Is It Me?

She handed them each a pair of scissors. “Today, we are going to do a different kind of self portrait. I want you all to find an inspirational quote out of the pile of quotes I gathered and use a pair of scissors to cut out the one that you feel best describes you.”

The at-risk youth gather scissors and hunt for words to inspire them.

When each of them has cut out a quote, the instructor hands them a piece of paper that has a long rectangle on it and has been split down the middle. “Considering the quote you chose, I want you each to take the piece of paper and on one side, draw a self-portrait. You can use markers, colored pencils, paint pens, acrylic paint, whatever you wish to do the self-portrait, but it has to reference or reflect the quote in some way.”

“What do you mean?” A teenage girl with black hair lays her head on her hands and scoots her chair away from the edge of the table. “I’m terrible at drawing, I can’t do this.”

The instructor picks up her quote. “I can’t tell if it’s killing me or making me stronger.”

The girl looks up from her hands. “What?” She squints her eyes and waits for the instructor to explain.

“Your quote. It seems very appropriate for the situation, don’t you think?” The instructor smiles at her and hands her back the cut-out. “Do you have to complain every week? I know you don’t want to be here, but it’s part of your diversion, so let’s make the best of it, shall we?”

The girl slams her hand on the table, crushing the quote under her palm and sliding her hand away from the paper leaving a crumpled mass behind her as she heads to the art supplies to grab some markers. “I guess it makes sense,” she says, dragging her feet and slumping back down into her chair.

The children draw themselves for fifteen minutes.

“Miss A, do we do anything with the other side?” A teenage boy asks as he finishes writing the word KORN across his left cheek.

“If most of you are finished, I invite you to swap with another person who is done with their first side as well.” Miss A looks around the room and laughs when she is met with gaping mouths and slack arms. “It is going to be fine, just switch with another person who is done.”

The children finish their first sides and switch with each other groaning and grunting disapproval.

“Okay, now that you all have a portrait that is not your own, I want you to finish your partner’s self-portrait, however I want you to do so considering how you view them, rather than based on the quote your partner picked. You do not need to draw a traditional self-portrait; try to be insightful. Draw their characteristic attitude or symbols for their eyes, nose, and mouth that stand for their values.” Miss A took out an example showing a girl with long brown hair on one side crying and on the other a face covered in flowers. “Once we complete the project, we will collage them together.”

“Collage? What’s a collage?” the teenage boy asked as he drew a giant black 'x' on the mouth of the girl he was drawing.

“It’s a group of images and pictures that you overlap with each other to make a larger picture, image, or collaborated idea . . . what are you doing to her mouth?” Miss A, turned the portrait toward her for a better look.

“Well, she like, never talks, so, I drew an 'x' to show that she is silent.” The teenage boy took the portrait back.

Miss A directed her attention back to all the children. “I have to specify that when you are drawing the portraits for your partners, you need to incorporate at least two positive things into the portrait. Remember, we work on mindfulness in here. I invite you all to be mindful of how your view of your partner could affect them in review. I want you to be honest, but be respectful.”

“If I am done, what do I do?” another teenage girl with blonde hair twisted into a loose bun tapped Miss A on the shoulder. She was holding an image of a tanned girl with dark black hair and red dyed tips. The two sides looked nearly identical, except that on one side the girl looked taller, happier, glowing.

“Which of these did you draw?” Miss A pointed to the picture in the blonde girl’s hands.

“Um, the one on the right.” The blonde girl smiled at her portrait. “I usually don’t draw very good, but I just tried to copy what she did on the left.”

“You did try, and in the end, do you see the differences?” Miss A beamed at her and patted her shoulder. “It’s perfect.” She directed her voice back to the others in the room. “You can use the scissors or just rip some images or other quotes from magazine articles and add your portrait, quote, and inspirational images to the three black posters I laid across the table in the back.” Miss A pointed to the table where the three pieces of tagboard were lined side by side. She patted the girl on the arm and indicated the magazines and scissors lying in a pile at the end of the table.

Soon the room was filled with the sounds of ripping, tearing, and cutting. Children were chattering, and children were laughing. But the best sound of all was when the quiet, meek, blonde girl, who had drawn a picture of herself with stringy hair and pale skin, gasped at the sight of her finished portrait. “Is that me?” she implored, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Yes, it’s you.” Miss A said, smiling.

“I—It’s beautiful!” the blonde girl said without taking her eyes off the picture.

Across the room, Miss A saw brown eyes dart up from the magazine at the sound of the exclamation, and the faintest smile cross the lips of a girl who had just realized what she had given someone else.