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Commentaries: Clueless in South Minneapolis

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When I wrote about sex education -- or the lack of it -- last week, it triggered a long-lost memory of the cold winter Saturday my mother decided to tell my sister and me about the birds and bees. I was in fifth grade and my sister was in fourth. The need to educate us in this area must have been on Mom's mind awhile because when she hollered up the stairs for us to come to the kitchen immediately, she'd already stacked a pile of books on the gray Formica table.

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