Picture Day

Friday was picture day at school. Insanity was the overarching theme. 

At the middle school level, picture day is a big deal. It’s hilarious to watch, actually. Students agonize for days over what to wear and get up a bit earlier to make sure they have extra time to spend in order to look nice. One of my kids even went shopping the night before just so she’d have a cute shirt to wear. The boys actually shower to make sure their Justin Bieber hair is swooping just right. The girls bring brushes to class and wear their hair down. All of them wear their best name-brand shirts. Like I said, it’s a big freaking deal.


When you’re a teacher, you generally don’t remember that it’s picture day until you’re walking into the building wearing your crappiest shirt and looking like hell because you’re just. so. tired.

However, this year was different for me. This is actually the second year in a row that I’ve remembered picture day ahead of time and managed to NOT be wearing my school t-shirt and have my hair thrown back in a ponytail. Me = ahead of the game.

So this morning as I was getting ready, I was already mentally mocking my students ahead of time. I was anticipating the extra hair gel and the caked-on zit concealer and the constant brushing of hair. I was already grinning at the ever-present palm-sized mirrors and the sneaking of lip gloss. I was feeling so superior, you know? I pitied them, because I’m so much more mature. Because I’m an adult and I’ve figured out that looks really don’t matter all that much. 

As I was thinking these arrogant thoughts, what was I doing? Putting extra effort into straightening my hair. Brushing more concealer under my eyes. Trying to cover up the emerging zit on my chin. It’s picture day, for crying out loud!

Hello irony, my old friend.

I’m not saying that I think it’s silly to get dolled-up on picture day. It’s completely fine and appropriate to want to look good. Not only is there nothing wrong with taking care of oneself, it’s actually a good thing. It’s great to look in the mirror and feel good about what you see. However, I was feeling badly for the students who take this good thing and make it an ultimate thing, something that determines their value as a person.

When the irony of the situation hit me, it got me thinking about those good things that I’ve made ultimate things. Humor. Job performance. Strength. In my mind it’s better to make jokes about life’s struggles than it is to admit that anything is wrong; it’s better to build my entire identity on being an excellent teacher than look to God and find out who He thinks I am; it’s better to feign strength when I am faced with disappointments and failures rather than being sad for the losses.

So really, I'm not that different than my students. We're all broken people who are fighting like hell to pretend that we aren't.