The scribble on the back of this thin, over-handled photograph does not say what year it is, but only gives the child’s name and age. Little grooves of snow run down the rutted hills beyond the icicle’d eaves of this house’s porch. A similarly-styled house sits next door. This middle child with pleasant dark bangs peers warily toward the corner. Is an adult about to arrive to mess up the elements of the photograph which she has arranged? The dull doll with bonnet, last month’s gift; Buster Keaton dog; an unidentified boy squinting into the sun, his feet close together, holey skullcap kicked askew. Was he placed against his desires here? The young, brilliant developer of this scene [Hazel Marie Dennis née Elliott] has her hands placed on the roll-top desk in front of her. A teacher: she’s pretending to be the teacher: they are her class. She is trying to be in control of the situation.