The anticipation of seeing whether the hairspray held on school photo day was high. My kids got my curly hair, you see. And on a 32-degree day, and PE in the mix, you gotta damage the ozone to guarantee a photo worth paying $58 for.
Finally, I get to first position in the car line. The boot opens, the bags get thrown in with no regard for my laptop, Woolies bags full of dinner hopefuls or the picnic blanket that has never seen a picnic. The seatbelt click is my cue to commence the Q&A – but on a typical day – there are more Qs than As.
“How were the school photos? Did you stand in the back again?” I ask proudly, already knowing the answer. I was a front-rower my entire tiny life. Having kids stand at the back probably means more to me than it should.
“We didn’t have a class photo.”
“Really? Why not?” I ask, surprised I got an answer and shocked by the surprising answer. Someone must have thrown up or maybe the teacher lost it because the kids were being difficult. Either way – there’s gossip, and I’m here for it.
“They’re going to use AI to make it”.
Stupefied.
Evidently, the photographer took individual photos of each student in standing and seated positions and will string them together using AI to create a group one. Individual photos stitched together to create a moment that never happened, rather than capture one that did.
When I ordered the photos, I was expecting a captured memory. Not a fabricated one.
The class photo is a rite of passage. The boredom of waiting in line, calculating whether outgrowing your uniform could mean you’ve moved back a row. Hiding gum. Tapping your classmate’s shoulder and holding back tears of laughter as they look around, annoyed.
And then remembering all of that whenever you see the photo at your parents’ place and wonder why no one told you to pull your socks up.
These collective moments are what make school life so memorable. Sure, they’re mundane. But mundane maketh the memories.
The idea that the 2026 class photo would show them together when they never actually were bothers me. Why couldn’t a group photo just be taken? They were together already; their parents went to a lot of trouble to put every hair in place, tie perfect ribbons, run late to work. If AI was going to be used, why not go all in and save parents that hassle? We could have sent in our favourite photo of our child – and the photographer could have used AI to put them in uniform – then strung those together.
We’ve just won a small victory in the new social media ban for kids. Now we’re showing them that it’s OK to fake a photo?
In discussion, other parents pointed out much bigger concerns. Where were these images being stored? Which AI tool were they being fed into? Would their likeness turn up somewhere unexpected? My rising anger was interrupted by an Instagram notification of a like on a photo of my children. Which got me thinking – what’s the point of even getting angry when I have no idea where Meta stores the hundreds of photos I once so thoughtlessly shared of my kids.
Just like my after-school car rides, I have more Qs than As. But what I do know is that on the great list of challenges that could do with AI brain power to solve, a class photo just ain’t one of them.
Marie El Daghi is a communications specialist with Chasing Albert and a mother of two.
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