For the past two years, I have taught in classrooms where the boys outnumbered the girls by a ratio of 3-to-1.
Further, I noticed the girls in my class had become withdrawn, sullen and rarely contributed to class. To address the gender imbalance I started a “Girls’ Group,” which met twice a month for an hour. In the group, students could discuss issues such as body image, relationships and coping with emotions. I hoped the time together would help my girls relax and open up.
I began a recent session by asking the girls to compliment the others in the group. This was easy enough for them, as we’ve practiced giving compliments in the past, but after a few rounds I threw them a curveball. I requested they compliment themselves.
“Please don’t ask me to do that!” one of them whined. “I hate it! There is nothing I like about myself!”
I understand why such an exercise can be uncomfortable, but after further prodding, I discovered that their hesitation was not just about feeling awkward. These girls found it easier to concentrate on their faults rather than talk about their strengths, skills or even their interests.
I know that many adolescent girls and boys struggle with low self-esteem. This is nothing new. But these Girls’ Groups gave me new insight into the level of insecurity. It made me feel profoundly sad.
What happens towards the beginning of middle school that triggers girls to be more down on themselves? Is it the repeated message that in order for a woman to be important she needs to be glamorous and sexy?
Is it a side-effect of social networking where girls present only their best side to the world—the touched-up photos and carefully crafted status posts? Do these things lead other girls to wonder, “How come I can’t be like that?” Do parents and teachers add to this feeling? Or is it a little bit of all of these things mixed with an awakening sense of identity and self-awareness?
Girls will often refuse to acknowledge their strengths, claiming that it would make them feel conceited. Likewise, they deflect compliments from others, unable to believe them as genuine. (“You’re my teacher. You have to say that.”)
However, negative self-imagery is just as unrealistic as if they thought of themselves as perfect. There will be bad hair days and occasional pimples. Sometimes they may fail a test. They can hurt other’s feelings. Despite all that, they also have beauty, wit, skill and intelligence. And they’re learning how to be human. Why should the negative be more “real” than the positive?
Combating the influence of gender stereotypes and media messaging can sometimes make me feel powerless. But there is something we can do. My experience with the girls reminded me that their worst critics really are themselves.
Now, simultaneously, there is also a Boys’ Group. I’m encouraged that we can act as objective observers, continually pointing out the positive to balance students’ negative. We can question them about the source of their expectations and work to show them that perfection is a mirage. We can guide them towards more realistic expectations. We can help them feel more comfortable with being regular humans, just like the rest of us.
Anderson is a middle school humanities and interdisciplinary studies teacher in Oregon.
Links:
[1] http://www.tolerance.org/author/sarah-anderson