Micro-aggressions on Picture Day

Today was a special day in Room 314. Mothers frantically snuck into our room during breakfast with only one thing on their mind: PLEASE PUT LIP BALM ON MY BABY BEFORE THIS PICTURE. Normally our children aren't allowed to have lip gloss with them at school because it's a distracting status symbol among 6 year olds. On Picture Day, though, everything is different.

So, we collectively primped. Even I ran to the Teachers' Office for a quick swipe of chap stick. As we headed downstairs everyone was filled with visible pride, as if taking your first grade picture officially makes you a first grader.

We lined up by height, and I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the photographers were efficient and friendly. Picture day has probably not changed a lot since you were 6, although these days you are given a barcode which is scanned for payment, scanned again to choose your background, and then scanned again as you actually take the pictures.

The woman in charge was middle-aged, wearing far too large a diamond to be a school photographer, and had a freckled tan that hinted at lots of summer sun plus maybe a little extra in a tanning bed. She appeared to be white. She came to hand out barcodes. About halfway through calling out student names, she said loudly, and to no one in particular, "Where do mothers come up with these names?" 

One of my little girls happened to hear her. And crestfallen doesn't even begin to cover the look on her face. All of the work I did on the beauty of your own unique name was completely undone in a moment. And then, I did the most despicable thing I could have possibly done: I gritted my teeth and smiled.

Afterwards, I ran up behind my sweet girl and reassured her that she has a beautiful name. I watched her shoulders noticeably relax. She let out a nervous laugh that was almost a sign of relief. But what did I teach her? That sometimes people are ignorant and you must grin and bear it.

What could I have said to that woman to make her understand her comment as racist without making her feel attacked. Or should I have attacked her? I'm left wondering, how is this kind of micro-aggression still happening in 2015? What should I have done?

UPDATE as of 10/29/15:

A few days later, I had a conversation with someone in our administration about what happened on picture day. She assured me that if I was willing to write it up, she would pass it along to our point person from the photography company. So, I wrote an email. And she forwarded it. But, I'm still left feeling like it wasn't enough.