In middle school we got to watch a tasteful and informative series of sex education videos with our pretty young teacher Mrs Wood. At the end of the first video, which we had sat and watched quietly without giggling or crying, she asked 'Now, are there any questions?'. One young boy stuck up his hand and in an earnest and fearful voice asked 'Miss, what's a rainbow kiss?'.

Advanced sex-ed some years later included the question to the normally benign Mr Slater (who was meant to be a physics teacher anyway), "Sir, what about gayness?" "We're not going to talk about that." "Why not?" "Because it's disgusting." Pre clause 28, as well. Still, at least now we knew for definite.

We'd got through our sex education class with a minimum of sniggering and embarrasment, and Mr Norton asked the class if anyone had any questions. Adrian May stuck his hand up and said, 'Sir, where's my sperms? I've been looking everywhere, but I don't seem to have any yet.' Mr Norton started to the rub the back of his neck (his own, not Adrian's) and managed to stutter something out about different rates of development.

We had a teacher called Mr Roberts, who had a really gay voice. In our sex education lessons we were giggling at the word vagina. His response - "Well you wouldn't make very good doctors would you - what would you do if I came into your surgery and said 'Doctor, there's something wrong with my vagina'?". Sometimes people just ask for it.

In our class, a boy called Adam Russell stood up and asked the teacher, "What if you pissed while you were having sex?" and was told that it was impossible. He dragged this on for about 5 whole minutes, saying "But what if you REALLY needed to go?" and "Would you make a pissy baby?"

During a Q & A session, someone asked about what was with being a big gay homosexual. We were treated to a fairly bizarre (and entirely with Clause 28) explanation that gays are really just boys who have never grown up and learned to fancy girls like proper men, and are thus retarded.
(I've met hundreds of these so-called "gays", and I can only agree with your teacher - Log)

I had a fucked up sex education thanks to a junior school teacher called Mr. Beech. He jiggled a lot when talking to us and used to suck yoghurt off his little finger on the swimming bus. Sex was brought into every possible subject. Gems from his time teaching me include...
'Obviously Joseph was very annoyed with Mary because she had had sexual intercourse with someone else.'
'When you grow up are you going to marry Johnny and have lots of little Johnnies?'
'Would you rather live with me or marry Richard and live with him on an island forever?' (I chose Richard quite obviously.)
'Flowers pollinate each other, bit like sex.'
'Everyone choose an organ of the body to draw. Choose sexual organs if you like. Do you want to draw a penis, David? That's ok if you do.' (Predictably, every boy drew a huge cock. The classroom displays looked great for parents' evening.)
'I've noticed no-one in the class can draw peoples legs. Let me demonstrate.' (Here follows an hour long lesson on how to draw the bulge in a mans trousers.)

On one memorable occasion two people from the class were made to put on their PE kit, lie on the floor and be drawn around. Yes, one was me, and no, I don't know why we had to be in our PE kit. When we had satisfactory outlines we were told to draw all the 'outside bits' on and label with any slang words we could think of. What resulted was a scary mix of a young childs outline, huge tits (drawn by the lads)and pubic hair that was quite frankly out of control.
Shortly afterwards he was given a watch and 'asked' to retire.

One young woman of barely fifteen raised her hand during a Q&A session to clarify the sucrose qualities of sperm by asking, "So why does it taste so salty?"
A council flat and child benefit beckoned.
(A schoolma'amish anonymous user writes... Deary me, you've not been doing your homework properly have you? If you keep this up you'll never amount to anything. Thank you, anonymous user. We rely on your vigilance. - Log)

is it just me, or is this place turning into an online version of "call my bluff"?

In the 7th grade, our provincial government decreed that even Catholic schoolkids should be taught about sex.
So as not to outrage our parents too deeply, our Principle explained what the format would be: boys and girls would be separated, and taught the bare minimum required to stick it in and make babies.
I never saw the girls' sessions, but our sex education was kicked off with and awkward female teacher coming out with this;
"Now, I don't want anyone to be embarrassed. If you have any questions, just come out with them. Say, for instance, you notice that I'm wearing a white dress, and there is a red stain below my stomach, you should ask me about it."
Thirteen 11-year-old boys were left wondering "what the HELL is she talking about?"

Unleashing the knowledge on one hundred twelve year old boys that girls bled out of their fannies was bad enough.
But to tell them it was meant to happen and that it would happen for the rest of their lives really fucked with the minds of boys just starting to want to faff around down there, and set boy/girl diplomacy back several years.

As a means of "getting the immaturity out of the way", on the first day of our sex education, all the boys were told to write every word they knew for 'vagina' on the black board. Out came bearded clam, hairy axe wound et al. Then all the girls were asked to write every word they knew for 'penis'. Unfortunately, they were all too shy.
So Mr. Scandrett, in his infinite wisdom, decided that the boys should just go ahead and write all the words they knew for 'penis'. Cue shrieks of embarrassment from the girls, culminating in one of the more sensitive ones suddenly running out of class, crying.
The name that set her off? - 'purple-headed custard chucker', which was then shouted at her at random moments throughout the rest of the year.

During the sex education class in which all methods of contraception were explained and demonstrated, our MALE teacher squatted, knees apart, and held a diaphragm beneath his undercarriage to show all the girls just what laid in store for them. "I've never had to do it!" he joked, to which I replied "Yeah, right, sir!"

I regretted my heckle when he said "Come here, you, and be my vagina."

So, I was forced to stand before the class and make a ring with my hand, while the teacher inserted a coil between my fingers and explained its intricacies.

Sometimes I lie awake crying, just thinking about it.