When I was a teenager in the Fifties, very few young girls were sexually active or fell pregnant and, of those who did, suicide was a common ‘solution”. I fell pregnant at the age of 19 and the reaction from my family pushed me to the point where suicide was something I considered as a means of escape.
Things are different today. News-papers report that schoolgirl pregnancies are on the increase. More often than not the father of the child is a ‘sugar daddy” and, needless to say, he is not around when the baby arrives. What he enjoyed was little more than transactional sex. The inexperienced girls are easy prey; they exchange short-term pleasure for long-term disaster — for themselves and a child born into poverty.
How can educators and parents protect schoolgirls from themselves? There is talk of a new moral regeneration drive. If you recall, the last one was led by Jacob Zuma, a man who caused more confusion about sexual issues than he offered guidance. (One educator I spoke to recently said that his learners still believed that a shower is an effective preventative measure against HIV.)
I am convinced that educators and parents can play a key role in turning the tide. First, we have the advantage of being in the same homes and in the same schools as our learners and children. Of course we have to face the fact that, so far, this has not made any difference.
Is it because we do not know what is going on in our children’s minds and that we do not know if they are sexually active or not? Or, if we know that they are sexually active, we feel unable to reverse the situation?
I clearly remember one of my daughters, as a schoolgirl in grade 11, asking about contraception. I secretly congratulated myself on being the kind of mother my daughter could talk to openly about sexual issues.
Little did I know that she had been sexually active for some time and the advice I was giving her could have been too late. I had the added advantage of being her English teacher that year and also was involved in drama and debating in which she participated. And yet I still was not reaching her.
I remember being a troubled 14-year-old myself. About that time I discovered that when I went to town, married men would look at me with appreciation even though they were with their wives. I admit I found this quite heady. It gave me a sense of power.
At that time an older man of 27 fancied me and one night, after a church social, he stopped his old truck a short distance from my house and broached the subject of saving my soul — with his arm around me. Although he did not dare to go further, I was confused and upset.
I did not even consider talking to my mother about this incident. In desperation I considered other people I could talk to. My friend’s mother came to mind as ‘a sympathetic ear”, but it was just a comforting idea, not a feasible plan. Later this man’s attentions became a feather in my cap because my friends were impressed that a grown man found me attractive. It was not the healthiest outcome. At 14 I was becoming sexually aware, but it was a muddle-headed path I followed. Now, that path is often fraught with danger and tragedy.
Why am I telling you all this? Why am I disclosing personal experiences and delving into my own past. I think if we look at our own experiences, as teenagers, we will be better able to understand the difficulties our children face as well as the shifts that have occurred in society over time and we will realise the need to communicate effectively with our learners and children. And to listen to them.
A recent survey conducted by the Kaiser Family Foundation and the South African Broadcasting Corporation, which involved nearly 4 000 young people between 15 and 24, disclosed that young people would like to talk openly to parents about sexual issues.
There is an important corollary to this process. People will talk openly only if they know the recipient is listening. I had no idea, even though I was a high-school teacher for 26 years, that listening is an art that can be learned. I know I could have been much more effective as an educator had I known more about the art of listening. Authors such as Adam Kahane (Solving Tough Problems), Jack Zimmerman (The Way of Council) and Nancy Kline (Time to Think) show what good listening skills can achieve. Each of these writers is worth delving into in subsequent articles in the Teacher.
At this point, I hope I have managed to wet your appetite. A sneak preview is that when you listen you must do so from the heart and you must allow the speaker to speak without interruption. A miracle can occur for the speaker when you remain silent. The person searching for a solution, enabled by the attention you are giving him or her, quite often results in a satisfactory way of dealing with the problem without your assistance. You have been the silent catalyst allowing the person to grapple with and explore the situation until a solution evolved.
Joan Dommisse is an HIV/Aids educator. Contact her on [email protected]