“Next!”
My body tensed at the photographer’s prompting. I had always hated school photos. Maybe it was post-traumatic shock from the oversized bows my mother used to clip in my hair. Or maybe it was the anxiety that this photo, this one lousy photo, would be representative of my being for the entire year ahead. No. Worse. This one photo would be representative of four entire years at this place, my new home away from home. It would be laminated on an ID card – the figurative and literal gateway into an entirely new world contained in this campus bubble.
Say cheese? Good Lord, I better.
I had a few moments to spare before my time would come. I watched carefully as the guy in front of me stepped up to a black tape mark on the floor somewhat apprehensively. Clearly I wasn’t the only one who disliked this stuff.
“Stand up straight. Chin up. More…more...there. That’s it—hold it! Now smile,” the photog coached. By the time the poor guy was done inching to the right and left, it was actually somewhat miraculous that his smile came out as genuine as it appeared. Nice Irish smile, I thought. And with the push of a button, the flash illuminated his face and it was over.
The photographer asked for his first and last name before calling me to the line. For a moment I thought I’d heard incorrectly, but the photographer repeated it loud and clear. “Connor. That's C-o-double n-o-r. Kennedy. K-e-double n-e-d-y.” he confirmed. “You’re all set.”
“Thanks, have a good one,” Connor replied. He turned around before I could look away. His eyes carried the same genuine smile I had seen a few minutes before.
“Next!”
My feet wanted to march anywhere but to that black line.
