SAY CHEESE
There are many events in the school calendar that teachers don’t look forward to. Sports carnivals, excursions, pet days and class parties are just some of them. Although Miss Strickland preferred the ‘normal’ school days, she didn’t particularly mind those different days once in a while, so long as everything went smoothly.
Today was class photo day. Although it was inconvenient, it had never featured on Miss Strickland’s list of horrible school events. However, after spotting Shayna’s hair decorated with about a hundred sparkly butterfly clips, the rip in Shaun’s shirt, Emma’s non-uniform shoes and Isaac’s green hair, she started to feel a little concerned that the day would not turn out quite as well as expected. She became even more concerned when Kimberly announced that she felt sick, Jason got chewing gum stuck in his hair and Tiffany presented her with a note requesting that she stand on the right of the photo so that she could present her best side.
The teachers had been ‘done’ before school.
“Holidays,” the photographer said.
“Holidays,” the staff said, smiling at the lovely thought.
The camera flashed and the two hundred and fifty students who were watching cheered.
Photo day had begun.
Later, during Maths, there was a knock on the classroom door.
Miss Strickland looked up. She was at the back of the room cutting the chewing gum from Jason’s hair. “Yes?”
“Mr Barker said you can go for your photo now,” the little girl at the door said brightly.
Miss Strickland cringed. “Okay, thank you.”
There was an excited chatter around the room.
“Well, we’ll finish the lesson when we’ve had our photo,” the teacher said. “Just leave your book open on your desk. Now, line up outside in two lines, the tallest at the front and the shortest at the back, with minimal noise. Quickly.”
There was an explosion of talking and scraping chairs.
Miss Strickland snipped the last blob of gum from Jason’s hair. “If you face the front no-one will see that you’re bald at the back,” she said.
Jason looked horrified and felt around with a hand.
“Only kidding,” Miss Strickland said. “Now, hurry up.”
Five minutes later they were standing on the oval near the only decent looking tree in the school, a large wattle in full bloom. The photographer had set up two rows of metal benches in front of it.
“I’m allergic to wattle,” Paul wheezed. “It makes me sneeze.”
“You’ll be right,” Miss Strickland said. “We’ll only be a minute.” She glanced over the class. “Everybody, make sure your hair is nice, your shirts are tucked in and your socks are pulled up. We don’t want you looking like you’ve just played in a football match. Shayna, can you take some of those clips out of your hair? You look like a Christmas tree.” She adjusted the collar of a child standing near by.
“I can’t!” Shayna protested. “My hair will go all messy.”
Miss Strickland groaned.
The photographer ambled over, a tight shirt barely hiding a large potbelly that dangled over his white slacks.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Everybody beautiful?” Miss Strickland asked.
“Yes!”
Sally put up her hand.
“Yes, Sally?” Miss Strickland asked.
“Can I go to the toilet?”
Miss Strickland thought quickly. “No. We’ll only be a minute.”
Sally looked worried.
“Miss, I still feel sick,” Kimberly said.
The teacher glanced at her pasty face. “When we’ve finished, you can lie down for a while. Okay?”
Kimberly nodded.
“We’ll start with the two tallest boys,” the photographer said.
“Okay, Isaac and Paul, off you go,” Miss Strickland said.
“Do we really need the wig, son?” the photographer asked.
“It’s my real hair,” Isaac said.
The photographer glanced at Miss Strickland. She nodded.
“Right, okay then,” he said slowly. “Um, follow me then. You two can stand up there on the second row in the middle.”
The boys climbed into position.
The photographer arranged the rest of the class quickly. He positioned Miss Strickland at one end, and then stepped backwards, studying the overall effect.
“Left hand over right,” he said, pointing at the girls in the front row. “Feet together please. That’s right.”
He looked through the camera.
“Miss Strickland!” Tiffany called out from the front row. “I’m on the wrong side. Mum said I have to be on the right hand side of the photo and I’m on the left.”
The class groaned.
If it had been any other girl, Miss Strickland would have told her not to be silly and be quiet. But it was not a good idea to get onto the wrong side of Tiffany’s mother. “Excuse me,” Miss Strickland said, waving at the photographer. “Can this girl at the front be moved to the other side?”
The photographer ambled over, a puzzled expression on his face.
“A parent’s request,” Miss Strickland explained.
“Mum wants me to show my best side,” Tiffany added.
Miss Strickland shrugged. “Sorry.”
The photographer swapped her with Sally, then stepped back and studied the new arrangement. “Okay then,” he said. “Left hand over right. Feet together.”
“I really have to go to the toilet,” Sally whispered up to Miss Strickland, a pained expression on her face.
“We’re almost done,” Miss Strickland said.
Sally moaned.
“Looking this way,” the photographer said. He looked through the camera, then stood up straight again. “On the count of three, we all say cheese.”
“Cheese!” Joshua called out loudly, and there were a few giggles.
“Joshua,” Miss Strickland warned.
The photographer frowned.
Suddenly there was a strong gust of wind. The branches of the wattle tree above them shook and everybody was showered with yellow flowers.
The class laughed.
Paul sneezed loudly.
“Just brush yourselves off quickly,” Miss Strickland said, noticing how decorative Isaac’s green hair looked with yellow spots in it. She brushed a hand over her shoulders and the top of her head.
“Are we ready now?” the photographer asked.
“Yes,” the class replied.
“Left hand over right,” the photographer said. “Feet together please. That’s right.”
He looked through the viewfinder again. “Right, we’re ready to go. On the count of three we’ll all say cheese.”
“Cheese!” Joshua called out loudly again, grinning.
The class laughed.
“Joshua!” Miss Strickland shouted.
“Ready now?” the photographer said, looking slightly annoyed. “One...two...”
“Oh yuck, a bird just pooped on my head!” a shrill voice squealed.
There was an explosion of laughter.
The photographer put a hand to his forehead and shook his head slowly.
“Settle down, everybody,” Miss Strickland said.
Nobody took any notice.
“Settle down!”
The voices died.
“Who is the unfortunate victim of the bombing raid?” Miss Strickland asked.
“Shayna,” Joshua announced.
“Shayna, we’ll clean it up after the photo,” Miss Strickland said.
“But you’ll see it on the photo,” Shayna said, her voice trembling.
“Now don’t cry,” Miss Strickland said. “It’s only a bit of bird poo.”
Shayna cried.
Miss Strickland left her spot and walked around the back of the group.
“Hop down, Shayna. Where did it land?”
Shayna stepped down. “In, in my hair,” she blubbered.
“Le
t me see.”
Shayna bent over and Miss Strickland peered at the splatter of white on the centre of her head. “Does anybody have a hanky?” she asked.
“I’ve got one in my bag,” Shaun offered.
“I can get some toilet paper from the boys’ toilets,” Joshua said, and laughed.
“I mean here,” Miss Strickland said.
Silence.
“She could wipe her head on the grass,” Benjamin suggested.
“No, she’ll be right,” Miss Strickland said, smiling as she imagined what that would look like. “Okay then, Shayna, you’ll have to be brave for now. We’ll wash it out when we get back to the classroom. No one will see it in the photo.”
“Yes they will,” Shayna sniffed.
“Not if you stand up straight. Dry your eyes and hop up.”
Shayna wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her school jumper and climbed back up into position.
Miss Strickland returned to her spot at the end. “I think we’re ready now,” she said.
The photographer looked through the viewfinder again. “Left hand over right,” he said. “Feet together at the front. No need to go cross-eyed, young man,” he said, pointing.
Joshua grinned and uncrossed his eyes.
“Right,” the photographer said. “On the count of three we’ll say cheese. One...two...”
“Ow!” a voice yelled from the front row. “An ant bit me!”
“Enough!” Miss Strickland yelled. “Sit still!”
“But there’s a green ants’ nest here!”
“If you sit still they won’t bite you,” Miss Strickland said.
“But one already has!”
“Ignore it!” Miss Strickland shouted. “I don’t want any more interruptions! Are we ready now?”
“Yes,” the class replied.
The photographer muttered something and looked through the viewfinder again.
“Left hand over right,” he said.
“Feet together,” the class said.
The photographer frowned. “On the count of three we’ll all say cheese. One...two...three...”
As everybody opened their mouths to say cheese, Paul sneezed loudly. He lost his balance, and as he tried to stop himself from falling off the narrow platform, the scaffolding wobbled alarmingly. As the photographer pressed the button on the camera, the children in the back row screamed, raised their arms and disappeared from view. There was a flash.
Miss Strickland felt the last shred of patience seep away. Photo day was rapidly becoming as bad as house duty during the sports carnival.
“Right!” she shouted angrily, leaving her spot. “Now everyone, get back up again! Quickly!”
Everybody could see that Miss Strickland was definitely not going to take any more nonsense, and they organized themselves quickly and quietly.
“Once more,” the photographer said. “We almost got it that time.” He looked through the viewfinder. “Let hand over right,” he said.
“Feet together,” the class chorused.
“Right then, on the count of three. One...two...three.”
“Cheese,” the class said sweetly.
Miss Strickland forced a smile for the camera.
The photographer pressed the button, but nothing happened. He said a rude word under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” Miss Strickland asked.
“Battery’s flat,” he said.
The class groaned.
Suddenly Kimberly was spectacularly sick over Naomi’s head and shoulders. Naomi screamed and burst into tears. Everyone around her leapt away, squealing.
Miss Strickland rushed around and led Kimberly from the group to the other side of the tree to finish throwing up her breakfast.
“Sit down everyone!” she yelled from the tree. “Rebekah, take Naomi to the girls’ toilets to get cleaned up and get her another uniform from the lost property box.”
“Miss Strickland!” Tiffany called out.
“What is it now?!” Miss Strickland shouted impatiently.
“Sally’s had an accident!”
Miss Strickland groaned and wished she were somewhere else.
Later that day when all of the other classes had been done, Miss Strickland’s class arrived for another go at their photo. Sally and Naomi had managed to find new uniforms in the lost property box and Shayna had used half of Miss Strickland’s tissues to get the bird poo out of her hair. Kimberly, after a bit of a lie down, felt a lot better and was able to join in too.
“On the count of three we’ll all say cheese,” the photographer said. “One...two...three.”
“Cheese,” the class said sweetly, smiling. There was a flash and the deed was done. Everybody cheered, including Miss Strickland.
Photo day was over, finally.
When Miss Strickland crawled home later that afternoon, she decided that when it came around again next year she would take a sickie. The effort it took to make a class smile sweetly and look angelic just wasn’t worth the effort.