“Tonight, for homework, I want you each to record yourself on a video camera. Explain who you are and what’s important to you. Do it as if you were describing a mental picture of yourself to a complete stranger. No script, no pauses, just keep talking. Reveal a secret, tell a sad memory, remember the last time you laughed so hard your side cramped up. On Monday, you can watch them back and write me an essay telling me who you really are. What does your face look like when you’re honest? How does your voice sound? What did you find out about yourself?” 

Mrs. Jofald returned to her seat, and the students reluctantly pulled out their notebooks. 

Philo didn’t understand how recording himself would reveal anything he didn’t already know. He also had a problem. All his classmates had a smartphone they could easily film themselves on, but Philo never owned anything that expensive. Some of the classmates were already recording selfie-style videos mentioning their annoying parents, a sick new car they wanted, or how much their many friends meant to them. The bell soon rang and the students herded out of the classroom to head home, Philo realized he needed to talk with his teacher. He couldn’t do this assignment. 

“Mrs. Jofald? I don’t have my own phone to film myself,” Philo whispered. 

“Oh. Well, any form of video recording will work,” she replied pleasantly. “Maybe someone in your family has one?” 

Philo turned his head to the left. He couldn’t look her in the eyes. “I don’t have a family. I live in a foster home.” 

“Oh, Philo. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” Mrs. Jofald tilted her head in sympathy and reached out to him. Philo knew she was trying to be kind, but he was too embarrassed to take her hands offering comfort. 

“See, this is what I’m talking about, Philo,” Mrs. Jofald expressed warmly. “You’re one of my brightest students this year. Heck, of all my years teaching! I’ve wanted you to open up this whole time, but I still don’t know anything about you.” 

“I… I don’t even really know… who I am, yet,” Philo uttered softly. 

“Ah,” Mrs. Jofald smiled somberly, sitting back in her chair, “there it is.” 

“There what is?” Philo asked, confused. 

“The truth, Philo,” Mrs. Jofald stated. Philo had fallen into her clever trap. He smiled slightly as she leaned forward. 

“None of us know who we truly are. It’s a painful journey that takes our whole life to figure out. In your essay, show me this side of you, Philo. The honest side. You’ll start uncoiling mental tapestries you didn’t even know you’ve woven. You don’t know who you are? Then ask yourself, why? Why don’t you know? What are you missing? What do you need to discover?” 

“I… I guess I need to—” 

“Nope!” Mrs. Jofald cut him off, waving her finger in a funny way that made Philo forget his train of thought. “Save all the revelations for when you record yourself. You have to watch it happen on your own face in real-time!” 

“I do think my caretaker has a laptop,” Philo thought aloud. 

“Wonderful! See! Things are looking up already!” Mrs. Jofald concluded cheerfully, hands up in the air. “I’m looking forward to your essay, Philo. And I hope you discover a wonderful new side of yourself that surprises you.”