October 20, 1999
Picture day: Monkey hats and butterfly collars
By GARRET LEIVA
Herald editor
To part, or not to part, that was the question on that yearly sojourn banally called school picture day.
During those formative and formidable years of elementary school your entire existence could be defined by a one inch by one inch black and white yearbook photograph. You could be the bully, the geek, the cool dude, the brown-noser, or the kid who sported a black eye every year from third- to fifth-grade.
Myself, as each butterfly collar, zippered polyester stripped shirt would change, so did my pictured persona. Kindergarten was the crying year, first-grade I lost the ability to smile, while second- through sixth-grade could best be summed up in three words: helmet hair head.
Growing up in a small town school system, picture day did not involve the military precision of photographing 1,000 students in a single day. Instead it was like lining up relatives at a family reunion without uttering the words free beer. Perhaps the reluctance was only on my part, or lack there of one.
Looking back after all those years, and dozens of popping flash bulbs, there is one thing about school pictures that remains indelible as a monochrome print - the monkey with a birthday hat.
Simply explained those absent on picture day, or on the self-confidence builder known as retake day, were replaced by a cutesy cartoon in the school yearbook. It could be a Scottish terrier in a kilt, a wormy apple or the ego-boosting monkey wearing a birthday hat. While I hated having my picture taken, the idea of a smirking primate taking the place of my face disturbed my childhood psyche even more.
As procedures go, the actual picture-taking proved far less painful than getting your leg caught under the merry-go-round or humiliating as becoming violently ill in front of the student teacher you had a crush on.
You simply sat up straight on a steel cube, put your hands on your knees, tilted your chin back, placed your eyes forward, said 'cheese' and tried not to blink. You even received a black, plastic comb that you put in your back pocket and promptly forgot about until someone snapped it back against your Toughskin jeans after you sat down to a hot lunch in the cafeteria.
Then one day, long after you remember what you wore that day or why, the 8 x10, two 5x7s and 18 wallet size pictures of your scowling, smiling or perplexed face arrived. Some ended up in the hands of relatives, others with friends and classmates with the words 'stay cool' scribbled on the back in black ink. A few were tucked away by an enterprising sibling seeking blackmail material during your dating years.
It has been a decade since my last school picture and more than 15 years since I last ran a black, plastic comb through my hair. I still hate having my picture taken, although my lack of a part has nothing to do with my reluctance.
Truth be told, I cringed when I was told I needed to run a picture with each of my columns. Although its not a terrible picture, perhaps I should have wore a birthday hat.
Grand Traverse Herald editor Garret Leiva can be contacted at 933-1416 or e-mail at gleiva@gtherald.com.