I hold, in my hand, the proofs of both my daughters’ school
portraits. I would post them along with this blog, but I have been forbidden
not only from purchasing them but also from snapping a picture of them with my
iPhone. My children prefer to pretend that these photos never existed, dreading
the possibility that these unflattering images might resurface in a few years,
as most embarrassing things on the internet tend to do. And I even considered
buying this year’s portraits because they aren’t half bad. My daughters almost
look human. Well, one of them does. The other one looks like an unfortunate hunchbacked
troll with its teeth clenched in a grimace, but still pretty.
Part of why the photos suck has to be the mass produced quality of the
portraiture. If you had half a day to snap almost two thousand portraits, you
better believe you would have some eyelids barely open and a snarled lip here
or there. No one can make an entire school body look good, especially when
virtually none of them want to have their picture taken. It’s not like a piece
of their soul will be taken from them, but still, students, normally obsessed
with selfies and Instagram and all things photogenically narcissistic, treat
every school portrait like they are standing for a mug shot.
This year’s batch of pictures features a lovely natural
backdrop, complete with an artificial tree trunk. If you look closely, you can
see that the tree trunk is actually part of the back drop and not a free
standing photo prop against which to lean. The photographer had to direct two
thousand surly teens to pretend like they were standing against a tree,
pantomime style. No wonder there is an undercurrent of “are you fucking kidding
me?” evident in both my daughter’s eyes. What would have made it even better is
if all the kids posed in plaid flannel shirts holding axes. Hell, if they
did that, I guarantee parents would be lining to buy those photos. I know I
would.
When my daughters were little and students at the local
Montessori, they had fabulous portraits taken at school. The photographer would
set up a bench near some blooming azalea bushes in front of the school, arrange
a few potted plants around the bench, and then seat the children in a modest
fashion. Combs were handed out for smoothing unruly hair, and angelic faces
would beam beatifically at the camera. All the parents bought those portraits,
not because they were guilted into it, but because those portraits were
fabulous.
Can you imagine if you gave combs to all the students in
middle school? They would be used for weapons, or possibly some sort of
MacGyvered drug paraphernalia. Not to mention at least half the kids couldn’t
use a comb if they tried, thank you Axe hair paste. Even if the hair was
smoothed, it wouldn’t distract from the nasty facial expressions and tight
lipped fake smiles hiding braces. And don’t forget the soulless eyes.
Seriously, post-mortem photography is livelier than a school portrait.
Parents look forward to school photo day when their kids
were younger. I know I put great thought into the dresses the girls would wear, deciding
on flattering hairstyles, how if they pulled their skirts down just so, the
bruises on their knees might not show. For middle school, photo day isn’t even
an afterthought. My daughters didn’t mention it, hoping to avoid it
entirely. One child even wore a hand me down of her sister’s from the fifth
grade, a shirt that has at least three years of wear and tear on it. Can you
imagine if you showed up at Target on a Wednesday morning and someone announced
to you it was photo day?
I thought about my own school photos from many moons ago,
which also began as an every year purchase before petering out. I bet my mother stopped buying them around seventh
grade, and I know I fought for that one because I thought I looked good,
rocking that Lacoste shirt and some wicked center parted bangs. Once you hit the
early teens, you don’t really look that much different from year to year,
except perhaps for the braces covering yellowing teeth and more than one acne
breakout and the rebellious makeup and hairstyles.
I bet most people buy pictures of their kids from
kindergarten to fifth grade and then senior year. Face it; from about ten to
maybe sixteen, awkward is the dominating trend. Most of us would be better off
forgetting some of those choices we made. As far as I know, no photographic
evidence exists of my purple hair, circa 1985, much to my children's disappointment.
On second thought, excuse me while I go write a couple of checks to School
Portraits, Incorporated. My kids might not want me to buy these shitty photos, but I know my
future grandchildren will thank me.
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