A little to the right, a bit more to the left, chin up, and drop the personality.

Across the years, countless photographers have, sometimes forcefully, sat me down and taken my picture in this uniform manner.

I’ve been told picture day is a “lovely” reminder of how you change from year to year, but I would have to disagree. Are we students, or convicts taking mug shots? The latter sounds more like picture day to me.

True to its definition, I can see how I’ve grown physically throughout the years, but there’s no emotion or personality in these pictures.

Everyday feelings like heartbreak, jealousy, or on the brighter side, the laughter from inside jokes you share with your friends – I doubt anyone could get all that from a yearbook picture. If you take a look at a yearbook without knowing the people in it, you probably won’t be able to distinguish the cliques, figure out who likes who, or even spot the lacrosse players.

When you’re thirty, it’s unlikely that you’ll take a look at your yearbook and remember what happened in the moments before the picture.

I for one have tried to not be part of this uniform system, but in my attempts to not be awkward or fake in my pictures, I’ve ended up looking like a dazed rabbit, blinded by their flashing camera lights.

Granted, picture day is exciting for some. Put on some more makeup, spend some more time combing your perfectly fine flow, and maybe even wear that dress you bought but never felt bold enough to wear.

But me? I’ll pass on the mundane “memory”-maker they call picture day.