Off and Writing

As a teacher, I look to assign work through which students can make a deep personal investment. Every teacher knows that if work relates to a child’s world, their dedication to achieving success in the work will be that much greater.

Our Mosaic lesson today focused on cultivating thoughts that would motivate  the students to capture photographs that spoke about them as members of the community. I shut the lights, asked them to put their heads down, close their eyes, and get comfortable. I prayed the phone or fire alarm wouldn’t ring and that no student would immaturely sabotage the meditation activity I was about to lead the class through.

(I should take this opportunity to mention that so much of the wonderful work I was able to get out of my students last year – and anticipate this year – is due to the mentoring of one of my favorite photographers, and friends, Jessica Fei. She is the one who suggested, among countless other ideas, the meditation exercise as a way to stimulate thinking. Her site showcases her breathtaking photos.) 

The meditation required the students to visualize themselves in an elevator, that, upon opening would deposit them on their neighborhood block. Eyes closed, I asked them to look around, noting colors, shapes, sounds, tastes, textures, smells, feelings, voices, and languages. I had them return to the elevator, and when it opened this time, they’d be back in the classroom. When I gave the command to open their eyes, there was to be no talking or questions. They opened their notebooks and started writing immediately about what they experienced after they got out of the elevator.

Bliss ensued. Pencils flew across the pages as students fought to record the words as quickly as their hands would allow them. No one spoke. It was an unspoken understanding as we all united in passion for this experience. No one wanted to break the sanctity of the creativity and silence. I tiptoed through the room, lights still off, trying to remain unobtrusive as I excitedly fought to read their passages. For a solid 15 or 20 minutes, my charges dedicated themselves to total detail recall.

Maintaining my calm voice I told the students that, if they chose, they could continue to write down details. The others, though, should proceed by reading what they wrote and condensing it into one sentence beginning with the words, “My neighborhood is”. For some, this was a major challenge, given the amount they wrote, but they approached it with similar gusto. I remained elated and inspired. I eagerly and greedily skipped around the room, anxious to see what gold they were mining with their words.

When we joined together 10 minutes later, I told the class that they would each be required to read one of their sentences to the group. There would be no commentary. It would just be an opportunity for us to all hear, enjoy, and ponder the different viewpoints. For some students, sharing personal, intimate work like what they did today is terrifying. Yet, they all spoke clearly and proudly when they read their amazing sentences.

Two stick in my head tonight as I reflect on the day with my blossoming storytelling photographers. One girl wrote something along the lines of, “My neighborhood is a place for family and memories.” I just loved how she recognized the impact of the neighborhood in formulating memories. She’s also set herself up for wonderful possibilities and some creative thinking. I asked her on the way out how she planned to capture such a sentence. She said she’d bring her family outside into the street (I think there is great potential here). I was really intrigued by the question I left her with, though. I wanted to know how she planned to show a memory in a photo. I can’t wait to see what ideas she brings back.

The other sentence that really touched me was constructed by a boy who, unlike any of my students, immigrated to this country less than 3 years ago. He’s a quiet young man, who is older than his peers, and while I wouldn’t call him shy, I would say he’s withdrawn. His sentence carries the impact that makes this project so wonderful. When he read it to the class, it was very longwinded, and he knew he had to get it to be more succinct and clearer.

As he left the room, I remarked how much I enjoyed the thoughts he was seeking to convey. And he told me that he had figured out how to say what he meant. He struggled to get the words out properly, and said “My neighborhood is where I was born.” I reminded him he wasn’t born here, and he clarified, saying “It’s where I started a new life.” So I said, “Do you mean to say ‘My neighborhood is where I was reborn?” That was it, he said, and he positively beamed when I told him how fantastic his idea was. I’m just tickled pink that a student of mine took this so much to heart and unlocked a piece of himself that can be let out creatively.

The Mosaic Project, year two. New students, new thoughts. A project, and teacher, reborn.

The Photographer’s Photograph is the Viewer’s Story

Today began my students’ long-awaited foray into digital photography. Although they are somewhat aware of photography as a ‘thing the teacher does,’ my goal is to make them aware of photography as a powerful tool to tell stories and move peoples’ emotions.

I took a few minutes at the beginning of our lesson to have the students write the word “photograph” on one side of index card. Then I asked them to write the first word they thought of when they heard “photograph.” We then shared them with each other. To my chagrin, about 20 said “photo.” What an obvious and disappointing response! I often wish students would push themselves past the easy and push themselves! One student offered “family” as his association, and another said “memory” as hers. These were the answers I really wanted. I think tomorrow I’ll try the activity again, not allowing “story”  as an option, because that’s what I picked and that’s what we spent the lesson discussing.

To stimulate their thoughts of photographs as stories, I displayed a picture of a grey-haired man, dressed in a suit and smiling, leaning against a wall. I asked them to think of a story that made sense for this picture. Of course, I prefaced the activity with the typical “There is no wrong answer.” They didn’t seem enthused. Finally, hands began to go up. Here are some of their thoughts:

What do you see happening in this picture?

– Perhaps this man was at a party. He’s smiling because he just found an old friend who he hadn’t seen for a very long time.

– Maybe he was looking at his wife, and trying to get her to come take a picture with him.

– Possibly, that day, he did something really good or important, and all the photographers lined up around him in a semicircle.

– Could he be looking at some children laughing and playing?

– Maybe he is shy and doesn’t want his picture taken, so he’s looking away.

The winner, in terms of hilarity, was this, though. One student raised her hand, and addressed me, saying, “Well, he kind of looks like you. Maybe he’s related to you?” I asked her how he might be related. She said, “He might be your grandfather?”

When I told my dad this story, he laughed heartily. After all, the man in the picture is related to me. It’s not my grandfather – it’s my dad.

We then talked through about 5 photographs. Two student produced photos really sparked lively discussions. One of them depicts a man and woman eating at the dinner table, their faces serious, and neither looking at the other. On the right side of the frame, a teenage girl’s body has been cut off, leaving only her arm and part of her face (no eyes) in the picture. There was plenty of discussion about what was going on in the photo, and why this girl was cut off. We talked about whether it was her own decision to be placed in the picture like that (did she try to get away from the camera?) or the photographer’s (did she subconsciously or even consciously decide to cut the girl off as a statement?)

This photograph ignited a vivid discussion about the roles the subjects play, as well as the motivations of the photographer.

Then I posed this question, and it’s one I want to focus on more as the project progresses. I asked the class which they thought would be easier: for the girl to remove herself (ie. get away from the camera) or for the photographer to get the girl’s picture (ie. she could get the picture no matter what.)

They thought about it, and were pretty evenly split. Some reasoned that an unwilling subject could simply hide their face or leave the photographed area.  Then I demonstrated something with one of the boys. I told him to pretend he didn’t want to be photographed, and that I would try to photograph him. He lowered his head so I couldn’t see his face. I allowed him to think he was triumphant, but just for a few moments. I then took my imaginary camera and slipped it under him to take an imaginary photo. Just like that, I illustrated to the class the power a photographer has.

This is a very basic representation of a fantastically powerful fact. Photographers, as people who document life, are immensely powerful. The camera is an unique tool for evoking emotion and impacting change. I hope, through today’s introduction and our subsequent lessons, the students come to appreciate and internalize these ideals. This internal knowledge is so much more crucial than knowing simply how to work the camera. Armed with it, I expect the students to overwhelm me with their work.

I look forward to continuing toward that experience.

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UPDATE: Here’s a link to a blog about this very topic. Interesting to see someone else writing about the same thing.