For weeks after September 11th, the city was covered in flyers for missing loved ones. Everywhere you turned, there were these faces and eyes staring back at you.
"Have you seen me?"
It was as if the city itself was turned into a gigantic yearbook for World Trade Center Employees. Around every corner, another missing face, another wish for hope.
Another wish, not granted.
Last week in class, a few young girls were openly bemoaning their personal appearances, thus initiating a discussion about beauty and industry. Many of these women are models in their homelands, but still the general apprehension exists. Somewhere in the back of their minds they suspect that there is something to be changed, something that could be fixed.
Something to make them a little more �just right�.
It�s so hard to clear up that sense of self-doubt that exists in almost every young girl. What they don�t realize is that they�re not looking for something to make them look beautiful, they�re looking for that one thing that will make them feel beautiful.
And so the Teacher asked, "Where you here right after September 11th?"
They breathe deep before replying, a sign of shared trauma.
"Do you remember all those flyers everywhere, for the missing loved ones? All those smiling faces of those missing people?"
