Because She Didn't Know

Her answer was so honest and simple,
but brought deep sadness to my heart.

One of my seventh grade students sat in front of me and,
as my students often do,
filled me in on the recent events of her life.

"I'm going to see an orthodontist next week," 
she relayed suddenly in the middle of her lesson.
  
"You are?" I asked. "What for? Are you getting braces?"

"I don't know, maybe," she answered quietly.
With exposed insecurity,
she dropped her head
and added softly with a shrug,
"I might get them. I don't know if my teeth look bad or not." 
I noted the self-conscious brush of her hand to her face,
in an effort to hide her perfectly normal, adorable mouth.

I winced at her comment---
not at the question of whether or not
she medically needed orthodontics---

but at her seventh grade awareness and doubt of whether she looked "bad or not."
Unable to sift through all the pressures of how a girl is "supposed" to look,
she could not even look in the mirror and decide for herself,
so someone else would be taking on the task of grading her aesthetics.

As her teacher, one who vividly remembers bearing the weight of others' expectations,
I easily recognized that whatever assessment she receives at her consultation
will become how she assesses herself, as well.

Medical or anatomical issues aside,

I hate that she has learned life's destructive lesson that---
not only is a particular look implied for her
hair,
face,
nose,
eyes,
eyelashes,
lips,
skin,
cheekbones,
height,
weight,
and every single body part---

but also for something as expressive, personal, and purely genuine as her smile.
I ache that she has learned to regard her own worth as dependent
upon the grading system of her current society.
I hurt knowing, first-hand,
that the process of learning to deal with those standards
often gets worse before it gets better.

On the outside, I answered her strongly,
"Whether you get braces or not, your teeth absolutely do not look bad. 
Your smile will be beautiful either way."

The corners of her mouth slightly tilted back up as she shyly giggled "thanks,"
and I smiled at her innocence.

But on the inside,

my heart cried.