Why health education belongs in our classrooms

Across Pakistan, children are growing up with questions they don't know how to ask — and when they do ask, they're often met with silence, nervous laughter, or a quick change of subject. Some questions are whispered among friends in school corridors. Some are typed quietly into search bars at night. But the truth is, the questions are always there. And the longer we ignore them, the more likely our children are to find answers in all the wrong places.

It's easy to say a child is "too young" to know something. But the reality is, many are already finding out — through social media, peers, or internet algorithms that don't ask for parental consent or cultural context. When schools don't teach them, when parents don't talk to them, children don't stop being curious. They just go looking. And on the internet, what they find can range from confusing to dangerous.

There's no shortage of videos, memes, and influencers willing to explain the world to them — often in ways that are inaccurate, sensationalized, or even predatory. A child trying to understand changes in their body may end up on content designed for adults. A teenager trying to learn about emotional relationships may stumble into forums or DMs that exploit their confusion. These aren't hypotheticals — they are happening every day, in every city, on every smartphone.

This is why health education in schools is no longer optional. It's necessary.

When we talk about health education, especially around puberty, reproduction, and emotional wellbeing, we're not talking about anything inappropriate. We're talking about facts — about helping children understand themselves before the world teaches them the wrong lessons. It's about giving a girl the confidence to know her first period is normal, not shameful. It's about giving a boy the language to talk about feelings without fear. It's about letting every child know that their body belongs to them, and that they have the right to speak up if something feels wrong.

There is a quiet kind of strength in giving a child knowledge. It doesn't encourage behavior — it encourages understanding. When a child knows the proper names for their body parts, understands boundaries, and can recognize signs of harm or abuse, they are safer. Not just in their own homes or classrooms, but in the wider world that's becoming harder and harder to control.

The reality is that children are growing up faster than ever. They are more connected, more exposed, and more influenced by what they see and hear online. But their emotional development is still fragile. They need guidance — gentle, accurate, respectful guidance — delivered in an environment of trust.

This isn't about introducing complicated new subjects into the curriculum. Health education can easily be integrated into what is already taught. It can be done in a way that reflects our cultural values and sensitivities. Other Muslim-majority countries have done it — quietly, respectfully, and effectively. It's not about pushing boundaries. It's about protecting them.

There's a difference between innocence and ignorance. We must preserve the innocence of childhood — but that doesn't mean keeping children in the dark. It means giving them just enough light to see where they're going. To understand the changes happening inside them. To respect themselves and others. To ask questions without fear, and to know they deserve answers that are true.

Parents want what's best for their children. So do teachers. But we must stop expecting these conversations to happen behind closed doors if we've never created a safe space for them. Schools can offer that space — structured, age-appropriate, and guided by trained educators. When done properly, health education doesn't undermine family values. It strengthens them.