My son’s school informed us that tomorrow is the infamous school photo day.  I say infamous because school photos often end up being the things of legend.  The media loves to dig up celebrity school photos and see if any of us unsung underlings can guess who the superstar is from her photo in Miss Knickerbocker’s second grade class. 

School photos really are – as are photos in general – tangible time capsules.  While holding them and looking at them, they can transport us to a time, a moment, a day, weeks, a year.  When I – the very late adopter – joined Facebook, I was surprised to see that several of my school photos were posted, courtesy of past classmates who were part of Operation Embarrass and Humiliate.  There I was, in between Leslie and Carmen, under Bridget and on top of Robert – all metaphorically speaking, for those of you that may be conjuring of images of a Ménage à many on a Twister game.  And out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a couple boys I had crushes on.  And there was Val, who hosted some of the best slumber parties, Tracy, who told me to meet her at the bridge so she could beat me up, and Marie, who performed the best Prince impersonation in any school talent show ever.

I called my mom to see if she could dig up my kindergarten school photo, and unearth she did.  She sent it to me, and after a few seconds of looking at this photo, a world rushed back to me.  I started mouthing the days of the week in Spanish, I could taste churros and Mexican hot chocolate, and I could see my teacher’s face, complete with her massive glasses, curly hair and reassuring smile.

I went to kindergarten and first grade in what some might label an impoverished city about 13 miles outside Los Angeles.  Because the majority of the city’s residents were Mexican, we had a chance to learn both Spanish and English at school.  We were exposed to Mexican culture, via food, stories, songs, objects and holidays.  It wasn’t until I was in college, in a sociology class, that I learned that during the time I went there, my school was one of the poorest schools in the nation.

I don’t remember the school being poor, but I had nothing to compare it to at the time.  What I remember is my teacher trying to instruct me on how to write sentences, explaining the notion of a complete thought or idea.  The paper I turned in looked like this:  Once.  Upon.  A.  Time.  A.  Girl.  Had.  A.  Dog.  Every word represented a complete thought to me, apparently.  I’m sure there is a philosopher or poet out there somewhere who would’ve been proud.  I remember the smell of the paste, and the boy who liked to eat it.  I remember making a card out of wallpaper for my granny for Mother’s Day.  Years later, I had the fortunate opportunity to read said card, and the inside of it read “I don’t know why you and grandpa aren’t together, but I think it’s okay.  I love you.”  This card undoubtedly went down as the most charming Mother’s Day card she ever received.

Yes, my friends, a school photo brings back a myriad of memories (I’d like to thank my hippocampus, my frontal lobes and Sudoku).  My mom made the outfit I wore for my kindergarten school photo, as she did almost all my clothes as a child. 

And ditto for all the inspired hairstyling.  She did the brushing, braiding, rubberbanding, barretting, and bow-tying, often to this kid’s bid.  Regardless of her efforts – as is evident in my kindergarten school photo – my hair wanted emancipation from the follicle.  It had a way of becoming so dishevelled that wayward wisps would end up in my mouth, strong-willed strands would compromise my eyesight, and titanic tangles became the norm.  In fact, this photo serves as a precursor of things to come.  My tousled hair today is still trying to declare its freedom.

How will my son’s hair look for his school photo tomorrow?  I suppose we’ll find out when he wakes up.  I don’t brush his hair.  It’s not because I’m opposed to him learning about grooming, but I have a fear that he might go the way of my beloved, spending twice as long as I do getting ready, making a variety of faces in the mirror – his “You lookin’ at me, you lookin’ at me Deniro look”, his “One, two, combo punch, oh ya, you want some of this Tyson look” which comes complete with mini punches at the mirror, and his “Oh ya, you look good, reeeeal good” look which sends my eyes into rolling overdrive.

As for my little guy’s overall look in his school photo, I’m betting on one of three.  As of late, when I ask to take a photo of him, he gazes at me very seriously, with a “Nobody can get me to smile no matter how much they plead to see my pearly whites.  I am steadfast in my solemn stare”.  After a bit of coercing – or what I like to refer to as chocolate bribery – Enlai will come up with expression number two, which is when he smiles with such fervour, his cheeks push up so much, making his eyes all but disappear.  And the third look is the nonexistent look, when he runs away, shouting, “I don’t do photos!”

I hope he gets a kick out of his first school photo experience tomorrow, and I hope that in years to come, while looking at the photo together, we smile.  Not for a camera, but because we’re both relishing in our own memories of the day.