“I always hated the speeches when I was in school, the preaching in auditoriums, the one-note message.
Stuff like saying drugs are bad. It’s wrong. Drugs are fantastic.”
“Um,” Fox-mask said.
Mrs. Yamada was glaring at me, but she hadn’t interrupted.
“People wouldn’t do them if they weren’t. They make you feel good, make your day brighter, give you
energy-”
“Weaver,” Mrs. Yamada cut in.
“-until they don’t,” I said. “People hear the message that drugs are bad, that they’ll ruin your life if you
do them once. And then you find out that isn’t exactly true because your friends did it and turned out
okay, or you wind up trying something and you’re fine. So you try them, try them again. It isn’t a
mind-shattering moment of horrible when you try that first drug. Or so I hear. It’s subtle, it creeps up
on you, and you never really get a good, convincing reason to stop before it ruins your life beyond
comprehension. I never went down that road, but I knew a fair number of people who did. People who
worked for me, when I was a supervillain.”
I had their attention now, at least.

Yes. We should absolutely tell kids that drugs are fun. Along with all the rest. DARE programs are linked with higher drug usage, because they lie and keep the truth from kids, and they kids test what they were taught, find out it was lies, and don’t trust anything else from the program. Hiding reality from people does not make them better equipped for reality.