I would like to hear about the senior portrait fuckery, if you feel like sharing
(I want to thank you and @oft-goes-awry for encouraging this because I had nearly forgotten about it until I saw that photo.)
Okay, so it’s 2000-2001. I started my senior year of high school by calling out the school superintendent on some fuckery regarding prayer over the PA at my school (I’m from Arkansas). To say I was fucking over high school bullshit is to put it lightly. If you’d told me I could skip senior year and go straight to college if I cut off one of my toes, I’d have probably done it.
So, I’m done. I’m so done.
But I’ve got to get senior pictures because senior pictures. I schedule a shoot. It’s cancelled due to the photographer having a death in the family. No big. Plenty of time left. I scheduled a second shoot, and two weeks before, I go to see my orthodontist for a retainer check up, and he informs me my wisdom teeth are coming in.
Now, my parents have just dropped about 4k to straighten my teeth. The wisdom teeth are coming out ASAP. Mom calls the oral surgeon. They can get me in the day before my senior portrait appointment. We cancel the portrait appointment, promising to call back once we know how much bruising I’ll have to recover from. I get my wisdom teeth out, get fucked up on Demoral for a week, and blank on rescheduling the appointment for awhile because, honestly, this is not a high priority for me.
Cue a month or so later. I’m in my math class, and a student comes in and tells my teacher that one of the English teachers who is also the yearbook advisor needs to see me. I’m editor of the school paper, so I think this teacher must be on free period and might need me to assist on some layout or something. Weird she’s pulling me out of class for it, but whatever.
I go into the teacher’s classroom. There is a FULL CLASS of students. I’m confused about why I’m even there. So, I greet the teacher, and then this happens:
ME: Hi, I heard you needed to see me.
TEACHER: Where is your senior picture?
TEACHER: Where is your senior picture?
ME: ...I haven’t gotten them done yet.
Please note, this is happening in front of about 30 kids. I am very much not okay with being called out like this, but I try to hold it together.
ME: My first appointment got cancelled, and then I got my wisdom teeth out, and I have’t rescheduled.
TEACHER: Well, we need that picture. The yearbook goes to print in a week.
ME: So, just run the yearbook without my photo.
This was the wrong thing to say. The teacher gets very angry looking, and I’m confused because, like, just run the fucking yearbook. Who cares if I’m in it. Why the fuck am I getting called out like this.
TEACHER: You’re a senior. We need a senior photo.
ME: Well, I don’t have one. And I’m in like four photos for “most likely,” so it’s not like I’m not pictured in things.
TEACHER: You’re irresponsible.
Okay, bitch, now it’s on.
TEACHER: You’re irresponsible. You should have planed ahead for your pictures.
ME: I did. I just told you. I don’t understand why this is such a problem.
TEACHER: We need your photo.
ME: Well, I don’t have one.
TEACHER: I don’t think you understand how deadlines work or how important they are.
Now, again, I am editor of my school paper, and I am so over being at this school.
ME: I am very aware of how deadlines work, given that I’m the editor of the paper. I’m also aware of how unprofessional it is that you’re calling me out in front of your class for some reason rather than speaking to me alone. I don’t care about my senior picture. I don’t care that it’s not going to be in the yearbook. It’s not a big deal.
Dead silence. The teacher can’t believe I just did that. The class can’t believe I just did that. When my brain catches up with my mouth, I can’t believe I just did that. The silence drags.
I promise you, I said this in the rudest tone I had. The teacher waved me out of the room. I went back to class. During lunch, as I’m in the journalism room doing work, the journalism advisor comes in.
“Gayle, why is the yearbook advisor telling me you shouldn’t be editor anymore?”
But she was. Apparently, as soon as this woman had a moment, she ran to the journalism advisor demanding I be removed from my position because I was untrustworthy with deadlines and rude.
My journalism advisor was the one who had my back when I went after the school superintendent on like day one of school for prayer over the PA. I kept my position.
