bell that signalled the start of morning classes rang and today’s student announcer said, “Please stand for the singing of ‘O Canada.’”
Beside me, Mariam whispered, “It’s Josh!” I gave her a quizzical look. “On the announcements,” she explained, giddily. I had to bite my tongue. Since when was hearing Josh Jensen on the announcements a big deal? As the music started, Carmina gave Mariam a conspiratorial smile that could only mean one thing.
It was news to me that Mariam liked Josh. I mean, he was funny, smart, super-athletic, and cute. He had brown eyes and blond hair, shaved short on the sides and left longer on top so it swooped down over his forehead. Tons of girls had crushes on him; I saw them drooling over him all the time. But Mariam and Josh had nothing in common. It would make sense if I had a crush on Josh, and if I was being honest, maybe I did a little. We both liked sports, had been the student council sports reps last year, and ran intramurals at our middle school. Watching Mariam’s bright-eyed smile as Josh spoke gave me an unexpected pang of jealousy. What if he liked her back? I took a deep breath and forced myself to relax. What did it matter? Neither of us could date him.
Josh made some announcements about upcoming school events and then said, “Tryouts for the Junior Varsity All-City Pre-Season Basketball Tournament start today in the gym at lunch. It’s a co-ed team, so anyone in grade nine or ten is welcome to try out.”
I perked up. Mr. Letner was coaching the tournament team this year and had given us a heads-up about tryouts. Making the co-ed team meant I would be a shoe-in for the school’s JV girls team, even though I was only grade nine.
I was the only girl in hijab I knew who played basketball. I blamed my brother. When we moved into our house in Winnipeg, he spent hours outside shooting hoops. Mom got sick of me watching from the window and shooed me outside to join him. It wasn’t just that I liked spending time with my brother, it was the swish of the net when a shot went in and the quick rhythm of the ball against the pavement. I liked being on my toes, anticipating Aazim’s next move, like in a fast-moving chess game. I wasn’t as good as Aazim, but I could do a crossover that rivalled his. I was quick and gave him a run for his money when we played one on one. My last birthday, Aazim got me a poster of my favourite player, Kyle Lowry of the Toronto Raptors, and Dad bought me a pair of real basketball shoes: black-and -turquoise high-tops with Michael Jordan’s silhouette on the side.
When Josh walked into class after he’d finished the announcements, Mariam tracked his progress down the aisle to his desk beside Allan. I didn’t understand where her sudden interest in Josh had come from. It had practically sprung up overnight, and I wondered if he was the reason for the clothes and the lip gloss. Carmina had a crush on a guy named Daniel in grade ten who she talked about all the time, even though she’d never actually had a conversation with him. Carmina had always been more interested in boys than Mariam and me, but lately, her obsession with having a boyfriend had reached a new high. I found it nauseating, but clearly Mariam didn’t. In fact, it looked like it had rubbed off on her.
As Mariam watched Josh sit down, I read the word Mr. Letner had written on the board: Perspective.
“Anyone want to tell me what that word means?” he asked. A few kids were on their phones, not paying attention. He paused, staring at them until they realized and put them away.
“Like in art, it shows how near or far something is,” Carmina said.
“You can lose it,” Allan offered. “As in, ‘I’m losing perspective.’” There were snickers from a few kids. Allan was Josh’s best friend, but unlike Josh, Allan was a jerk and thought it was funny to make up rude nicknames for people and burp so loud he was sent to the office for disrupting class. Josh kept trying to assure me that underneath all the rude behaviour, Allan was a good guy, but I didn’t see it.
Mr. Letner gave a reluctant nod, but I could tell he was looking for something else. He narrowed his eyes at us, as if he could send the answer telepathically.
“Point of view,” Riley said quietly. He sat at the back and didn’t usually say much, not because he wasn’t smart, he was just really shy.
“Right!” Mr. Letner jumped off the table he was perched on and went to his computer. “Understanding what perspective is will be essential to completing this new project.”
There were a few groans, but not from me. Good, I thought, something to take my mind off Mariam and the smell of her cherry lip gloss. Mr. Letner turned on the Smartboard at the front of the class and a website appeared. “‘If You Give a Kid a Camera,’” he read. “Anyone heard of this before?” No one put up their hand. “Anyone heard of the picture book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie? Your parents might have read it to you when you were little.” I hadn’t, but when I looked around the room, a lot of kids had their hands up.
Mr. Letner went to his desk and picked up a book with a mouse in overalls on the cover. “It’s one of my kid’s favourites,” he said. “‘If you give a mouse a cookie, he’s going to ask for a glass of —’” He broke off and a bunch of kids finished the sentence with “Milk.” Mr. Letner turned the page. “‘If you give a mouse some milk, he’ll probably ask you for a —’”
“Straw.” Mr. Letner nodded and put the book on his desk. “You get the idea.”
I didn’t get it. I frowned at him. I wanted him to explain about the book! How would I understand the assignment if I didn’t know what everyone else did!
Mr. Letner pointed to the Smartboard. “I want to show you this project that a teacher started in India. She wanted to give kids living in poverty a chance to tell their stories. It’s called If You Give a Kid a Camera. What do you think would happen if you got cameras?”
“Duh, we’d take pictures?” Allan suggested sarcastically.
“Hopefully,” Mr. Letner replied, frowning at Allan’s rudeness. “And if you take pictures —”
“We’ll want to share them?”
“And if you share them …”
There was a pause as everyone thought about it.
“We’ll show people how we see the world.” This time the answer came from Josh.
“Yes!” Sometimes Mr. Letner put his finger to his nose and pointed at the person who gave the right answer. He did this for Josh, which made Josh grin. “Perspective! Understanding global issues, like poverty and war and the environment, is all about perspective. The If You Give a Kid a Camera project was such a success in India that it has spread to other developing countries: Brazil, Sudan, Thailand. Kids around the world were empowered to share their stories through their photos.” He gave a dramatic pause and looked out at all of us, then pulled a hard plastic case from under his desk. “I’ve got twenty-eight digital cameras for you to use for the next few weeks. It’s going to be a bit of an experiment to see what images you capture. I want you to take photos of the things that matter to you, moments that you want to share with us. Not posed photos, but real life. I want you to notice things you haven’t noticed before, take a fresh look at things, and present photos that show life from your perspective.”
There was a chorus of complaints.
“Another project?”
“We just got a big assignment in bio, too.”
“How many marks is it worth?”
Mr.
