprehension about sharing information with their own children. Mrs
Harvey explained that, ‘being a parent as well --- you don’t always know what to
say’. Like those in the parents’ groups, these anxieties often stemmed from their
own childhood experiences. Their professional status did not make these teachers
immune to the same unease faced by those who had no training as educators and
did not spend their working days with children.
Participation in the focus groups did prompt Mrs Brown to tackle a topic she had
previously avoided addressing with her daughter. She had initially been reluctant
to use the anatomically correct names for genitalia with Eliza, considering them to
be unsuitable for young children. However, following the first round of focus group
discussions, she decided to broach the subject.
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Mrs Brown: Well, since then [the previous focus group session] I talked about it
with Eliza . . . talked about the different parts and what the proper names are,
rather than our names for them. I’ve taken that step with her.
She went on to describe Eliza’s response:
Well, Eliza said, after we’d talked about the names for --- . She said, “Are they
naughty words?” And I said, “Well they’re not naughty words, Eliza, but they’re not
words you’d go ‘round saying all the time. It’s got to be within – have a reason for
saying it.”
A number of studies have demonstrated that children are often aware that asking
questions and talking about anything sexual is something they should avoid
(Davies and Robinson 2010; Frankham 2006; Milton 2003; Walker and Milton
2006). Eliza’s question, ‘Are they naughty words?’, indicates that she realised her
mother was sharing information that was problematic in some way. However,
beyond this, she reacted to being taught this new vocabulary much as she would
any other new piece of information. This surprised her mother, who had found
initiating the conversation somewhat nerve-wracking.
Teachers also voiced respect for parents’ rights and their ability to judge what was
suitable for their children. It was, in part, for this reason that all but Mrs Old
supported parents’ prerogative to withdraw their children from SRE. Some were
also looking at the issue from their own position as parents and how they felt about
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their own children’s education and wellbeing. There was also a strategic reason
for the acceptance of withdrawal. This would allow the school to decide on what
was going to be taught while the possibility of withdrawal would mitigate against
parents’ complaints.
As discussed above, Mrs Paxton felt that sex education should take place within
the family rather than the public space of the school. In part, at least, this was
driven by her religious convictions and a need to be sure that her children were
taught in line with her beliefs. Her objections were also firmly entrenched within
the discourse of childhood innocence. While the other parents did express similar
concerns that they did not what their children to learn too much at a young age,
they never suggested they would remove their children from lessons. Some of the
parents, like Mrs Thomas and Ms Knight, also recognised the precarious position
of teachers, and thought that school policies and the right to withdraw should help
to protect them. These parents wanted to work with the school to ensure that the
curriculum was “suitable”, and hoped that it would provide them with information,
in the same way as it offered maths and reading events for parents, to help them
support their children’s learning and prepare them for any questions that might
arise.
There was a parallel in the way the teachers and parents viewed the prospect of
teaching children about sex and relationships. Just as some parents (Mrs Gage,
Mrs Paxton, Mrs Friend, Mrs Winston) thought they would be embarrassed and
so were happy to hand over the bulk of the responsibility to teachers, a few of the
teachers (Miss Young, Miss Redfearne, Miss Peake and Mr Mayall) also feared
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embarrassment and that broaching some subjects might have a detrimental effect
on their relationship with pupils.
The principle that teachers act in loco parentis rings true here. Those teachers
who felt most confident to have conversations about sex and relationships with
their own children (Mrs Blake, Mr Marshall, Mrs Old and Mr Hall) tended also to
be those who were most happy to teach pupils SRE. It was also the case that for
those adults in the parents’ group who were also teachers (Mrs Kennedy and Mrs
Waites) there was a mirroring of the way that they dealt with their own children
and the way they expected to educate children in school. The exceptions were
Mrs Brown and Mrs Harvey who appeared far more at ease when acting in their
professional roles than when embarking on discussions with their own children. It
seemed that for these women the mantle of “teacher” gave them a sense of
distance and authority that made them feel more at ease in the context of the
classroom.
Mrs Paxton was not the only adult whose religious beliefs had an impact on the
way they viewed SRE. This was the root of Mr Heymann’s declaration that before
taking part in the focus groups he needed to make it clear that he did not want his
children to be taught about same-sex relationships. During the sessions, he
moved away from this position to one where he could see the value of this topic
being covered so long as he was kept informed about lesson content and
scheduling. This way he could balance the school’s input with further discussions
with his children in which he could put forward his faith perspective. This was
important in that he demonstrated an understanding that education should be
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concerned with what children need rather than what parents want. He also
appreciated that this was not just about preparing children for adulthood but
informing them about their current social worlds.
Among the teachers, Mrs Garrow explained how she ‘struggled’ with the idea of
teaching about same-sex relationships due to her Christian beliefs. In another
group, teachers reflected on how challenging it would be for those who might
disagree with the curriculum, the ways they might overcome their personal
discomfort and the problems associated with ensuring that all children received
the intended provision.
Lack of experience, training, adults’ childhood interactions with their own parents
and religious belief all had an impact on participants’ willingness to embark on
SRE with children, either in their role as teacher or parent. Also evident is the
mutual respect that teachers and parents had for each other, with parents viewing
the teachers as skilled professionals who had the best interest of their children at
heart and teachers respecting parents’ rights and responsibilities for their children.
Nevertheless, both teachers and parents also talked about some parents acting
as poor examples to their children, expressing reprehensible views, and not
having the knowledge or skills to educate their children. Some parents might also
cause trouble if at school their children were taught anything they disagreed with.
This, along with the conviction that parents should have a voice in deciding what
their children should or should not learn when it came to sex and relationships,
meant that there was support for parents’ right to withdraw children from SRE
lessons.
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7.3 Adults’ draw upon the discourses of maturity and innocence
Objections were sometimes raised regarding potential topics within the SRE
curriculum that were largely couched within the discourse of childhood innocence
(with parents placing greater emphasis on this than teachers) and “readiness”.
There was much debate about the material contained in the Living and Growing
DVD (Channel 4 2006). This was particularly the case when the adults considered
the segments dealing with naming genitalia, the introduction of the idea that
children might gain pleasure from their bodies and the DVD’s reference to ‘sex
parts’. While not all the adults responded negatively to the DVD, their reactions
were cautious and complex.
Teachers’ initial responses to the use of the scientific terms to name genitalia and
references to ‘nice’ feelings within the DVD were mixed. Their reservations
stemmed from a number of concerns: whether the information (at least in the form
it was presented) might be too complex for a six- or seven-year old to absorb and
understand, parental reactions, whether children would be encouraged to use
‘rude’ language on the playground and the mention of pleasure and the possibility
that this might provoke ‘inappropriate’ questions from children. However, as they
considered the implications for children’s learning and pedagogical approaches,
and discussed the content of the programme, they tended to reason away some
of their initial objections. They decided that children would quickly tire of repeating
the names for genitalia. After some initial hesitation, some of the teachers also
concluded covering most of these topics early in children’s schooling could avoid
problems in later years. The exception was the subject of pleasure.
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Among the parent participants, Mrs Waites and Mrs Friend were happy to show
the DVD in its entirety, despite some initial discomfort at the content. However,
these two mothers acknowledged that not all parents would feel the same,
agreeing that ‘many parents may need a bit of warning that children are going to
come home with clitoris and things like that, definitely.’ The inclusion of the term
clitoris and of references to pleasure in the DVD certainly did cause some anxiety
among other parents.
Unlike the teachers, parents’ view of children as innocents, rather than on their
ability to understand the information presented in the DVD, was solely at the root
of their reluctance for the concept of pleasure to be introduced. Mrs Paxton and
Mrs Winston were explicit in their statements that they were concerned that
knowledge of potential ‘nice feelings’ might lead children (particularly girls) to
engage in sexual behaviour, although it was unclear exactly what this meant.
None of the teachers made anything close to this kind of suggestion.
These attitudes reflect the ‘pleasure vacuum’ that exists within the SRE curriculum
throughout both primary and secondary schooling (Allen and Carmody 2012; Hirst
2013; Ingham 2005; Rasmussen 2012; Saunston 2013; Sundaram and Saunston
2016). References to pleasure within the documentation relating to the teaching
of SRE are sparse. It does not appear in the DfEE’s (2000) Sex and Relationship
Guidance document, nor Ofsted’s (2002) Sex and Relationships report, offering
guidance on effective practice and expected learning outcomes. This position is
retained in the government’s July 2018 draft for consultation document,
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Relationships Education, Relationships and Sex Education (RSE) and Health
Education (DfE 2018a). Here there is no mention of pleasure or desire; the only
mention of enjoyment is a requirement for secondary school students to know ‘that
they have a choice to delay sex or to enjoy intimacy without sex’ (DfE 2018a: 23).
The PSHE Association’s (2014) Programme of Study finally does mention
pleasure at KS4 within the theme of ‘Relationships’, stating that:
pupils should have the opportunity to learn . . . to understand the
role of sex in the media and its impact on sexuality (including
pornography and related sexual ethics such as consent,
negotiation, boundaries, respect, gender norms, sexual ‘norms’,
trust, communication, pleasure [emphasis added], orgasms, rights,
empowerment, sexism and feminism. (PSHE Association 2014:
18)
In Sex Education for the 21st century (Brook, PSHE Association and SEF 2014: 5)
it is also suggested that SRE should be ‘taught by people who are trained and
confident in talking about issues such as healthy and unhealthy relationships,
equality, pleasure [emphasis added], respect, abuse, sexuality, gender identity,
sex and consent’ (Brook, PSHE Association and SEF 2014: 5). None of these
documents provide an explicit opportunity for primary aged children to interrogate
pleasure, pleasant feelings or desire at any stage.
The failure to examine notions of pleasure and the reluctance of some of these
adults even to name the clitoris (not just in KS1, but right through to secondary
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school) has some troubling potential consequences for all pupils, but perhaps
most significantly for girls and LGBT+ pupils, whose pleasure is by implication
denied and delegitimised (Allen 2007; Allen and Carmody 2012; Fine 2007;
Spencer, Maxwell and Aggleton 2008; Saunston 2013; Sundaram and Saunston
2016). This absence, and the implied sex for reproduction-only discourse,
potentially has an uneven impact on the sexual development and the identities of
girls and boys. It ultimately serves to maintain unbalanced power relationships and
bolsters compulsory heterosexuality.
In fact, some of the teachers were quite explicit about their aversion to talking
about pleasure with children, relating this back to the DVD’s content and specific
mention of the clitoris.
Mr Hall: I think it’s just a little bit too much; I mean they don’t need to know that.
Mrs Brown: I think you’re right.
Mr Hall: It’s not a geography lesson as such, is it?
Mrs Brown: No.
Miss Mcintyre: No, I think penis and vagina is sufficient.
Mr Marshall: I think leave ‘clitoris’ out until secondary, I would say.
Miss Young: Yes, I think it’s ??? for Year 6, to be honest.
Mr Marshall: Yes, I’ve never dreamt of mentioning the word.
Miss Mcintyre: It’s when you’re talking about sex for pleasure rather than sex for
babies, isn’t it, really?
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Despite their references to maturity and understanding, teachers’ reluctance to
talk about pleasure is the clearest indication that some implicitly clung to the
discourse of childhood innocence. At times, perhaps when these teachers talked
about maturity what they were actually referring to is innocence by another name.
Despite their objections to the DVD content, some of the parents and teachers did
acknowledge that their sons experienced pleasure from their own bodies.
Sometimes this resulted in anxiety or confusion for the boys because they were
unsure if what they were experiencing was “normal”. There are a number of
possible explanations for the focus on boys. Perhaps parental identification only
of boys gaining pleasure from touching themselves and having erections is related
to the belief that for boys and men sexual prowess and taking pleasure are
“natural” signifiers of masculinity, whereas for girls there is a greater emphasis on
emotional connection in sexual encounters and purity as a signifier of femininity.
Alternatively, parents might simply have only noticed their boys’ behaviour.
By way of contrast, teachers described a number of instances of both girls and
boys masturbating during lessons. Their concern here was not with the behaviour
itself, which they generally regarded as completely normal for young children, but
the situation in which it occurred (a public rather than private space) and that it
prevented pupils from concentrating on their learning.
In addition to fears that ‘too much’ information might lead to action, there were
also anxieties among parents and teachers that giving some information might
lead on to further, more awkward, questions. The types of questions that worried
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adults were about conception, intercourse and birth. What emerged from
conversations with adults and children was that these types of queries were
already arising among KS1 children and that at least some of the children had
some ideas about pregnancy, birth and conception.
Mrs Brown: I’ve had that question from Eliza, “Why did you have me?” And I’ve
said, “Because mummy and daddy wanted you. Then she says, “Well, I want you
to have another baby, so can’t we have one?” So, then you get into that whole
conversation, but how far do you go when they’re four or five?
Miss Peake: Without//
Mrs Brown: Because she just thinks, “Well, if I want another baby let’s have one.”
Her and me.
Miss Thomson: What did she say the other day? “You know how the man brings
the baby?” So, you know, when she’s asking about it. She’s inquisitive about it
and she wants to know. As soon as she said that I was: ooo!
The teachers appeared more sanguine about the prospect of teaching children
about pregnancy and conception and assumed a greater degree of prior
knowledge than those in the parent group. As Mrs Moore pointed out: ‘. . . a lot
have had younger brothers, or cousins, or other family. So, they’ve probably
experienced it and they probably know more than we think that they know.’
Certainly, conversations with and among the children confirmed the assumption
that children with younger siblings had some understanding of these topics. For
example, when the children were drawing their families Rihanna included a picture
(Fig. 10) of her pregnant mother and unborn baby, while she explained.
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Fig. 10
Rhihanna: I’m going to draw a bump on mummy’s tummy; then I’m going to draw
a baby inside . . . Look, there’s the baby inside the tummy. I don’t think it’s very
happy.
TW: Why isn’t it very happy?
Rihanna: Because it’s sleeping upside down!
TW: Why’s it sleeping upside down Rhianna?
Rihanna: Because that’s the way to the exit!
Later, the children shared their pictures with the group. Rihanna began to talk
about her drawing when Charlotte joined in to show that she understood some
elements of the birthing process.
Rhianna: Here, there’s a little baby.
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Sophie: What’s that there?
TW: That’s the baby’s head.
Sophie: Look at her mummy’s tummy. Look at her//
Charlotte: It turns ‘round when it’s ready for birth.
TW: Is that right?
Charlotte: Yeah. It’s upside down now.
In a later session, responding to a comment from Rihanna that her mother was
not able to drive because she was pregnant, Bobby and Mick were keen to show
that they had some information about pregnancy. The boys demonstrated their
understanding and some misconceptions, which were not challenged by the other
children in the group (Rihanna, Charlotte and Jeremy).
Bobby: Babies, do you know, when someone’s pregnant they do actually drink
wine because the mum drinks something like that. Babies eat what the mum eats
and the mums drink.
Mick: Yeah, that means they can’t eat hard things, like chocolate.
Bobby: Yeah, cause they haven’t got teeth.
Mick: That was mum’s nightmare, for my mum.
Bobby: Yeah, because babies don’t have teeth, so they’d swallow it, get ill and
die.
In a classroom, these misconceptions could be addressed. It is also possible that
statements like these would lead to further questions that could easily be
immediately answered with a simple response from a teacher or taken up in a later
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lesson. However, it seems that teachers were unclear how they should respond
to these types of situations. They worried that parents might complain if they tried
to satisfy children’s curiosity, especially because, as Mrs Brown recalled, this had
previously happened when Year 6 teachers had been covering the topic of
evolution in science. At the same time, most teachers guessed that parental
complaints would come from only a few, and prior experience told some of them
that this was likely to be the case.
In any other subject area teachers’ attitude to developing children’s knowledge
and reactions to children’s questions would be totally at odds with some of the
sentiments expressed in these interviews, and Miss Peake was aware of the
contradictory position they were taking in this area of children’s learning:
It’s difficult, because you want them to be inquisitive. And you would encourage
that questioning in another area, but when it comes to how you make babies it’s
then how you answer that.
Similarly, the notion put forward by a number of teachers and parents that SRE
should be taught when children are “ready” or in a responsive manner, i.e. only
when children demonstrate an interest through questioning, runs counter to
educational practice more generally and would be unmanageable in practice. For
teachers, the idea of maturity was a key stumbling block to the teaching of SRE.
Mrs Brown explained:
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Mrs Brown: But you can have children in a year group. We’ve got those supermature ones, but we’ve also got those children who aren’t of that maturity level;
could they maybe benefit from having that in another year’s time? I can think of
examples of several children in my current class who I think they’re maybe mature
enough to have that conversation, where you could have a more in-depth
conversation with those children. They’re at that point.
It was frequently unclear what teachers meant by maturity. Sometimes it seemed
to relate to the usual educational standards of attainment, on others it seemed to
be more about behavior and on others about the physical development of
children’s bodies.
Demonstrating how a heterosexist discourse dominates schools, for some
teachers the question of maturity was also explicitly related to gender. Girls were
considered more mature than boys, who were likely to be silly, challenging and to
embarrass girls if taught alongside them. Certainly, some research in secondary
settings does indicate that these behaviours are rooted in a range of underlying
causes, including boys’ embarrassment, living up to teacher and peer
expectations, access to pornography and disengagement (Buston, Wright and
Hart 2002; Halstead and Reiss 2003; Haste 2013; Hilton 2001, 2003, 2007; Kehily
2002; Measor 2004). These themes are central to debates focused on boys’
(under)achievement, the nature of the wider curriculum and valuing a form of
masculinity that rejects academic commitment as ‘girlish’ and / or ‘gay’: thereby,
also indicating the lesser nature of these two identities and illuminating the levels
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of homophobia and misogyny existent within schools (Blythe et al 2003; DePalma
and Atkinson 2010; Skelton 2001; Stonewall 2017; Walkerdine 1989).
As Skelton (2001) points out, among those who take the approach that boys
require a certain boy-centred pedagogy and curriculum, there is a tendency to call
upon ideas of what is considered “natural” and to regard boys, and by implication
girls also, as a homogeneous group. There is also a failure to recognize the
potential reinforcing impact of such an approach on the way children construct
their gender identities. As Connolly (2006), drawing on Bourdieu’s notion of
habitus, explains:
. . . while the specific ways in which boys think and behave within
the school will be influenced by what experiences they bring with
them, these will be fundamentally mediated by all relationships,
objects and events within the school itself. All these factors
contribute to and thus make possible the specific form of masculinity
acquired and enacted by the boys within the context of the school.
(Connolly 2006:146)
In all the schools where I have worked as a teacher, the challenges associated
with teaching boys have been the subject of much discussion, but only in the case
of SRE was the suggested solution to educate boys and girls separately. Such an
approach, I argue, is problematic as it denies the diverse identities of both boys
and girls, potentially reinforces essentialist notions of girlhood and boyhood which
deny individual agency in the construction of gender identity and may deny girls
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and boys access to the same SRE. It also reinforces the binary construct of “girl”
and “boy”, with its focus on difference and an imbalance of power. To some extent,
this also undermines the position of female members of staff who are viewed as
less capable of “handling” the boys than their male counterparts.
However, it is important to recognise that, as Alldred and David (2007)
demonstrate, sometimes girls and boys express a preference for being taught
SRE separately, for at least some of the time. Schools should also be careful to
ensure that, if they make the decision to educate girls and boys together, this does
not inadvertently develop into an institutionally accepted opportunity for sexual
harassment, which has already been demonstrated to be a significant problem in
primary schools (Connolly 1998; DfE 2018c; Ofsted 2018; Renold 2002, 2005;
Skelton 1997).
The issue of innocence was raised primarily by the parents’ groups. It is also
notable that Mrs French and Mrs Brown were both more reluctant to educate their
own children about sex and relationships than they were a class of pupils.
Attachment to the concept of innocence tended to be related specifically to adults’
own children and it might be that they saw this as a reflection on themselves as
parents. For example, Mrs Paxton described her oldest daughter (aged 10) as
‘quite a naïve child’, and Mrs Fellowes reflected that her daughters ‘don’t actually
ask a lot of questions’. This meant that both mothers did not feel they had
neglected their duty to inform their (uninterested) children, but also allowed them
to locate themselves as good parents with innocent children. For parents, it is
important to maintain childhood innocence, while a good teacher should educate
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children as much as possible. For teacher-parents this potentially provokes
particular tensions.
7.4 Stable loving families
Children’s interpretation of what constitutes a family might be considered at odds
with the descriptions provided in the statutory guidance (DfEE 2000) and later
reinforced in the Bailey Review (2011). The guidance states that SRE ‘is about
the understanding of the importance of marriage for family life, stable loving
relationships, respect, love and care’. It goes on to explicitly link ‘the value of family
life, marriage, and stable and loving relationships for the nurture of children’,
potentially undermining the validity of those relationships without the presence, or
purpose, of children (DfEE 2000: 5). Similarly, the new draft guidance states:
‘Pupils should know . . . that stable, caring relationships, which may be of different
types, are at the heart of happy families, and are important for children’s security
as they grow up’ (DfE 2018a: 16).
I contend that, if SRE is to have any real benefit for children it should reflect the
reality of children’s lives and the broad social world they inhabit, building from
children’s own understanding of these. Yet, this restricted view of family is mired
in a patriarchal value system that by implication privileges a particular
heterosexual model of family, centred on ‘bringing up children’ and which, in the
DfEE’s 2000 guidance, is unflinchingly portrayed as rewarding for its members
(DfEE 2000:11). More recent guidance continues to place an emphasis on
children being able to recognise the positive characteristics and effects of family
relationships, but does also state that this can help children to recognise when
they are experiencing a toxic situation and that they should be taught where and
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how to seek help (DFE 2018a). Nowhere, does government guidance recognise
partnerships without children as a family, and a strong emphasis remains on
legally sanctioned partnerships (DfE 2018a).
As shown above, these children’s interpretations of family are far looser than those
prescribed by the guidance, with their inattention to legal or blood ties. Adults’
perspectives and experiences of family are also often at variance with those
portrayed in teaching requirements. Some of the younger teachers, in particular,
took a more fluid view of what constitutes family that in some aspects parallels
that of the children.
Miss Young: In my experience of the family, who I would call family aren’t related
to me.
Miss Mcintyre: Yes.
Miss Young: People who are related to me, I perhaps wouldn’t class as family
really, so I think it depends. And I think they need to understand that it’s your
personal situation, how you see it. And that’s okay, isn’t it?
The adults in this study reported a wide range in their experiences of family
structures and characteristics, and of gender expression, both in their professional
and personal lives. Given the anecdotal evidence presented, it is also likely that
the experience of children in any class would reflect this diversity.
Regardless of personal experience and a general desire that children should
understand the world they inhabit, members of the parent groups repeatedly
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returned to a form of family reflected in the guidance documents (DfEE 2000;
DfE2018a). Recognising the heterosexist agenda of the curriculum more broadly
when discussing the use of fiction texts in the classroom, parents talked briefly
about the possibility of widening the range of families depicted in children’s books
while still clinging to the “traditional” family model for their own children. In this
instance, Mrs Winston’s and Mrs Brown’s comments epitomised most of the
adults’ views on teaching about family.
Mrs Winston: I don’t know if I’d be happy with it. I’m not discriminating at all but,
for me it’s husband, wife and baby, or children. I wouldn’t say I’d be happy that
they’re learning it, but I think because of today’s society they have to learn it.
******
Mrs Brown: But then Eliza does ask, you know. Because she said, “I want to
marry you.” To me. And I want to marry daddy. But I said, “You can’t marry
someone in your family.” And we had a talk about that. And then she said, “Can I
marry a girl then?”
Miss Thomson: It’s difficult, isn’t it?
Mrs Brown: She has. She’s asked. Then she says, “I’ll marry Jimmy, then.” Or,
“I’ll marry such and such.” But then I don’t know if I give the right answer. Because
I say, how I want ideally, which is maybe wrong.
Mr Mayall: I think rather than focusing on, or highlighting, perhaps it’s just one of
a whole variety of relationships. Isn’t it? And no relationship is probably better or
worse than any other. They’re just different, aren’t they?
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Mrs Brown: I think it’s hard though, as a parent. Because you have an ideal about
the path your child’s going to take.
Miss Thomson: Exactly.
Mrs Brown: They’re going to get married, they’re going to have children. You
hope that.
Mrs Brown’s ‘ideal path’ for Eliza meant a husband and children. What was also
clear was Eliza’s attachment to the notion of marriage but, on this occasion, less
so heterosexuality. Her questions about who she could marry suggest that she
had no strong ideas about the gender of the person she should marry. She was
exploring the “rules” in her conversation with her mother.
Within the context of the family, adults also pondered whether children should be
introduced to the topics of bereavement and divorce. In both instances, two
perspectives were balanced against one another: concerns that covering these
two issues would prompt children to be fearful versus the possibility that it would
ensure children developed empathy toward others who were suffering these
circumstances and that children would be prepared for the worst.
Some of the children in the group seemed to take bereavement in their stride. As
discussed in Chapter 4, children often included the deceased in their family
pictures. They talked about how they had interacted with aged or sick
grandparents before their deaths and where they might be now. Sophie talked
about the future demise of the family dog, which she was ready to replace. None
of these children had, however, suffered the death of a parent or sibling.
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The same tensions emerged within the adults’ groups as with discussions of topics
like same-sex relationships and some of the biological aspects of SRE. While
some adults considered it important to be proactive about subjects like divorce
and bereavement, others were more circumspect, worrying that they might
unsettle children if these topics were discussed.
In the case of bereavement the teachers leaned much more toward taking a
reactive approach. They would be happy to support individual children suffering a
loss and talk to their classes about the subject should this situation arise. Parents
were more divided and unsure. Some thought their children would be frightened if
this subject were discussed but others were much more open to the possibility.
Mrs Waites: Definitely, you should be talking about it.
Mrs Fellowes: If it’s sensitively done, yes.
Mrs Waites: That’s it, and in a way, it’s kind of like, you can go alongside how can
people help us, when we’ve got a problem, when something, you know, horrible
happens. And it also gives them free rein that if they want to talk about something
that’s happening. Then they’ve got that ability, maybe at home they can’t do
because the rest of the family is going through it. It’s like a safe environment for
them to talk about their feelings as well, whether it’s the cat died or you know, a
family member, or…
Mrs Fellowes: Especially if you’re talking about almost like a life cycle, things
don’t just get born, they don’t just disappear, you know…
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Mrs Waites: Yes, that’s it, and if it’s discussed like everything else, that it’s natural
and normal, and it’s normal to have the feelings that you get alongside it, like you
have, you know, happiness at birth, and you can have sadness at the end as well.
Mrs Thomas argued that children should be taught about bereavement ‘because
then it’s not such a shock to them when it actually happens’. She also thought that
discussing bereavement might help to alleviate some of her children’s fears about
death, rather than promote them:
When I first got sick that was something that did come up a lot. And they worried
about. So --- it’s been very prevailing, every time I have to go to hospital: “Mummy,
you going to die?”
Similarly, a few parents were concerned that talk of divorce would unsettle their
children and make them ‘feel vulnerable’ (Ms Franklin). Mrs Friend recounted how
her son, Alan, was more sensitive to the prospect of his parents divorcing since
his friend Rihanna’s parents had separated, voicing this fear whenever she argued
with her husband and worrying that he would no longer see his father. This led her
to ponder whether it would be worse or better for him to have learned about
divorce and separation in school, explaining that ‘[Alan] was very upset about that,
because Rihanna was upset, so it concerned him a lot. So, I don’t know.’
Even though Mr Heymann thought that divorce was often an easy option for
people having difficulties in their relationships, he still felt that this was an
important subject for teachers to address with children:
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I would, actually, proactively talk about that because if they are going through that
we don’t know what effects it’s going to have on them. And it might be that just by
talking about it, or by their friends being aware of it they stop worrying about it and
think other people are going through what I’m going through. And they don’t have
to suffer in silence.
Mr Heymann’s recognition of the potential benefits in terms of children’s emotional
well-being, relationships with others and for teachers understanding of pupils’
home lives was repeated by other parents.
In general, most the parents were at ease divorce being covered in the context of
teaching about different types of families, particularly as these are relatively
common occurrences. For teachers, talking about single parent families, divorce,
separation and parents forming new relationships was not a matter of debate.
They met these families every day and saw no reason for not discussing these
specific family experiences and formations in a way they would any other family
or relationship.
Some of the children who participated had parents who had separated or had
friends whose parents had done so; some had also needed to adjust to their
parents’ new partners. While they drew, Jeremy and Mick talked about this
subject:
Jeremy: Just putting Keith on now. Just doing it quick.
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Bobby: Who’s Keith?
Jeremy: My mum’s boyfriend.
TW: Has he lived with you for a long time?
Jeremy: Yep. Like last year.
TW: Since last year?
Mick: Like Rihanna. She, she had a dad, but her mum had a boyfriend and her
mum is getting, got married now, I think. And//
TW: She’s going to get married, isn’t she?
Mick: Yes, because Rihanna’s mum and dad split up so they’re going to get
married again.
Rihanna’s parents had separated and she no longer saw her father. Her mother
was pregnant; she and her children were living with a new partner whom she was
due to marry after the birth of their baby. Rihanna’s picture reflected the family that
she lived with every day: her siblings, her mother and her mothers’ partner; she
omitted her father.
The children who took part in this study had experienced divorce or separation in
their own families or those of their friends. Some had experienced the death of
loved ones. Families took a variety of forms amongst this small group of children
and their definition of family was at variance with that commonly held by adults,
although even here it was evident that adult participants’ concept of family was a
fluid one. Nonetheless, a number of the adults related to the notion of an idealised
family configuration, one that they saw as a traditional family with children, and a
father and a mother in a stable long-term relationship (usually, but not always,
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married). This was the adult life they wanted for their children. The majority of
these adults were at ease with the notion that their children should be taught about
a greater range of relationships, but were also keen to protect them from harsh
realities that they might find disturbing.
7.5 (Heterosexual) relationships
As previously discussed, the adults who took part in this study had encountered a
broad range of sexual and gender identities among their families and friends. For
some this had caused discomfort at a personal level. For Mrs Brown, the feelings
were more complex. She had found it difficult to come to terms with her father’s
homosexuality, which was revealed after a long relationship with her mother. She
sometimes found being out in public with him and his partner upsetting due to
other peoples’ reactions.
Mrs Brown: Because it’s my dad, you know. I go out with him and his partner,
who is very feminine, and everybody stands and looks at them. And I’m thinking,
I’m a bit protective, “Hang on that’s my dad.” But I //
Miss Thomson: He is your dad, to you, isn’t he?
Mrs Brown: But I feel uncomfortable because he’s my dad. He’s my dad and
people are looking at him, and they must be thinking, “Who’s she? Who’s he”
Because his partner’s my age. “What’s the relationship there?” And people stop
and stare. They make comments.
Despite, or perhaps because of this, Mrs Brown was uncomfortable with the idea
of young children being taught about same-sex relationships. Miss Redfearne and
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Miss Harvey regarded their own experiences as a sign that children should be
taught about same-sex relationships, because they thought their own negative
reactions to these were based on a lack of familiarity and understanding.
All the teachers with children of their own had engaged them in some kind of
conversation in which they had begun to explain homosexuality and same-sex
relationships. Mr Marshall, for example, had taken the initiative to explain samesex relationships to his five- and seven-year old daughters, aiming to avoid
confusion and the possibility that they might cause upset. They were not usually
spurred on by an immediate need to explain a particular relationship or an
individual’s gender or sexual identity.
Among the parent cohort there was much more variation. Some parents had
addressed the issue because they had friends or family in same-sex relationships,
others had waited or were waiting for their children to ask questions. Among the
parent participants only Mr Egan and Ms Franklin had discussed homosexuality
and same-sex relationships with their three children without the impetus of feeling
the need to explain a particular relationship in their close circle.
Underlying all these conversations, be they with parents or teachers, there
seemed to be an implicit assumption of their own children’s heterosexuality, and
for some parents explicitly so. Mrs Thomas, for example, had been clear with her
sons that she expected their lives to unfold in a neat sequence of events that
included heterosexual marriage (see above). Speaking at a time when same-sex
marriage was yet to be legalised, Mrs Brown also outlined her hopes for her son
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and daughter that included marriage and children. Although none of the other
adults were as forthright as these two women, it was significant that no parent (no
matter which cohort) openly acknowledged the possibility that their own children
would be anything but heterosexual.
When I broached the subject of girlfriend / boyfriend relationships with the children
I always phrased my question in such a way as to leave open the nature of the
relationships to a diverse interpretation of sexuality, e.g. I asked the Year 1
children: ‘. . . do any of you have girlfriends or boyfriends?’; and of a group of Year
2s, I enquired: ‘What does it mean to have a girlfriend or boyfriend?’ Without
exception, the behaviours and relationships the children went on to describe were
heterosexual in nature and often rooted in a traditional romance narrative that
would ultimately lead to marriage in adulthood.
In fact, some of the younger teachers recounted conversations that had taken
place when pupils had discursively positioned them in a liminal space between
childhood and adulthood due to their unmarried status. Miss Thomson outlined
children’s responses when she explained that she did not have a husband and
lived with friends.
Miss Thomson: But I’ve also had them, “So, you don’t live with your mum and
dad? So are your mum and dad dead, then?” They can’t grasp that concept of inbetween that phase of being a teenager and high school and //
Mr Mayall: You don’t fit into a nice neat category, do you?
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Miss Redfearne:
My mum came on a school trip and obviously she’s Mrs
Redfearne. They said, “That’s the proper Mrs Redfearne.” Because she as an
adult, if I wasn’t married//
Miss Thomson: Joseph said, “You’re not married, are you? You’ve got no
marriage ring. Why aren’t you married?” And, he said, “You’ll meet someone.
When are you going to meet someone to get married? You’ll meet someone
eventually, like my mum and dad did.” And off he went. And I felt like I’m getting
counselling from Year 1s. All these questions are there, and they’re trying to
process it.
Despite their professional status and their daily management of children’s lives,
marriage appears to be the marker against which children judged these young
women. Until they married they would not reach true adulthood.
The children talked about having girlfriends and boyfriends. Some considered
themselves to be in relationships. In Mick’s case this was recognised and
commented upon by the other participants drawn from Year 2. Sometimes the
children identified each other as having a girlfriend or boyfriend or as loving
another child; when this occurred the “accusation” caused embarrassment and
were generally vehemently denied. For example:
Alan: She [Charlotte] did say she was in love with Jake.
TW: Is that true?
Charlotte: No!
TW: You didn’t say that.
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Alan: You did.
Mick: You did say that to us.
Charlotte: I didn’t.
Mick: Jake said.
TW: Oh, Jake said. So, hang on a minute. Jake said//
Alan: And Charlotte said to me.
Mick: Alan said to me.
Similarly, Alan aggressively refuted Mick’s statement that Rihanna was his
girlfriend, despite Mick’s continued insistence. Clearly, this was a sensitive subject
among the children, suggesting that it should be addressed carefully when
discussing relationships in a classroom context.
In focus group conversations Mick’s father was the only adult to note children’s
‘romantic’ relationships as a reason for addressing the issue in SRE.
Mr Ling: I think in relation to, I mean there are two sides to this coin. You’re
talking about sex; what does a five-, six-, seven-year old think? What are they
aware of? From my point of view, I don’t want to go into the mechanics of the
thing, because they aren’t aware of it at that age. But the relationships side, I
think they are aware. They’re forming relationships themselves, anyway. Ours is
always running around: “Yes, I’ve got a girlfriend!” So they’re aware of this side,
and I think that should be the emphasis, from my point of view.
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However, despite the importance that Mick placed upon his romance with Karen,
and the conversations of other children, this was the only time Mr Ling mentioned
this subject. This suggests either a genuine lack of awareness among the adults,
something that seems particularly unlikely for the teachers, or a failure of adults
to take children’s romances seriously. While this might seem a sensible attitude
from the adults’ perspective, the dismissive approach to children’s romantic lives
negates their validity. It also fails to acknowledge that children are actively
engaged in building their own gendered and sexual identities and means that they
fail to recognise the impact of these relationships on the way they view themselves
and are regarded by their peers. In terms of the SRE they receive, this also
suggests that it is important for children to have the opportunity to learn about how
to manage their emotions and negotiate their relationships
In this cohort of children there was no suggestion that girls were stigmatised for
their involvement with or for liking / loving boys or, conversely, for their rejection
of the playground romance narrative. Boys who were not actively interested in
finding a girlfriend were consequently judged to be lacking in some way. However,
a range of studies show that these children would likely be confronted with these
attitudes in the not too distant future (Cowie and Lees 1981; Lees 1996; Renold
2005, 2007).
Despite a range of parenting approaches adopted by the adult participants, there
was a strong trend toward the view that KS1 children should be taught about
same-sex relationships to prevent them offending others, avoid confusion, and
ensure they understand the relationships they see in their own lives and through
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television representations. However, there was a significant lack of engagement
with the idea that any of these adults’ children might themselves be anything other
than heterosexual, even from those with LGBT+ family members, and a
downplaying of the importance of children’s own relationships.
7.6 Gender stereotypes and compulsory heterosexuality
As a number of studies have shown, it is possible to deliberately challenge gender
stereotypes, heterosexism and misogyny through the content and delivery of the
curriculum (e.g. Allan et al 2010; DePalma and Atkinson 2009, 2010; Davies
1989b, 1993). However, the ‘institutional arrangements’ of schools and the wider
society frequently work to counter the messages of these types of programmes
(West and Zimmerman 1987: 146). Within schools the formal and informal
arrangement of physical space, such as separate toilets for girls and boys, the
placing of play equipment and playground markings, take for granted the gender
binary of female and male. Similarly, social arrangements and casual social
interactions, like asking children to form boys’ lines and girls’ lines, seating girls
and boys alternately as a behaviour management strategy, and praising work or
behaviour using phrases like ‘good girl’ and ‘good boy’, work to reinforce this
dichotomy and support stereotypes (NUT 2013).
Specific expressions of gender and sexuality are also assumed and policed by
children themselves. Matty and his older brother knew “the rules” and did not want
to be seen to be engaging in gender transgressive behaviours. They were
adamant that no one should find out that they enjoyed ‘girls’ films’, like Tangled
(2010), for to be associated with a “girls’ entertainment” would also place them as
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feminine. In conversations, children expressed a tension; they opined that anyone
could be or do anything, but then backtracked with many caveats and
assessments that in small but persistent ways positioned women as less than
men. For example, the children in Alan’s group all agreed when he asserted that,
‘Men do the cooking; women shouldn’t do the cooking.’ He went on to explain that
the reason for this was that women burn food whereas men do not. When
Charlotte, who stated that ‘men are better than women because they do better
stuff’, said that her father had burnt the toast that morning the children shifted their
position, siding with Fred that view that ‘It’s nice when it’s burnt.’ Similarly, Miss
Macintyre’s acknowledgement that it is quite acceptable for girls to be tomboys,
whereas boys who don stereotypical girls’ clothing or engage in ‘girls’ activities’
are looked down upon, speaks to an underlying assumption that masculine is
superior to feminine.
Teachers recognised that they had themselves absorbed stereotypes. For
example, Miss Peake reflected: ‘We are that conditioned, aren’t we, to think that
as a girl I should play with that doll. And as a boy I should//.’ Others, like Mrs Old
(above) continued to express the view that there is an essential difference
between girls and boys that is located in the body. Nonetheless, most who took
part were rhetorically eager to address stereotypes with children and to defend
those who broke with them.
Mr Hall: I think we are educating them, but the deep roots of what their getting
from home – those stereotypes can be very far ingrained. So that’s the combat
we’ve got in school.
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Mrs Brown: That’s why we get inappropriate language and stuff.
Mr Hall: Yes.
Miss Young: There’ll use the word, like gay, but they don’t really know what
they’re saying because they’ve heard it at home for someone who might be a bit
girly, or whatever.
Mrs Brown: And that’s when you’ve got to deal with those inappropriate . . .
because they might just say it, might they. They might think it’s okay to say that.
However, some who took part in this study equated behaving in ways that
transgressed stereotypes as an automatic indication of homosexuality. As
demonstrated by Martino and Cumming-Potvin’s (2014) case study of Tom, a
white male elementary school teacher in Canada who self-identified as gay, it
seems that the leap in thinking from boys breaking away from stereotypical
behaviours to being gay is not uncommon. In his classroom, Tom employed
mechanisms to achieve liberal aims around ‘celebrating difference’, e.g. using
texts where girls were portrayed in non-traditional roles or that focused on families
with two fathers (Martino and Cumming-Potvin 2014: 13). Despite this Tom
exhibited a reluctance to use the book My Princess Boy, the story of a boy who
enjoyed wearing dresses and a tiara, as a pedagogical text (Kilodavis and
DeSimone 2010). Tom immediately read the Princess Boy’s preferences as a sign
of his gay sexuality rather than considering these to be alternative expressions of
straight masculinity or trans-identity, for example. Rather than being willing to
disrupt gender norms, Tom’s assumption that the Princess Boy cannot be
heterosexual highlighted and ultimately served to reinforce masculine stereotypes
rather than to disrupt gender norms.
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Teaching that seeks to trouble gender stereotypes needs careful construction and
exploration. Teachers here were happy to accept that individuals might wish to
express themselves in non-stereotypical ways, but the underlying assumption was
that, for boys this would be an indication of non-straight sexuality. There seemed
to be no equivalent assumption that a tomboy identity would equate to lesbian
sexuality. Even if teachers are giving the message that LGBT+ identities are to be
celebrated, these narrow perspectives on how identities are enacted means that
individuals might shy away from non-conformist embodiments of gender and
sexuality for fear of being positioned as Other.
No parents and only one group of teachers considered the position of LGBT+
teachers. They acknowledged that some parents would likely react very negatively
should a teacher overtly present themselves as gay or lesbian. At the same time,
some thought that this could be a positive way for both children, parents and
teachers to develop understanding:
Mrs Brown: The child goes home; you can hear what’s going to be said: “My
teacher’s talking about his boyfriend.” Father: “Pervert!” You can hear it. They
automatically think there’s something sinister. You can hear it. I think a lot of
people would think there’s something sinister with it. . .
Mrs Harvey: And it’s down to personal experience. Because we’ve got some
families who we might initially think they’d cause some trouble if there’s mention
of the word ‘gay’, but in fact if they had experience of it in their own family their
view would be completely different.
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Mrs Brown: Or if they had a teacher at that age, because it might take a
generation to change//
Miss Thomson: It’s almost like you’ve got to feed it up, isn’t it?
Mrs Brown: You need to take the step, and then hopefully//
Miss Peake: Because if people don’t have an awareness of it, then//
Mr Mayall: I think it’s going to take a generation or two.
Miss Thomson: It’s almost like you’ve got to teach the parents.
Mr Mayall: Even a few teachers as well, because as you say there are teachers
who will think, “I would like to teach mum and dad, that’s the basic family.”
Echoing Mr Mayall’s observation, Miss Redfearne reflected upon her own feelings
in this regard.
Miss Redfearne: I don’t know anyone who’s gay, so I don’t know how I would feel
if my children came home and said, “My teacher’s talked about his boyfriend.”
Maybe we have to overcome that as individuals. Just think, “This is something
new. My child is getting a new experience.” I don’t know.
These discussions might suggest that underneath these, often well-intentioned,
pronouncements lay heterosexist assumptions: we are all heterosexuals here; we
are normal; homosexuality is different / Other and should be understood and
tolerated.
While none of the children in the study voiced homophobic opinions or language
during the focus group sessions, speaking to parents and teachers revealed that
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a small minority of those who took part were known to have done so in the past.
However, the privileging of the heterosexual is itself sufficient to police the
performance of gender within the school environment and beyond, silencing those
who might sit outside of “acceptable” forms of femininity and masculinity (Preston
2016; Renold 2002, 2003; Ryan 2016). As Ryan (2016) reflected on her own work
in a US school:
In times of whispered peer talk, ‘off-task’ chatter, creative writing
activities,
imaginary
dramatic
play
and
many
others,
heteronormative messages regularly circulate among children in
elementary schools. Through their antigay talk and, more
regularly, through their narratives and play that silence all but
normative heterosexuality, children learn and perpetuate the idea
that LGBT identities and practices are not normal, not acceptable
and not valued. As children’s own discourses of (hetero)sexuality
provide a significant mechanism through which heteronormativity
is perpetuated, they are also an important part of what maintains
non-equitable environments for LGBT students and those from
LGBT-headed families. (Ryan 2016: 86-87)
The “common sense” heterosexist environment in which pupils existed at home
and in school went unchallenged by the children who took part in this study. What
was evident from their description of games and friendships was the power of the
heterosexual matrix. These children did little to trouble stereotypes in their play.
Indeed, most mixed-gender play resulted in borderwork that served to maintain
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the status quo in terms of the relational construction of gender and sexual identity,
and gender power relations (Thorne 1993).
7.7 Protecting childhood
Despite a range of reports and statements produced by government officials and
other interested parties, and intense media attention on marketing and
‘inappropriate’ products aimed at children, none of the adult participants in this
study expressed worries that their children were suffering as a consequence of
these forces (Bailey 2011; Byron 2008; 2010; Papadopoulos 2010; Ross 2010;
Wilson 2012; Wintour 2010). Parents did not describe children applying pressure
on them to purchase goods that they considered unsuitable due to their “adult”
nature, nor feeling that they had to give way to their children’s demands just
because other parents had done so. Given the national climate of near moral panic
at the time of these discussions, this might be thought of as somewhat surprising.
It is also the case that the children in this study did not talk about their desire for
particular types of clothing or toys of any kind. This was a subject that simply did
not arise in their conversations.
It could be that parents and teachers were comfortable with the products aimed at
children that they encountered, even types frequently portrayed as excessively
adult or sexual in nature. They might simply see these as unthreatening.
Alternatively, it could be the case that their own children were not interested in
these types of products and so, while they might be more widely seen as
problematic, for these adults this was somebody else’s problem and therefore not
at the forefront of their minds when taking part in these discussions.
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The children discussed the differences between girls and boys, but did not refer
to clothing when they did so. None of these children spoke about aspiring to own
clothing or toys because they had seen them advertised on television or in
magazines, seen celebrities wearing them or because they were branded. It is
also the case that, unlike some of the other KS1 children in the school, they usually
appeared at school discos, parties and on non-uniform days in clothing that would
typically be considered “innocent” or “age appropriate”. On these occasions, the
boys would arrive in T-shirts, jeans and trainers. The girls would generally appear
in pretty dresses or, like the boys, in jeans, a casual top and trainers or sandals.
These children’s clothes were usually unbranded, purchased from local
supermarkets and bore a marked similarity to one another.
What was more of a concern to participants in the parent focus groups was adult
content of television programmes and the perceived threats that come from
children engaging with the digital world. In 2012, most children watched television
every day and it was their most popular ‘media activity’ (Ofcom 2012: 3). As such,
it is unsurprising that parents found this medium especially troubling. While this
persists in being a significant source of entertainment the nature of televisionviewing has changed significantly over time, and there has been a shift toward
children spending more of their time online (Ofcom 2016).
Despite their concerns, none of the parents indicated that there should be more
regulation of television programming. Only Mrs Thomas claimed to prevent her
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children from watching adult television programmes, an assertion that was
backed-up by her sons who had differing opinions on their prescribed viewing.
John: I don’t even like CBBC. I have to watch CBBC.
William: I love it.
To some extent these parents’ views replicated those expressed on a national
scale, with 77% of parents stating that they believe there is ‘about the right amount
of television regulation’ (Ofcom 2016: 4). Rather than regulation, the adults shared
the view that children should be educated (either by their parents or the school) to
understand what they see on the television as a reflection of relationships and
people they might encounter in their own lives.
In a time before streaming and YouTube gained a hold on home entertainment,
these children reported enjoying a wide range of both children’s and adult
television programming and films, including Phineas and Ferb, The Simpsons,
Harry Potter, Bear Grylls, and Transformers, alongside soap operas, An Idiot
Abroad and Benidorm. Children’s viewing habits were quite varied. Christopher
claimed not to enjoy any adult programmes; Fred spent some time viewing with
his dad (e.g. Top Gear); Alan watched soap operas and the horror series The
Waking Dead with his parents, and Bobby cited The Wedding Singer as his
favourite film, which was rated certificate 12 by the British Board of Film
Classification for ‘strong language’ and ‘moderate sex references’ (BBFC n.d.).
What also emerged was, that in some cases of shared viewing of adult-content
television, children took the opportunity to ask their parents questions about what
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they watched and some parents might have considered these occasions a
teaching and learning opportunity.
Eliza: Sometimes mum watches Eastenders and//
TW: Do you watch Eastenders with mum?
Eliza: Sometimes. And sometimes I watch Coronation Street.
TW: Do you like those kinds of programmes, Eliza?
Eliza: I like some of them. I like the one where they got married . . . I like the one
where they got stuck in a fire in a house.
TW: That sounds horrible.
Eliza: I did like it, because I asked lots of questions of mum.
TW: What kinds of questions did you ask?
Eliza: Who are those people and what are they doing?
TW: Does your mum tell you all about the programmes when you’re watching.
Eliza: Yes.
An area of greater concern highlighted by parents was internet use. In 2012, the
year these focus group interviews were undertaken, parent participants expressed
similar concerns to those outlined by Ofcom in its Children and Parents: Media
Use and Attitudes Report (2012). Ofcom reported that 17% of parent respondents
worried about the online content their children (aged 5-15) might access and 20%
about who their children might ‘be in contact with online’.
Those parent participants who expressed the greatest concerns and who often
initiated discussion of the subject were those who had seen the possible dangers
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of the internet close to or in their own homes. Ms Knight and Mrs Fellowes were
both eager to address this subject. Ms Knight’s niece had been the victim of online
grooming and Mrs Fellowes’ oldest daughter had been subjected to internet
bullying by another girl in her class (see above). Ms Knight’s experience led her
to stop her children playing games and messaging via the internet:
I mean, it’s so difficult with your children. They’re coming home saying, “It’s not
fair; such-and-such goes on it and I want to chat to them.” And you’re saying, as
a parent, “I don’t care who’s going on it, you’re not.” And you feel, you do feel
mean.
Mrs Fellowes explained that, despite feeling torn, her response to her eldest
daughter’s situation was somewhat different:
And the child threatened to post all sorts of things about her online. I mean, it has
been dealt with now at school, and she’s happier. But, like I say, I don’t really want
her to go on it, but all her friends go on it, and it’s difficult. You don’t want to say,
“You can’t go on it. If you’re going to get these kinds of messages we’re going to
have to think about it.”
These conversations led other parents to express their fears for their children. In
these discussions, the parents tended to see their children’s engagement with the
internet as directly threatening: as the home of predators, be they young or old.
However, only Mrs Thomas had taken technical steps to ensure her sons’ safety
when using the computer, by putting limitations on the sites they could visit and
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the amount of time they could go online. Some of the children were also allowed
to play on sites with social networking features. In Year 1, Eliza, said that she
sometimes played Minecraft with a friend of her older brother and Matty had
played Movie Star Planet with people he knew in the real world. Moshie Monsters
was a popular game among both the Year 1 and Year 2 children. Despite
Elizabeth’s older sister having been the subject of cyberbullying, she was the only
child to admit to messaging people she did not know. None of the children had
their own Facebook accounts, but one group of Year 2 children did talk about
using their parents’ accounts to play games with their parents’ friends.
Furthermore, some of these children had an online presence thanks to their
parents uploading their images to Facebook. While the parents talked about the
internet as a dangerous virtual world, they seemed to see it as a danger to children
other than their own.
The teachers took a slightly different view. They saw children’s access to the
internet as a justification for teaching pupils about their bodies so they would not
need to go searching on the web for information, and accidently putting
themselves in harm’s way.
Miss Macintyre, participating in a teachers’ group discussion, recalled an incident
when an older girl had taken to the internet to find out about her own body.
Miss Macintyre: I recently had to deal with a case, because of my ICT
background, I had to deal with a case recently of a young girl taking photos of
herself on a phone, and then looking at lesbians on the internet to find out what
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the bits of her vagina were. Erm, that was a girl who was 11. That was a couple
of years ago, so she was in Year 6 at the time, and she was at that level where
she was able to access the information herself. But she had taken pictures of
herself on her phone//
Mrs Brown: What? To find out what they were?
Miss Macintyre: Her mum was absolutely mortified because she had found out.
This girl was just simply enquiring, she wasn’t trying to do it for sex reasons. She
just wanted to know.
Mr Hall: Yes.
Miss Macintyre: So, if you’re getting to that point where children are risking, you
know having an electronic copy photo, then perhaps you’ve got to say it’s our duty
to teach it before they need to do that and risk themselves in other ways.
Children’s safety in the real world was also an issue for parents. It became clear
from discussions between the children and the adults that parents took steps to
inform their children of the dangers of the world beyond school and home and, in
some cases, to limit their exposure to potential dangers by ensuring their children
did not stray too far unsupervised. For example, as noted above, Jeremy reported
that his mother had told him it was ‘too dangerous’ to go outside when he had
asked to visit friends. To Mick this seemed unreasonable:
I don’t think it’s fair that Jeremy isn’t allowed out because I’m allowed to go onto
my bike, onto the path that goes onto the main road. On my own.
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However, Mick’s perception of being ‘on his own’ was soon undercut when he
admitted that he was allowed to ride his bike unaccompanied when his father was
outside washing the car; presumably where he could see where Mick was going
and what he was doing.
Some children, including Mick, were given limited freedom to roam.
Bobby: My friend who lives on my estate. He lives about five blocks away, and
we go to the park/
Jeremy: ________ Park.
Bobby: No. _________ Park.
Nick: Mick told me about that. And he said it’s got four swings.
Bobby: It has two baby swings and two big swings.
Nick: And I live near a park. And me and Mick go down on it, and to go, by
ourselves, and play there. And mummy and daddy give a time to come back, and
I have my watch on so I know what time it is.
Bobby was also allowed to visit his friends Helen and Kirsty. He explained: ‘I have
to ask first to go ‘round their house, ‘cause they live on a different estate.’ This is
not to say that when children did go out on their own that this was without incident.
The problems children encountered on their excursions, however, seemed to
come from other children rather than adults. For example, Bobby explained that
on one of his trips to the park with Helen and Kirsty they had been bullied by older
boys, which had provoked the girls’ mother to ‘go tell them off’.
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Parents also found it hard to get the balance right when talking to their children
about stranger danger.
Ms Knight: You do try and keep them safe as much as you can. I mean, I always
tell my girls about strangers. And one day we were walking back from the shop
and they ran on ahead. I came ‘round the corner to the back of the house, they’re
both crouched down by the car. “What are you doing?” “Mum, there’s a stranger.”
I thought: god, I’ve scared them to death.
Mrs Fellowes: This is it. I mean, obviously you teach them about now talking to
strangers, at school. But you don’t want them to now talk to anybody. They have
to see there are certain ways of not being touched and whatever.
On the whole, these parents did not present themselves as paranoid (Furedi
2002). Their reactions to real or perceived threats were, at least rhetorically,
measured. However, this is not to say they were entirely comfortable with giving
their children free rein. For example, no matter how close they lived and no matter
how many other children were walking to and from school, none of these children
came to school independently. They were eager to have their children educated
to both inform and protect them. Furthermore, the very fact of parental
engagement with these focus groups indicates a significant level of engagement
and concern with the lives of their children.
7.8 Conclusion
What emerges here is a good degree of consensus among the adults who took
part in these focus groups. It is also evident that these parents held their children’s
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teachers in high regard, and that teachers were respectful of parents’ rights and
responsibilities. This, along with the prospect of a parent backlash, led teachers
to support parents’ prerogative to excuse their children from SRE. For the parents
this meant the way forward was to work with the school to ensure they were happy
with and well-informed about their children’s SRE. However, the acceptance of
the right to withdraw meant that parents’ rights would always trump the needs of
children, despite acknowledgements that some parents are ill-equipped to teach
their children and that SRE could be used to counter social injustice.
Repeatedly, adults underestimated the resourcefulness of children and
discounted their experiences. Teachers did tend to be more willing to accept that
children had developed knowledge of subjects like pregnancy and relationships
through their own experiences, and conversations with children demonstrated that
they were correct to do so. They tended to be more confident and willing than
parents to teach children about these, but this was not always the case. Resorting
to images of children as innocents and lacking maturity enabled adults to dodge
children’s questions and avoid engaging with them about sensitive or challenging
subjects. Yet, children repeatedly demonstrated curiosity and knowledge.
The power of compulsory heterosexuality and the impulse to regulate children’s
lives runs through all the discussions. Adults spoke about addressing stereotypes
and challenging homophobia but repeatedly their words and actions mitigated
against these aims. Similarly, children’s view of the world was very much rooted
in a heterosexist norm that privileged the masculine. Adults’ desire to protect
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children was not always carried through in to action and was not always welcomed
by those children who saw their freedom restricted.
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Chapter 8: Conclusion
Girls persisted in playing on the bars despite the boys’ efforts to disrupt their
enjoyment with name-calling and physical aggression. Some of the girls, and their
parents, had developed strategies to thwart the boys attempts to embarrass them:
Janet and Lily were playing on the bars. As they whooped with
delight, swinging themselves round at speed, Dominic and Sam
grabbed the girls’ skirts and pulled them over their heads. Rather
than exposing the girls’ underwear they revealed the shorts the
girls wore for protection. This was not the first time the boys had
struck, but this time the girls were prepared.
8.1 Introduction
This thesis has explored a small group of young children’s understanding of their
developing gender and sexual identities, the gendered (heterosexist) social
environment they occupy, and their lived experienced of these. It has also sought
to examine adult opinions of what KS1 children should learn in SRE, and the
extent to which their rationale is consistent with children’s knowledge, experiences
and needs.
Focus group interviews with parents and teachers were used to expose adults’
views about the possible content of an SRE programme of study for KS1 children.
Their purpose was also to provide the means to evaluate the degree to which
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these teachers’ and parents’ perspectives on gendered and sexual development
coincided with children’s experiences, knowledge and attitude, the underlying idea
being that whatever children are taught will only be useful and productive if we
begin from the point of children’s prior knowledge and understanding, as with any
other subject in the curriculum.
Throughout the research process I have assumed that children are competent
beings with the ability to reflect upon their own lives and what they see around
them. The aim here has been to allow children to articulate their experiences and
perspectives and to value their utterances as authentic representations. Children
consistently showed that they possess a sophisticated understanding of the world
around them. At times, their understanding might well be different from that of
adults; nonetheless it carries real meaning and forms the foundation of children’s
social interactions and their active construction of gender and sexual identities.
The children demonstrated a high degree of self-awareness and an ability to make
decisions purposively, for example, not participating in certain games or playing
with particular children because they were aware of the potential negative
consequences. They also showed a consciousness of their own social position.
Jeremy, for example, acknowledged that he would decisively insert himself into
other children’s games when he knew he would not be their first choice of
playmate.
The focus on one school means that the data and the conclusions drawn from this
piece of research cannot be viewed as universally applicable. This was a snapshot
in time of a small group of children, parents and teachers from a primary school in
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the Midlands. The views expressed by participants might not even coincide with
those of others from the same setting at the same time. Nonetheless, it was hoped
that for the adults the experience of participation might lead those individuals to
consider more carefully their words and actions when interacting with children. In
the case of teachers, the hope was to lead to a deeper interrogation of curriculum
content, classroom practice, and school ethos and organisation. For parent
participants, the focus group presented an opportunity to discuss issues usually
considered to be a part of the private sphere, allowing deep reflection on the way
they interacted with their children and their children’s schooling. For the children,
this was a relatively rare occasion when they could do much to set the agenda of
conversations with an adult, and openly explore their thoughts on gender and
sexuality. Ultimately, it was hoped that this would provide a genuine opportunity
for them to contribute to curriculum design.
Some participants’ views evolved through the focus group interview process and
individuals did grapple with contradictory perspectives. It was my hope that
participation in this research might itself lead to a small tremor in the heterosexual
matrix. However, this is not to say that this experience was truly transformative in
any great measure, nor that all participants spoke completely freely. For example,
when children were asked the difference between boys and girls there was much
giggling among the Year 1 children and Nick was clear that he knew the difference
but was reluctant to articulate these among his peers. It was evident that the
children recognised that some of the subjects they were addressing were not
usually open to them within the public sphere of the school. Nevertheless, it is
hoped that some of the conversations contained here and the findings that are
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drawn from these interviews will resonate with readers and lead them in turn to
examine policy and practice in the education system.
8.2 Findings
8.2.1 Young children’s gender and sexual identities are constructed within
the heterosexual matrix
Despite neo-liberal rhetoric proclaiming girls’ academic achievements as a
success story, children’s conversations regarding gender roles and stereotypes
were suffused with the notion that men were superior to women. What they
presented was a deficit model of the feminine while simultaneously proclaiming
that girls and boys / women and men ‘can do anything’. While both girls and boys
could be ‘good at’ the same things in class, for example maths or writing, in their
play the gender divide was more evident. Girls could play ice monsters under
certain conditions: the name of the game changed to princess ice monsters, and
girls could not be a king or a soldier.
The children’s perspectives on adult gender roles were complex and full of
contradictions, something recognised by the children themselves. They initially
declared that men and women can have the same jobs. However, when they
began to interrogate this idea certain conditions emerged. When discussing
employment none of the children explored the possibility of inserting men into
professions traditionally regarded as female. Just as girls could only participate in
the game of ice monsters under certain conditions, women could be in the navy
but ‘they might get hurt, or they might do something wrong’ so they could only
perform less dangerous roles. Even Bobby’s assertion that ‘girls are usually the
medic’ (a role that adults would usually regard as high status) was stated in a way
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that undermined the value of the role. ‘Girls’ could be the medic because they are
not brave or strong, should not be using guns and could only perform a role with
the permission of the (presumably male) captain. In both the playground and
employment, the feminine was positioned as both lesser and potentially
dangerous: girls and women might cause harm to themselves and others through
their deficient natures.
The children’s expressed gender and sexual identities reflected an unquestioned
binary framework; they clearly located themselves within the heterosexual matrix.
These children did, however, differ from those described in other studies (e.g.
Connolly 1998, Renold 2002). The girls who participated in this research did not
exhibit hypersexualised versions of girlhood. The pretty princess, ‘nice’ girly-girl
was an idealised manifestation of girlhood to which most of these girls aspired
(Paechter 2010). It was not, however, the only way of doing girl available or
practiced by the girls at BCP. These girls would individualise their uniforms,
frequently appearing with varnished nails, plastic rings, bracelets and flamboyant
adornments in their hair (see Epstein and Johnson 1998). On non-uniform days
and for after school celebrations most would appear in pretty party dresses. Even
those, like Rihanna and Elizabeth, who would more often arrive in a t-shirt and
jeans, would subvert their tomboy image by retaining elements of a princess
aesthetic with extravagantly decorated headbands.
The boys in this study were not among those who derived their masculine
identities from a violent, physically assertive, ‘laddish’ persona. Despite some
being members of the school football team, they would not even be described as
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especially ‘sporty’. Even Bobby, the boy most likely to raise the ire of his teachers
for his poor classroom behaviour, propensity to engage in physical encounters on
the playground and occasional use of offensive language, was a far cry from a
‘little tough’ (Connolly 1998). Most of these boys explicitly rejected the hegemonic
form of masculinity within the context of BCP and distanced themselves from the
hegemonic boys.
In their discussions, children rhetorically acknowledged the possibility of border
crossing with their rhetoric of ‘anyone can do anything’. These children often
played in mixed groups of girls and boys, two of the boys identified girls as their
best friends, but the nature of their games often served to reinforce rather than
disrupt gendered power relations and identities. As Matty’s secret enjoyment of
Tangled (2010) demonstrates, the reality is that most children quickly learn and
outwardly comply with the rules and regulations of the heterosexist microcommunities of the playground and classroom. Indeed, the girls were at pains to
retain feminine signifiers for themselves; they did not want their girlhood ‘invaded’
by the boys. Pamper parties and pink nail varnish were for girls. Boys would have
to make do with something less glamorous or feminine.
8.2.2 Children engage and invest in ‘romantic’ relationships
Within a heteronormative framework, girl / boyfriend relationships were important
to this group of children. Unlike children in Connolly’s study (1998), they viewed
these very much in romantic terms, and sometimes talked about marriage in the
future. This was particularly the case for the boys. Even those in Year 1 who
hoped for multiple partners talked about them in terms of liking or loving rather
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than in terms of physical attributes or behaviours. The boys did not refer to
prospective girlfriends, or girls generally, in derogatory terms at all during these
focus group sessions. They did not exhibit the sexual double standards that are
characteristic in studies of children elsewhere (Connolly 1998, Renold 2005).
Children regarded their own relationships as having authentic meaning. They were
genuinely emotionally invested in them, be they actual or desired. Girlfriend–
boyfriend relationships were integral to the children’s construction of their gender
and sexual identities and they derived status among their peers as a result of their
involvement with a member of the opposite sex. It seemed that even identifying
other children or being identified as a potential girlfriend or boyfriend was enough
for these children to gain a degree of status by discursively inserting themselves
into a heteroromantic, adult narrative. Despite this, the adults tended to be rather
dismissive or completely ignore the existence of these relationships.
Within their peer group, Mick and Karen’s relatively unusual relationship was
particularly important in that it had some characteristics more akin to those of older
primary school children (Renold 2005). This was a longstanding paring; Mick and
Karen would spend playtimes together as part of a larger friendship group and
were open with their parents and teachers about its existence. This was the type
of partnership to which some other children, like Rihanna, aspired. At times, it
seemed that this was a proxy relationship for many of the children in Year 2 who
lived out their romantic lives through Karen and Mick’s relationship; they could
gain much of the pleasure with none of the pain this way.
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Only a small number of children had girlfriends or boyfriends. Most positioned
themselves as prospective heterosexual partners, a few dismissed the idea until
they were older or were silent during discussions of who liked whom. Whilst
Renold’s (2006) study found that children struggled to sustain a girl-boy
friendships without the looming insinuation of a possible romantic relationship, this
was not the case here. None of the children touched upon the possibility of samesex relationships, either for themselves or in the context of family and friends.
Despite the significance of these relationships, among the adults only Mick’s father
even acknowledged their existence within the focus group sessions. Perhaps
recognising these would be regarded by parents as admitting that their children
were sexual beings inserting themselves into the adult world. This might too
impact on their conceptions of themselves as good parents with innocent children.
8.2.3 Parents tenaciously cling to the discourse of innocence and
heterosexuality in relation to their own children
Parents frequently spoke of the need to educate their children to be equipped to
understand their social world. They worried about things their children might see
and find troubling or confusing, sharing experiences of what children had seen on
television or in the street that had prompted them to raise questions that parents
sometimes felt uncomfortable or ill-equipped to deal with. They recounted
episodes when their children had been curious, interrogated them about sexual
matters and relationships, and talked about a range of family structures and sexual
identities that their children had experienced.
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There was a strong need for parents to retain children’s innocence, which was
demonstrated by explaining that their children were naïve or lacked interest in the
sexual and therefore were not ready for sex education. This was the foundation of
their arguments for withholding information from children and meant they could
avoid potentially embarrassing and difficult conversations with their children.
Simultaneously, some parents worried that ‘too much’ information would even
provoke children (girls) into action in order to satisfy their curiosity, although what
they meant by ‘action’ was never clarified. No-one identified the contradictions in
the arguments they presented.
Alongside seeing them as innocents, when parents discussed their own children
and the futures they envisaged for them what they presented was a heterosexual
narrative. Furthermore, those who explicitly outlined their hopes for the trajectory
of their children’s lives wanted them to form lasting heterosexual relationships,
marry, and have children; they hoped for what they saw as a “traditional” future
and family. There was no hint of the possibility that their children, or even other
children might identify as gay, lesbian or bisexual. Only one parent raised the
question of gender dysphoria, but very much at a distance from her own
daughters.
Some adult participants were both teachers and parents. For most, the role of
teacher was carried over into their parenting. They were more comfortable
responding to questions, and more proactive in their approach to children learning
about sex and relationships. Some, by implication, even acknowledged the
possibility that their children might identify as gay or lesbian. However, a small
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number of teachers felt more confident and comfortable in their professional role,
seeing their own children as innocents who needed protection from too much
knowledge.
It might well have been the case that parents did not want to admit to sharing
sexual knowledge with their children because they might be seen as bad parents
by others, like the mother in Davies and Robinson’s (2010) study. In a society that
discursively locates children as nonsexual, young people who gain sexual
knowledge and experience are positioned as either sexually precocious or victims.
In each case this would likely lead to censure of the parents. Perhaps those
parents who clung most desperately to the discourse of innocence and
heterosexuality saw these characteristics as signifiers of “good” children and as
of themselves as “good” parents; their own identities might well have rested upon
this characterisation of their children. This also served to reinforce the adult / child
binary in which the power rested with the parents.
8.2.4 Teachers see children as lacking maturity rather than as innocents
Teachers were less inclined to talk about children as innocents than the parent
participants. Their professional encounters with pupils tended to mean that they
thought far more in terms of children’s capabilities to understand and engage in
learning. They recognised that children gained pleasure from their bodies and
regarded this as distracting and something that should be confined to the private
sphere. They also acknowledged that they had witnessed children abusing one
another by using terms like gay and lesbian.
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Teachers invoked a discourse of maturity (especially in reference to boys) rather
than one of innocence to justify limitations of access to information and preferred
pedagogy.
Unlike the parents, however, they openly identified some of the
contradictions contained in their arguments. They noted that they were potentially
applying their own adult perspectives to children’s lives, thereby distorting
meaning. They also realised that they were treating SRE in a very different way to
that of any other subject. For example, they sometimes suggested that they would
only want to move learning forward for children who asked questions and
demonstrated curiosity; they would not elicit children’s prior knowledge and
understanding; they would teach girls and boys separately to maintain a
manageable classroom and male teachers would teach the boys and female
teachers would teach the girls. They also thought it was entirely acceptable for
parents to withdraw their children from these lessons; the parents’ rights and
responsibilities came first.
8.2.5 Parents and teachers share attitudes about the purpose and teaching
of SRE
Parents and teacher groups both expressed anxieties about their own knowledge
and ability to transact sex and relationships education. Both groups also rooted
this lack of confidence in their own experiences within the education system (for
teachers this included their teacher training and ongoing professional
development) and in their upbringings. Despite this, participants in the parents’
groups expressed a high degree of both trust and confidence in their children’s
teachers.
357
The adults were happy to have gender stereotypes explored through SRE, but
there was no real discussion of the possibility of a significant disruption of
gendered or sexual power relations. As well as providing children with information
to enable them to navigate the social world, many of the adults regarded education
as a tool for reducing prejudice. Some, for example, likened homophobia to
racism, seeing both as unacceptable and a mindset that should and could be
challenged and undermined through SRE. They regarded words like gay and
lesbian as unpleasant when used as terms of abuse but did not take children’s
intent particularly seriously. They felt children did not really understand what they
were saying. They failed to recognise, as Stonewall’s surveys have repeatedly
demonstrated, the long-term consequences of this type of behaviour for all pupils
who suffer this kind of abuse, but particularly for those who come from LGBT+
families or self-identify as such (Guasp 2009, 2010, 2012, 2014). However, the
teachers did try to unpick what this kind of abuse really meant and grappled with
how to deal with it effectively.
There was overwhelming support for parents to be able to withdraw their children
from SRE; the only dissenter being Mrs Old. Most parents who supported the right
to withdraw did so because they thought it would make life easier for teachers. If
parents did not agree with what was being taught the way to avoid conflict was to
allow children to be removed from lessons. The teachers drew heavily on a
parents’ rights discourse. Even if they did not agree with parents’ views, it was
their right to decide what their children should learn in this context. Both parents
and adults agreed on this provision, despite presenting the counter argument that
those children most likely to be withdrawn were least likely to receive an equivalent
358
education at home. They also recognised the probability that children would hear
about the content of SRE lessons from peers and be exposed to all sort of other
information (often erroneous) from older siblings and children on the playground.
Repeatedly they put the rights of the parent above those of the child in terms of
SRE.
8.3 Impact on the school
In the two years following the focus group sessions I continued to at the school.
During that time, I saw a number of issues addressed in focus groups become
topics of discussion for the teachers of BCP. While the school’s written policies
around bullying and behaviour went unchanged, it was evident from conversations
in the staffroom and in corridors that teachers were considering their own practice
in a more reflective way. They often wondered aloud, in ways that they would not
have previously, about whether they had dealt with incidents of homophobic name
calling and sexual harassment in an effective manner. They seemed much less
eager to brush aside the use of the term ‘gay’. Some of the teachers began to
move away from using gender as an organisational tool and talked about a change
in the way they allocated tasks to children. These were not big institutional
changes, but they did reflect a raising of consciousness around issues of gender
inequality and reinforcing of stereotypes.
In addition to the established PSHE curriculum, the staff decided that the school
would go ahead and begin to introduce SRE for children throughout KS1 and KS2.
Rather than initially introducing SRE to every class, the plan was that it should be
359
retained in Years 5 and 6 and for it to be additionally introduced into KS1. The
teachers concluded that the best way forward would be for the teaching to be
introduced to each year group as the children moved up through school. As the
first group of Year 2 children to have received SRE moved into Year 3 the subject
would simultaneously be introduced to the Year 3 curriculum and so on as the
children moved through the school. The curriculum was based on The Christopher
Winter Project’s (2009) scheme of work, with minor adjustments to take account
of some of the teachers’ and parents’ concerns that had been expressed during
the focus group sessions, while providing an increased focus on gender and
sexual identity (for example, the term ‘gay’ was introduced to the children in Year
2 and same sex relationships were discussed when children explored different
types of families).
With the support of the headteacher and governors, the school began teaching
SRE to KS1 children in the summer term of 2013. By then, it was argued, teachers
would be aware of any issues they needed to take account of in their lessons and
they would have built solid relationships with parents. A letter was sent to parents
informing them that the school was about to start teaching SRE in KS1 and
outlining some of the key themes the unit of work would address. They were
invited to pose questions and given the option to request their children be removed
from lessons. The school did not seek permission to teach the subject as some
others in the area had previously done. In fact, few parents raised objections to
the curriculum. Some did ask about the content and mode of delivery of sessions
and in these instances the fears of most were allayed and children attended SRE
lessons. Nonetheless, a few children were withdrawn, including Mrs Paxton’s
360
children. Across the four KS1 classes, the school arranged alternative provision
for six children from four families. In line with the views expressed in the focus
groups, the school ensured that SRE took place in a regular slot each week and
that parents were informed what would be covered in each lesson so they could
then follow up on issues at home if they wanted to. In the first year of teaching
there were no complaints from parents and in the following years staff have
indicated a drop in the number of children withdrawn and a growing confidence
among teachers in the delivery of SRE lessons.
8.4 Implications for policy and practice
Adults’ opinion that parents should have the last say over whether or not their
children attend SRE lessons is currently being somewhat undermined with the
move toward statutory, renamed, Relationships Education in primary schools in
September 2020 (DfE 2018a). In its Changes to the teaching of Sex and
Relationships Education and PSHE document the DfE states:
We have committed to retaining a parent’s right to withdraw their child
from sex education within RSE (other than sex education in the
National Curriculum as part of science), but not from relationships
education at primary. This is because we believe parents should have
the right to teach sex education themselves in a way which is
consistent with their values. (DfE 2017; 5-6)
361
This is particularly significant in that this requirement will extend to academies,
free and faith schools.
This is an important shift in terms of the rights of children at primary level. It is,
however, the case that schools will have a potentially challenging web of statutory
relationships education and national curriculum science alongside non-statutory
PSHE and sex education to unravel. This may lead schools to be cautious and
refrain from any additional sex education. The acknowledgement by the adults in
this study that children are exploring and building their sexual identities, and are
gaining pleasure from their bodies, alongside what the children have articulated
about their own knowledge and understanding, suggests that this would represent
a significant and serious gap in children’s education.
The discourse of innocence and taboos around talking about sex in the public
sphere do a disservice to children. These serve to exclude them from “adult”
knowledge and perpetuate the view that any expression of sexuality is a sign of
abuse or promiscuity, especially when considering girls. This perpetuates a
situation where pleasure is denied, particularly for girls and LGBT+ pupils, and
where the double standard of ‘slags’ or ‘drags’ is institutionally applied to girls and
young women (Cowie and Lee 1981). The insistence on children’s naïvety means
that SRE is isolated from the rest of the curriculum and that information is provided
on a “need to know” basis. Following this model, children should only be taught if
they are curious, ask questions and are mature enough. There is a genuine
contradiction here; children who ask questions are sometimes seen as precocious
or provocative, and their curiosity not valued but dismissed as inappropriate.
362
Everything about this attitude to the teaching of SRE runs counter to the
educational philosophy of most teachers. This needs to be acknowledged and
addressed.
As others have asserted, schools need to examine their role in promoting a
heterosexual norm (for example, Davies 1989b, 1993; DePalma and Atkinson
2010; Alldred and David 2007; Renold 2005).
Both practice and curriculum
continually reinforce a gender binary that serves to homogenise girls and boys,
subordinate the feminine, and delineate LGBT+ adults and children as Other. This
continues despite rhetoric and legislation to combat prejudice and promote
equality. I argue, therefore, that the structure, routines and curriculum of schools
all need to be interrogated and reformed. Schools should, I propose, acknowledge
that children are actively engaged in constructing their own gender and sexual
identities and “sexual” relationships. They are also bullying one another, using
gender and sexuality as a basis for that abuse.
The requirement within the new Draft Guidance for schools to ‘ensure that the
policy meets the needs of pupil and parents and reflects the community they serve’
is in some ways problematic (DfE 2018a: 8). The assumption that ‘the community’
is easily defined, homogeneous, that it does not contain conflicting viewpoints and
that all members (including parents) are reasonable and well-informed is, perhaps,
misguided. This is not to say that a school’s community and parents are not
important, but that community wishes should not be a starting point. Rather, I
contend, policymakers, those who design the curriculum and schools need to start
with children.
363
I am convinced that, the school curriculum must start from the point of children’s
current lives rather than from a position of just preparing them for the “real” adult
lives that await them. To do this, teachers will need to elicit children’s knowledge,
understand and gather accounts of their experiences, and build from here rather
than from an abstract notion of what young children should be. I also propose that
there needs to be a significant shift in the tenor of SRE, encouraging children to
think critically and differently about identity relationships so that diversity becomes
both a genuine possibility and valued within the school community and beyond.
So too do schools need to question gender-based power relations that restrict the
lives of both girls and boys.
With this in mind, there is still much work to be done to understand the gendered
and sexual lives of young children. Further work, akin to that of Renold (2005),
employing an observational approach to uncover children’s gender and sexual
relationships would represent an important next step in this research.
Furthermore, a longitudinal study of the impact of the formulation of a programme
of study with a feminist social justice agenda, taking children’s lived experiences
and understandings as a starting point, would help us to understand the potential
for this kind of approach to teaching SRE in the primary school.
SRE of the type outlined above poses many challenges for schools and teachers.
Those that wish to take this approach need the support of parents and the ability
to elicit children’s understanding of gender and sexual identities, and their
experiences of gender power relationship dynamics. Given that, this research may
364
serve as a starting point for schools wishing to introduce a progressive, feminist
form of SRE. At BCP, speaking to the children provided a basis from which to work
when formulating an SRE curriculum and a justification for the inclusion of some
curriculum content. Using focus groups also allowed parents and teachers to
consider issues in new ways and collaboratively come to some consensus of the
ways forward for SRE at BCP. They began to open-up the possibilities for what
SRE could be.
365
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Appendices
Appendix 1: Transcript key
---
brief pause
//
when one speaker is interrupted by another
(comment)
additional information, e.g. body movements
???
inaudible
...
when material is edited out
italics
emphasis added to a word or phrase
“ . . .”
a quotation within a transcript
*****
the following transcript is from another part of the
interview or another focus group
434
Appendix 2: Ethics Approval Letter
435
Appendix 3: Letter to the Headteacher and Governors
Dear Headteacher and Governors,
I am writing to request your support for my Ph.D. research project entitled ‘Sex
and Relationship Education and Primary School Children’s Gendered Identities’.
Background
Currently the Sex and Relationship Education (SRE) programme of study is
under review, both within the school and at a national level. There is guidance
available to schools regarding the content of SRE, but this is less clear than in
other areas of the curriculum and non-statutory in nature.
The National Curriculum requires that over the course of children’s primary
school Science lessons they:
develop confidence in talking, listening and thinking about feelings and
relationships; are able to name parts of the body and describe how their bodies
work; can protect themselves and ask for help and support; and
are prepared for puberty (DFEE 2000:19).
Obviously there is more to SRE than this and the nuances of what is involved
and how it should be taught are complex. Furthermore, while guidance issued in
January 2010 advises schools to take into account cultural differences when
drawing-up a SRE scheme of work, it fails to account for children’s pre-existing
knowledge or their own gendered and sexual perceptions and behaviours. This
is unusual both in terms of the curriculum as a whole and surely necessary if
SRE is to be genuinely useful.
The Research Proposal
This research will help address a number of questions:
What do parents of Year 1 and 2 children want their children to be taught in
SRE?
What are teachers’ views of what is appropriate for this age group?
What prior knowledge do children bring to the classroom and what are their
perceptions of appropriate gender roles?
Any really useful and accepted SRE must take all of these viewpoints into
account – no easy task – and while traditionally teachers’ and parents’ positions
have been vocalized, and secondary pupil’s views sought out (for example via
the National Children’s Bureau, UK Youth Parliament and Brook Advisory
Service) it is rare to hear from such young children on the subject.
In order to elicit the perspectives of these groups it is proposed that a number of
focus groups be established in the school. I am proposing that teachers and
parents will form small groups to answer questions about and discuss their views
436
of SRE in general, and of a commercially produced SRE programme in
particular. Simultaneously small groups of children will be invited to discuss their
experiences and perceptions of relationships and gender roles both in and out of
school.
Participants will be recruited through the school on a voluntary basis, with
assurances of confidentiality and anonymity. All participants will have full
information regarding the purpose of the project, be given the opportunity to
withdraw from the process at any point and parental consent will be sought.
Finally all data will be retained securely until which time that it may be safely
destroyed.
The findings of this study should prove to be beneficial to the school and put
[The School] at the forefront in the delivery of a well-constructed and accepted
SRE programme for its KS1 children. Furthermore, these finding could have a
wider application in furthering our understanding of KS1 children’s perceptions of
gender and relationships both in and out of school and the development of a
widely acceptable and truly beneficial SRE programme for 5 – 7 year olds based
on children’s own prior knowledge and perceptions.
Thank you for considering my request and I hope that you will give it your full
support.
Regards,
Dr. Tracey Wire
437
Appendix 4: Initial Letter to Parents / Carers
Distributed on headed paper.
Dear Parent / Carer,
I am currently undertaking a Ph.D. research project looking at the ways Sex and
Relationship Education is taught and children’s understanding of what it means to
be a boy or girl. This research coincides with the school’s rewriting of its Sex and
Relationship Education lessons for Years 1 and 2.
We understand that this is an area of concern for many parents and would like to
give you and your son / daughter the opportunity to take part in research that
would help us to produce sets of lessons best suited to the children in our school.
Please complete the slip below to let us know if you would like more information
about this project or speak to me is you would like to discuss any questions you
may have.
Thank you for your support.
Regards,
Tracey Wire
Year 2 Teacher, PSHCE Support Co-ordinator
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------I would / would not be interested in receiving more information about the Sex
and Relationship Education Research Project.
Name of child ________________________
Class ____________
Name of Parent / Carer______________________________________
Signed ___________________________
Date ____________
438
Appendix 5: Parents’ Information Sheet
Information Sheet
(Parents)
Study Title: Sex and Relationship Education and Primary School Children’s Gendered
Identities
Aims of the Research
This research project has been established to examine a number of questions related to
the production of a programme of study in Sex and Relationship Education for Years 1
and 2 children. As part of the process I am hoping to ascertain the views of parents on
this matter.
The research is being undertaken for a Ph.D. project. As well as contributing to my
doctoral research it is hoped that the research will be of use to the school by making a
significant contribution to the school’s approach to teaching Sex and Relationship
Education.
Invitation
You are being invited to consider taking part in the research study ‘Sex and Relationship
Education and Primary School Children’s Gendered Identities’. This project is being undertaken
by Tracey Wire.
Before you decide whether or not you wish to take part, it is important for you to
understand why this research is being done and what it will involve. Please take time to
read this information carefully and discuss it with friends and relatives if you wish. Ask us
if there is anything that is unclear or if you would like more information.
Why have I been invited?
As a parent / carer of a KS1 child at the school your opinions and concerns regarding
your children’s educational needs are highly valued, as such you have been invited to
take part in this study.
Do I have to take part?
You are free to decide whether you wish to take part or not. If you do decide to take part
you will be asked to sign two consent forms. One is for you to keep and the other is for
our records. You are free to withdraw from this study at any time and without giving
reasons.
Please note that if you decide to take part you are not obliged in any way to give
permission for your child to participate in this study.
What will happen if I take part?
If you agree to take part you will be asked attend two focus group meetings in which
issues related to Sex and Relationship Education will be discussed.
If I take part, what do I have to do?
If you take part you will be asked to take part in an initial small group discussion
regarding your views on Sex and Relationship Education for children in Key Stage 1.
You will be asked to express your views on what you feel should and should not be
439
taught to children in this age group and to explain your opinions. This will occur within a
small group (5 or 6) of parents at the school. There will then be a follow-up meeting in
which you will be asked to look at and evaluate a commercially produced programme of
Sex and Relationship Education for this age group. Meetings will take place after
school, and will be 45 – 60 minutes long.
What are the benefits (if any) of taking part?
The main benefit of taking part is that you will have the opportunity to express your
views, to assess potential materials and to have your opinions taken into consideration
when the final plans for the Sex and Relationship Education study programme is drawn
up.
What are the risks (if any) of taking part?
There are no foreseeable risks in your participation in the research project.
I do however have to work within the confines of current legislation over such matters as
privacy and confidentiality, data protection and human rights and so offers of
confidentiality may sometimes be overridden by law. For example in circumstances
whereby I am made aware of future criminal activity, abuse either to yourself or another
(i.e. child or sexual abuse) or suicidal tendencies I must pass this information to the
relevant authorities.
How will information about me be used?
Discussions will be audio recorded, with additional notes being taken during discussion
sessions as a back-up. The data will help the school produce a programme of study in
Sex and Relationship Education for Years 1 and 2.
Who will have access to information about me?
At no time will you be identified by name, either within the school or within the final
research material. The researcher (Tracey Wire) will be the only person to retain such
information and in line with the Data Protection act will securely store any electronic
information on a password protected computer and memory stick, while any paperwork
related to the interviews will remain in a locked filing cabinet. This data will be retained
for at least five years and will eventually be securely disposed of.
Who is funding and organising the research?
This research has the support of the school and of Keele University. This is a selffunded PhD research project.
What if there is a problem?
If you have a concern about any aspect of this study, you may wish to speak to the
researcher(s) who will do their best to answer your questions you should contact Tracey
Wire on t.wire@ippm.keele.ac.uk. Alternatively, if you do not wish to contact the
researcher(s) you may contact Nicola Leighton, Research Governance Officer on 01782
733306 or n.leighton@uso.keele.ac.uk
If you remain unhappy about the research and/or wish to raise a complaint about any
aspect of the way that you have been approached or treated during the course of the
study please write to Nicola Leighton who is the University’s contact for complaints
regarding research at the following address:
Nicola Leighton
Research Governance Officer
Research & Enterprise Services
Dorothy Hodgkin Building
440
Keele University
ST5 5BG
E-mail: n.leighton@uso.keele.ac.uk
Tel: 01782 733306
How do I agree to take part?
Please complete the consent form below and return it directly to me (Tracey Wire), your
child’s class teacher or the school office.
Contact for further information
Tracey Wire at t.wire@ippm.keele.ac.uk.
441
Appendix 6: Teachers’ Information Sheet
Distributed on headed paper.
Dear
Sex and Relationship Education and Primary School Children’s Gendered
Identities
As you are aware, I am currently undertaking a Ph.D. research project looking at
the ways Sex and Relationship Education is taught and children’s understanding
and experiences of what it means to be a boy or girl. This research coincides with
the school’s rewriting of its Sex and Relationship Education lessons for Years 1
and 2.
I understand that this is an area that many people have strong views about, both
as parents and teachers, and would like to invite you to take part in the project.
Please read this information sheet carefully. Feel free to discuss this with friends
and relatives and should you have any questions please talk to me.
Information Sheet (Teachers)
Study Title: Sex and Relationship Education and Primary School Children’s
Gendered Identities
Aims of the Research
This research project has been established to examine a number of questions
related to the production of a programme of study in Sex and Relationship
Education for Years 1 and 2 children. As part of the process I am hoping to
ascertain the views of primary school teachers on this matter.
The research is being undertaken for a Ph.D. project. As well as contributing to
my doctoral research it is hoped that the research will be of use to the school by
making a significant contribution to the school’s approach to teaching Sex and
Relationship Education.
Invitation
You are being invited to consider taking part in the research study ‘Sex and
Relationship Education and Primary School Children’s Gendered Identities’. This
project is being undertaken by Tracey Wire.
Before you decide whether or not you wish to take part, it is important for you to
understand why this research is being done and what it will involve. Please take
time to read this information carefully and discuss it with friends and relatives if
442
you wish. Ask us if there is anything that is unclear or if you would like more
information.
Why have I been invited?
You have been invited to participate in this research because your views as a
teaching professional are valued in the school’s production of a Sex and
Relationship Education Scheme of work for Key Stage 1 children.
Do I have to take part?
You are free to decide whether you wish to take part or not. If you do decide to
take part you will be asked to sign two consent forms, one is for you to keep and
the other is for our records. You are free to withdraw from this study at any time
and without giving reasons.
What will happen if I take part?
If you agree to take part you will be asked attend two focus group meetings in
which issues related to Sex and Relationship Education will be discussed.
If I take part, what do I have to do?
If you take part you will be asked to take part in an initial small group discussion
regarding your views on Sex and Relationship Education for children in Key
Stage 1. You will be asked to express your views on what you feel should and
should not be taught to children in this age group and to explain your opinions.
This will occur within a small group of teachers at the school. There will then be
a follow-up meeting in which you will be asked to look at and evaluate a
commercially produced programme of Sex and Relationship Education for this
age group.
What are the benefits (if any) of taking part?
The main benefit of taking part is that you will have the opportunity to express
your views, to assess potential materials and to have your opinions taken into
consideration when the final plans for Sex and Relationship Education study
programme is drawn up.
What are the risks (if any) of taking part?
There are no foreseeable risks in your participation in the research project.
How will information about me be used?
Discussions will be audio recorded, with additional notes being taken during
discussion sessions as a back-up. The data will help the school produce a
programme of study in Sex and Relationship Education for Years 1 and 2.
Who will have access to information about me?
At no time will you be identified by name within the final research material. In line
with the Data Protection Act any electronic information will be stored on a
password protected computer and memory stick, while any paperwork related to
the interviews will remain in a locked filing cabinet. This data will be retained for
443
at least five years and will eventually be securely disposed of. However, you
should be aware that anonymity of responses cannot be guaranteed.
Who is funding and organising the research?
This research has the support of the school’s Headteacher and Governors, and
of Keele University and is funded by the researcher Tracey Wire.
What if there is a problem?
If you have a concern about any aspect of this study, you may wish to speak to
the researcher(s) who will do their best to answer your questions you should
contact Tracey Wire on t.wire@ippm.keele.ac.uk. Alternatively, if you do not wish
to contact the researcher(s) you may contact Nicola Leighton, Research
Governance Officer on 01782 733306 or n.leighton@uso.keele.ac.uk
If you remain unhappy about the research and/or wish to raise a complaint about
any aspect of the way that you have been approached or treated during the course
of the study please write to Nicola Leighton who is the University’s contact for
complaints regarding research at the following address:
Nicola Leighton
Research Governance Officer
Research & Enterprise Services
Dorothy Hodgkin Building
Keele University
ST5 5BG
E-mail: n.leighton@uso.keele.ac.uk
Tel: 01782 733306
Contact for further information
Tracey Wire at t.wire@ippm.keele.ac.uk.
444
Appendix 7: Teachers and Parents’ Consent Forms
445
446
Appendix 8: Information Sheet for Parents of Child Participants
Information Sheet
(For parents of child participants)
Study Title: Sex and Relationship Education and Primary School Children’s Gendered
Identities
Aims of the Research
This research project has been set up to look a number of questions related to the way
Sex and Relationship Education is taught in Years 1 and 2. As part of the process I am
hoping to uncover children’s understanding of what it is to be a boy / girl, man / woman
and of the relationships they see everyday, both in and out of school.
As well as contributing to the school’s approach to teaching Sex and Relationship
Education, the research undertaken will form the basis of a PhD research project on the
subject.
Invitation
Your child is being invited to take part in the research study ‘Sex and Relationship Education
and Primary School Children’s Gendered Identities’. This project is being undertaken by
Tracey Wire.
Before you decide whether or not you wish your child to take part, it is important for you
to understand why this research is being done and what it will involve. Please take time
to read this information carefully and discuss it with friends and relatives if you wish. Ask
us if there is anything that is unclear or if you would like more information.
Why has your child been invited?
Your son / daughter has been chosen to participate in this research because as a child
in Key Stage 1 their understanding of the world around them is important when
considering what and how they should be taught.
Does my child have to take part?
You are free to decide whether you wish your child to take part or not. If you do decide
they can take part you will be asked to sign two consent forms. One is for you to keep
and the other is for our records. You are free to withdraw your consent for this study at
any time and without giving reasons. Your child will also be free to withdraw from the
research at any time.
What will happen if my child takes part?
If you agree for your child to take part they will be asked come to with other children to
two focus group meetings. The focus groups will consist of 4 – 6 children who will be
asked to talk about their experiences and understandings for 30 – 45 minutes. These
discussions will take place during school time while the remainder of their classes will
continue with their usual lessons / assemblies.
If your child takes part, what will she / he have to do?
If your son / daughter takes part they will be asked to take part in small group
discussions about what it means to them to be a girl / boy, man / woman. The
discussions will focus on the classroom, playground and family relationships. Initially the
discussions will take place in single-sex groups, with follow-up groups of mixed girls and
boys.
447
What are the benefits (if any) of taking part?
The main benefit for them taking part is that in the production of the school’s programme
of Sex and Relationship Education teachers will be able to take into consideration the
way your child views the world, their understanding of everyday situations and friend /
family relationships.
What are the risks (if any) of taking part?
There are no foreseeable risks in your child’s participation in the research project.
I do however have to work within the confines of current legislation over such matters as
privacy and confidentiality, data protection and human rights and so offers of
confidentiality may sometimes be overridden by law. For example in circumstances
whereby I am made aware of future criminal activity, abuse either to yourself or another
(i.e. child or sexual abuse) or suicidal tendencies I must pass this information to the
relevant authorities.
Should your child become distressed in any way by participation in the study there are a
number of places you can go for support. Rachel Dyer (The School’s Family Liaison
Officer) will be happy to speak to you and your child should you be concerned. If you
prefer to go outside if the school you may wish to contact for support:
Childline:
0800 1111
NSPCC:
0800 800 5000
How will information about my child be used?
Discussions will be audio recorded, with additional notes being taken during discussion
sessions as a back-up. The data will then be used to help the school produce a
programme of study in Sex and Relationship Education for Years 1 and 2 children.
Who will have access to information about my child?
At no time will your child be identified by name, either within the school or within the final
research material. The researcher (Tracey Wire) will be the only person to retain such
information and in line with the Data Protection act will securely store any electronic
information on a password protected computer and memory stick, while any paperwork
related to the interviews will remain in a locked filing cabinet. This data will be retained
for at least five years and will eventually be securely disposed of.
Who is funding and organising the research?
This research has the support of the school’s Headteacher and Governors, and of Keele
University. This is a self-funded PhD research project.
What if there is a problem?
If you have a concern about any aspect of this study, you may wish to speak to the
researcher(s) who will do their best to answer your questions you should contact Tracey
Wire on t.wire@ippm.keele.ac.uk. Alternatively, if you do not wish to contact the
researcher(s) you may contact Nicola Leighton, Research Governance Officer on 01782
733306 or n.leighton@uso.keele.ac.uk
If you remain unhappy about the research and/or wish to raise a complaint about any
aspect of the way that you have been approached or treated during the course of the
study please write to Nicola Leighton who is the University’s contact for complaints
regarding research at the following address:
Nicola Leighton
Research Governance Officer
448
Research & Enterprise Services
Dorothy Hodgkin Building
Keele University
ST5 5BG
E-mail: n.leighton@uso.keele.ac.uk
Tel: 01782 733306
How do I agree for my child to take part?
Please complete the consent form below and return it directly to me (Tracey Wire), your
child’s class teacher or the school office.
Contact for further information
Tracey Wire at t.wire@ippm.keele.ac.uk.
449
Appendix 9: Consent form for parents of child participants
450
451
Appendix 10: Children’s Information Sheet and Consent Form
Dear
At the moment we are thinking about the ways to make your Personal, Social and
Health Education (PSHCE) lessons even better for you and would like your help to
make this happen.
I am going to talk to small groups of Year 1 and 2 children about what it’s like to be a
boy or a girl and what they think it’s like to be a man or a woman. I will also be talking to
children about their families.
Your parents have given permission for you to be one of the children who take part, but
you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Also, if you decide you do want to take part but
then change your mind about it, then that’s all right too.
If you decide you’d like to talk to me about these things, then we will get together in a
small group. The first time it will be just boys / girls, and the second time it will be both
boys and girls. I will ask you some questions and you will be able to talk with your
friends about what you think. I will record what you say so that I don’t forget.
When I write and talk about what we have spoken about in our group I won’t mention
anyone’s names. This is called keeping information confidential.
Eventually the things you tell me will help us write some new PSHCE lessons for you
and will hopefully help me finish some research (finding out information) that I have
been doing about Key Stage 1 children and the things they are taught.
If you would be happy to help me with this then fill in the slip below.
Thank you,
Miss Wire
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Name __________________________________
Signed __________________________________
Date _________________________
452
Appendix 11: Focus group activities and composition
Teachers: Round 1
Mind maps, topic prompt cards and discussion
Focus Group 1
Focus Group 2
Sarah Moore, Kate
Robert Marshall,
Macintyre, John Drake,
Lauren Young,
Nigel Hall, Jenna Blake
Josephine Olde,
Rose Garrow
Focus Group 3
Mark Mayall, Judith
Harvey, Judith Brown,
Lizzy Peake, Hazel
Thomson, Thea
Redfearne
Teachers: Round 2
Review of Christopher Winter Schemes of Work, viewed All About Us: Living
and Growing DVD and discussion
Focus Group 1
Focus Group 2
Focus Group 3
Robert Marshall, Nigel Hall, Mark Mayall, Hazel
Lizzy Peake, Judith
Lauren Young, Judith
Thomson, John
Harvey, Rose Garrow
Brown, Kate Macintyre
Drake, Jenna Blake
Parents: Round 1
Topic prompt cards and discussion
Focus Group 1
Focus Group 2
Focus Group 3
Bella Fellowes, Michelle
Oliver Egan, Robert Siobhan Franklin, Jean
Thomas, Alicia Knight
Heymann,
Paxton, Maggie Friend,
Stephanie Ling,
Dawn Winston
Hugh Ling, Eleanor
Kennedy, Christie
Waites, Bev Gage
Parents: Round 2
Review of Christopher Winter Schemes of Work, viewed All About Us: Living
and Growing DVD and discussion
Focus Group 1
Focus Group 2
Focus Group 3
Maggie Friend, Bella
Stephanie Ling,
Siobhan Franklin, Jean
Fellowes, Christie Waites
Hugh Ling, Robert
Paxton, Dawn Winston,
Heymann, Oliver
Michelle Thomas
Egan
Children: Round 1
Family drawings and discussion
Focus Group 1 (Year 1)
Focus Group 2
Focus Group 3 (Year 2)
Eliza, Matty, William, John (Year 2)
Alan, Mick, Jeremy,
Rosetta, Elizabeth,
Bobby, Nick, Fred
Charlotte, Emily,
Rhianna, Sophie
Children: Round 2
Discussion
Focus Group 1 (Year 1)
Focus Group 2
Focus Group 3 (Year 2)
Christopher, Eliza, Matty,
(Year 2)
Rosetta, Elizabeth, Fred,
William, John
Mick, Rhianna,
Nick
Bobby, Jeremy,
Sophie
453
Appendices 12a-12o: Children’s Drawings
Appendix 12a
454
Appendix 12b
455
Appendix 12c
456
Appendix 12d
457
Appendix 12e
458
Appendix 12f
459
Appendix 12g
460
Appendix 12h
461
Appendix 12i
462
Appendix 12j
463
Appendix 12k
464
Appendix 12l
465
Appendix 12m
466
Appendix 12n
467
Appendix 12o
468