Dear Diary,
Some time my best intentions get me into doing things I'd rather not do. Like teach a class on self esteem to 30 fourth through 6th graders. It seems that at our neighborhood elementary school we have children who are actually suffering from low self esteem. I don't recall suffering from low self esteem until I was in the 8th grade. If I had not been so immature I might have suffered earlier in life because looking back at the family pictures you could open a soda bottle with my front teeth and my momma pulled my hair back so tight my eyes slanted and my nostrils flared. But back then models and beautiful young actresses where not on the covers of every magazine and on TV. The models I remember seeing where in the Sears or Penny's catalog and they were really nothing to aspire to.
My good friend that is the social worker/councilor got a grant for this 6 week after school girls' club. One of the planned activities is a collage. That's where I come in. I thought it would be fun and oh so symbolic to make a collage similar to the one below but with more one sentence journaling. I'm still working on the idea but the collage will fold in like a book and will be tied together by ribbon. The outside theme will be the beauty around us and the inside theme is the beauty within us. As for our little "talk" with the girls - What do I say? I ran a few things by my friend but I couldn't recite them with out pursing my lips while I talked in a high pitched womanly tone. She didn't think many of my ideas were appropriate for the age group and decided that she would do the talking if I would lead the craft.
When I was in college there were a group of girls on campus that were on the "Modeling Squad". These girls always looked so nice! Their hair, make up and outfits were always perfect. The modeling squad where never seen without pantyhose, heels and matching assessories. You would never see one alone. They traveled in a pack. I think because they made a bigger impression that way. A couple of other things set them apart from the rest of us girls - they never wore their pajamas in public and never rolled into class smelling like stale beer and cigarettes. Their teacher was tall, thin and dressed elegantly. Her hair, a perfect shade of red, looked as if she went to the beauty shop every day instead of once a week. She greeted the public with a parade wave and a huge smile. Thinking about it now, I kind of recall that years after I graduated she was involved in some sort of shop lifting scandal. I'll have to find out more about that.
