Eleven-year-old Elsie Parker knows more about puberty than most of the students in her fifth-grade class in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Not that she’s gone through it yet—but her parents have enrolled her in an affirming and inclusive puberty class through their Unitarian Universalist (UU) congregation. Elsie has therefore already discussed things like pimples, periods, and the difference between sex and gender (though she already knew the last because of her trans dad and bi mom). It’s awkward, but she finds it interesting and perhaps even helpful. Her public school classmates, however, only bring up puberty-related topics as a way to make fun of someone.
When others in her school learn that she’s taking a puberty class, they therefore tease her—but then, one of Elsie’s classmates slips a note into her locker with a question about puberty. Elsie realizes that her peers, too, are seeking answers about puberty, but don’t know where to go. The one-hour video about puberty that their school health class will show at the end of the year is clearly too late and too brief. Elsie therefore launches an anonymous advice service through a whiteboard on her locker, and uses her knowledge from the UU class, plus research in some books her parents provided, to offer answers.
When school administrators find out about her service, however, they aren’t as happy that she’s sharing this information. Mostly, they seem concerned about parents who “have not consented to that type of discussion yet,” and Elsie begins to suspect that they are particularly concerned about LGBTQ-related topics—though she knows there are students in her class who would benefit from this information. But how much can Elsie push things without getting into the kind of trouble that would ruin her admission to a prestigious middle school?
While she’s trying to find a way forward (with a little help from Nate, the friend of her parents who donated the sperm to create her), she is also navigating her own crush on a girl in her class, and a shifting relationship with her best friend from childhood. Without spoiling too much of the ending, I’ll say that the solution lies in collective action, making this not only the story of one student’s growth, but a lively and timely tale of how kids can create change. (This is why I’ve included some books on the topic of queer kids creating change, along with some books about puberty, in the “You may also like…” suggestions below.)
Elsie’s relationship with her crush is sweet and feels perfectly handled for her age and point of development. I also like that her relationship with Nate is a supplement to, but not a replacement for, her relationship with her parents. Both are supportive in different ways.
A few of Elsie’s arguments for why broader puberty education is needed feel ever so slightly stilted, like talking points from others who have written on the topic. I say that, however, after just having read and reviewed The Period and Puberty Parenting Revolution, which makes many of the same points in a non-fiction book aimed at adults. These points may feel more original and fresh to younger readers—and maybe I’m not giving today’s young people enough credit for being able to voice such arguments themselves.
Make no mistake, though: These arguments are vital, for as Elsie says, “There’s so much happening with our bodies and our feelings,” and schools are by and large not helping students to understand them. Debut author Ari Koontz has created an important, timely, and recommended story that just might help young people to understand why talking about puberty shouldn’t be gross or embarrassing, and how they themselves could become activists for more widespread and inclusive puberty education.
Elsie is White; her best friend is Latina and her crush is of Pakistani and Egyptian heritage.
