Love Through a Lens
six.
Mr. Bailey taught the photography class.
So he was obviously Valerie's favorite teacher.
He was a short man, with thinning gray hair, a round belly, and a painfully optimistic world view. Every day he found thousands of little things that amused him, and he would throw his head back and let loose his booming belly laugh. The infectious laugh would travel from his classroom throughout the hallways, sharing the man's mirth with every class in that hallway. He had a habit of adjusting his glasses while he was talking, doing nothing more than lifting them off the bridge of his nose, rubbing it, and setting them back down. And he would always have music playing in his room. It was always quiet, so as not to disturb anyone, but without fail there would be a soft song playing in the background, leaving no room for oppressive or awkward silence.
Mr. Bailey would often stroll into class several minutes late, but on certain occasions he would be waiting behind his desk before any of his students came in.
On one of those days, he gave them an assignment that set them all abuzz.
He instructed them to find a subject to photograph within the next week, and for the rest of the month they were to take pictures of their subject while varying their styles, lighting, and locations. He told them to prepare this project as professionally as possible, because once they were all finished, one of them would be selected to have their work presented in an honest-to-god gallery show.
The details he outlined were lost to Valerie as she let her teacher's words fade into the background. She allowed herself a small smile, realizing that she already had a decent start on this project.
And that this was an excuse to get his permission.
So he was obviously Valerie's favorite teacher.
He was a short man, with thinning gray hair, a round belly, and a painfully optimistic world view. Every day he found thousands of little things that amused him, and he would throw his head back and let loose his booming belly laugh. The infectious laugh would travel from his classroom throughout the hallways, sharing the man's mirth with every class in that hallway. He had a habit of adjusting his glasses while he was talking, doing nothing more than lifting them off the bridge of his nose, rubbing it, and setting them back down. And he would always have music playing in his room. It was always quiet, so as not to disturb anyone, but without fail there would be a soft song playing in the background, leaving no room for oppressive or awkward silence.
Mr. Bailey would often stroll into class several minutes late, but on certain occasions he would be waiting behind his desk before any of his students came in.
On one of those days, he gave them an assignment that set them all abuzz.
He instructed them to find a subject to photograph within the next week, and for the rest of the month they were to take pictures of their subject while varying their styles, lighting, and locations. He told them to prepare this project as professionally as possible, because once they were all finished, one of them would be selected to have their work presented in an honest-to-god gallery show.
The details he outlined were lost to Valerie as she let her teacher's words fade into the background. She allowed herself a small smile, realizing that she already had a decent start on this project.
And that this was an excuse to get his permission.