Nip and Tuck
One of the hazards from being a school photographer is that one must deal with the students.
For the most part, it’s fine — Mr. McCholo hates having his picture taken, so he’s usually pretty cooperative. Kids whose parents want to buy pictures are well-behaved, because their parents want to buy pictures. Potheads would rather be ditching class, and if they don’t get through the line soon, the yard duties will catch them, instead.
What gets me are the giddily, giggling girls. I had a whole gaggle of gigglers today, and, by the nature of gaggles of gigglers, none of them could stop moving, talking or bickering loudly at each other.
I try to get her posed, without success. She says, loudly so that her friends could hear and caustically enough that it annoys me:
I hate pictures.
Nothing plastic surgery can’t fix.
Nothing. Oh, and if you really want to go back to talk to your friends before the end of lunch, maybe you should sit still.
The combination of confusing banter and a stern warning worked. She sat still, and I could take her picture. She went on her way, to have many interesting conversations about dress codes, flavors of lip gloss and Clay Aiken.
After the rush dispersed, both the vice principal and the activities director complimented me on the banter. Even better, they had heard the bit about “plastic surgery” — they had laughed.
As I gave them my card, I smiled.