Teaching is an art. As we all know, teachers can affect our love or hatred of a subject. A great teacher can instill within us a love of learning, a thirst for knowledge, and can encourage us to pursue areas of interest, take risks, and ask questions. For most teachers, at some point, a teacher touched our lives in some way and inspired us to become life-long learners, and possibly even teachers ourselves. Reflecting on what made these teachers of ours so great fuels the flame of our own teaching, reconnecting us with why we were inspired to teach in the first place.
For me, two of my high school teachers vividly stick out in my mind. Although they have very different teaching styles, in their own ways, they both instilled within me a love of learning and created models for me of what it means to be a great teacher.
One of the toughest teachers I've ever had, Mrs. G held high expectations for all students in her 10th grade honors English class. If you achieved a "B" or below on one of your papers, you were expected to revise it. Revisions were optional for additional credit with a "B+". Although frustrating when revisions needed to be made, I always wanted to achieve an "A" and for Mrs. G to be proud of my work. She kept me motivated by first commenting on what I had done well in my papers. By remarking on my strengths from paper to paper, she reinforced them for me-- making me continue to do them well.
When required to revise, Mrs. G gave constructive criticism that was specific, so I knew exactly what I needed to do. My papers were always scored with a rubric, so I knew what I had done well, and for revisions, I could clearly see what changes needed to be made. Mrs. G never expected us to perform a skill that we didn't know how to do and provided us with an appropriate amount of scaffolding. For example, when she realized that the majority of the class was having difficulty writing transitional sentences between paragraphs in our essays, she displayed models on the overhead projector. Mrs. G showed us various techniques on how to connect ideas from one paragraph to the next. Then she expected us to try out these techniques when we went back to revise our own papers.
Mrs. G taught us how to be life-long learners, teaching us skills, strategies, and ways of thinking that we would be able to apply to our work in 11th grade, 12 grade, college, and beyond. She taught us how to think, how to dig deeper into character motivations, symbolism, and quotations. Mrs. G gave us tools for organization-- she taught us how to use outlines and notecards to organize a ten page research project, tools that I continued to use throughout college and graduate school. She taught us the power of reflecting on our work by having us create a portfolio at the end of the year, having us choose a written piece from each of the following categories and then writing about why we chose it. (Important Piece, Satisfying Piece, Unsatisfying Piece, and Free Pick)
Mrs. G's influence did not stop at her classroom door. As the faculty advisor of The ROAR, the art-literary magazine of which I was Co-Editor in-Chief during my senior year, Mrs. G supported our interests outside of the classroom as well. Giving us pointers on how to select literary and art work, and giving us advice on effective layouts, she guided us through the process of putting together an art-lterary magazine. Mrs. G showed us that she cared by supporting our endeavors and sharing her expertise and her time.
Mr. O was a different kind of teacher all together. He had the superb ability of turning history on its head, in his American History AP class, in the best way possible! Mr. O could bring even the most seemingly boring topics to life by developing creative assignments that were engaging and required us to really think, analyze, synthesize, and apply the material. Studying the process of how a bill becomes a law could have been dull and boring in the hands of a less capable teacher. In Mr. O's class, we were each required to research a topic that we would want passed into a law and write a paper. Then our classroom was transformed into the different branches of government, as our bills went through the process of becoming or not becoming laws. While the process was pretty well replicated, the outcomes were not! Within just one class session, we had banned animal testing for cosmetic purposes and legalized both prostitution and marijuana!
Mr. O also inspired us to analyze and think outside of the box by presenting assignments in unexpected ways. For instance, for one assignment we were required to write about why the American Revolution was unjustified. Another assignment became a murder mystery. "Pretend Grover Cleveland was assassinated. Make a chart that lists the prime suspects and their motivations. Who do you think most likely did it? Write a paper explaining why you chose the suspect and explain their motivations."
What was truly incredible was the effectiveness of Mr. O's teaching practices. He told us at the beginning of the year that he did not believe in teaching to the AP test. As a result, since I felt like I hadn't been preparing for the test all year, I decided not to study much for it. I was pleasantly surprised on the day of the test on how well prepared I felt, being able to write quite knowledgeably about content we hadn't covered since October. But the way that we had covered it, made the material stick in my brain.
What I have found to be most admirable about Mr. O was that after that year he decided not to teach the AP class anymore. He decided that all students deserved high quality teachers, not just the honors students. Instead, Mr. O decided to teach classes of students for whom school was more of a struggle, where learning was more challenging.
Reflecting back on both Mrs. G and Mr. O, there are so many of their teaching practices that I try to use with my own students:
1. Pointing out and reinforcing my students' strengths
2. Having high expectations for all students
3. Scaffolding assignments appropriately
4. Using models
5. Giving specific constructive criticism
6. Teaching my students skills and strategies to help them become life-long learners
7. Having my students reflect upon their work
8. Supporting my students' interests and teaching to them when I can such as with calligraphy classes
9. Making learning fun, while challenging at the same time
Working with students with a variety of different learning profiles and learning styles, I am constantly trying to find new ways and approaches of teaching information, skills, and strategies to students. By presenting information in multiple ways, my goal is for all students to be able to access the information and engage with it meaningfully in their own way. My hope is that when students engage with material in a variety of ways it will help make the learning stick for them, just like it did for me in Mr. O's class! I also hope that they will continue to use the skills and strategies that they learn throughout their educational careers, as they become lifelong learners.
Questions to Ponder: Who have been the great teachers in your life? Why were they important to you? What made them good teachers? How have they influenced who you are as a teacher today?
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Photography as an Exercise in Mindfulness
Mindfulness is all about being fully present in the moment. When we live mindfully we are more fully aware of our experiences and surroundings, inquisitive about the world around us, and attentive to the people with whom we interact. Many mindfulness practices involve exercises and activities that help us to focus in on and pay attention to our senses in the present moment.
I enjoy using photography as an exercise in mindfulness. For me, the process of taking pictures allows me to be fully present in the moment-- choosing the subject of my picture, determining what I want the composition to look like, what aspects of the scene I want to make sure to include, and from what angle I want to take the picture. In making these decisions, I try to create pictures that are interesting and thought provoking. I hope that people will engage with my photographs by stopping to think about them and asking questions.
According to Marcel Proust, "The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes." I try to capture images that inspire people to see the the ordinary world in a new way. I believe that seeing things from different perspectives causes us to be present in the moment, pay attention, ask questions, and be curious-- the cornerstones of mindfulness.
In taking photographs, there are several ways that I play around with the perspective to hopefully make them more interesting, thought provoking, and engaging. One aspect that I enjoy experimenting with is the orientation of my pictures. Instead of always taking pictures straight on, at times, I've taken pictures diagonally to highlight a specific feature of the scene, such as in the picture below:
In this picture, the diagonal orientation makes it more interesting-- emphasizing the curve of the path, bringing some movement into the picture. Looking at it, I think about what it would feel like riding a bike around the curve. Examining the scene from this angle makes me engage with the picture-- I wonder what objects are causing which shadows.
Another way that I play around with the orientation of a picture is by rotating it in iphoto after I have downloaded the image onto my computer. Simply rotating the photograph 90 or 180 degrees can change the way viewers interact with it. The picture below was rotated 90 degrees from the original photograph.
My friend Grace commented, "Really interesting-- I love the darkness of the branch contrasting with the green." I was glad that Grace's attention was drawn to the branch and the contrast. The original photograph looked too ordinary, with the branch simply hanging downward. As a result, the eye did not immediately focus on these aspects of the picture. However, by rotating the picture, the viewer does not settle easily into the picture and needs to figure out exactly what he or she is looking at. This forces the viewer to pay more attention to the details, making it more likely that the viewer will be more mindful of specifics and not glance right over them.
Another way that I like to experiment with the perspective of a picture is by playing around with the zoom feature on my camera and the cropping function on iphoto. Zooming in on a particular subject makes myself and the viewer more mindful of specific details-- causing us to pay more attention to them and ask questions. Looking at an object close up can also evoke an emotional response, such as with this picture below.
This picture was cropped from the original so that the stick and the cracking ice became the focal point of the composition. The image is grabbing-- evoking very emotional responses from viewers. My friend Caroline commented, "It has a violent feeling about it, yet it's so natural and innocuous at the same time. Cool concept." My friend Brenda responded, "It looks a little scary to me, as if the ice is cracking, but it's very artistic." The viewers are interacting with the photograph, being mindful in the moment about their feelings.
Zooming in on a subject can also make the viewer ask questions about the scene, such as with the picture below.
Looking at this picture, I wonder what happened to the pumpkin? How was it smashed? How long has it been lying here? Why was it smashed? What was the emotion behind the smashing? Was it a prank or was someone really upset, knocking the pumpkin down in an angry rage?
Last, zooming in on a subject can make the viewer mindful of details and patterns within the picture. Look closely at the picture of the frog below.
Take a minute to examine what Grace noticed, "the markings on the frog and how it blends in with the green." What else do you notice?
I enjoy using photography to help me engage more mindfully with the world around me. To capture images that are hopefully interesting and thought provoking for my viewers, I use photographic techniques such as experimenting with the orientation of pictures, rotating pictures, zooming in closely, and cropping pictures. Hopefully my photographs can get my viewers to see the ordinary world in a new way, causing them to think about things from a different perspective and to engage in the world mindfully by asking questions.
Questions to Ponder: How can you use art (photography, drawing, painting, poetry, sculpting) to be more mindful of the world around you? How can you engage your senses to be fully present in the moment? What kinds of things are you curious about? What activities and interests do you engage in that are thought provoking for you and cause you to ask questions?
I enjoy using photography as an exercise in mindfulness. For me, the process of taking pictures allows me to be fully present in the moment-- choosing the subject of my picture, determining what I want the composition to look like, what aspects of the scene I want to make sure to include, and from what angle I want to take the picture. In making these decisions, I try to create pictures that are interesting and thought provoking. I hope that people will engage with my photographs by stopping to think about them and asking questions.
According to Marcel Proust, "The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes." I try to capture images that inspire people to see the the ordinary world in a new way. I believe that seeing things from different perspectives causes us to be present in the moment, pay attention, ask questions, and be curious-- the cornerstones of mindfulness.
In taking photographs, there are several ways that I play around with the perspective to hopefully make them more interesting, thought provoking, and engaging. One aspect that I enjoy experimenting with is the orientation of my pictures. Instead of always taking pictures straight on, at times, I've taken pictures diagonally to highlight a specific feature of the scene, such as in the picture below:
In this picture, the diagonal orientation makes it more interesting-- emphasizing the curve of the path, bringing some movement into the picture. Looking at it, I think about what it would feel like riding a bike around the curve. Examining the scene from this angle makes me engage with the picture-- I wonder what objects are causing which shadows.
Another way that I play around with the orientation of a picture is by rotating it in iphoto after I have downloaded the image onto my computer. Simply rotating the photograph 90 or 180 degrees can change the way viewers interact with it. The picture below was rotated 90 degrees from the original photograph.
My friend Grace commented, "Really interesting-- I love the darkness of the branch contrasting with the green." I was glad that Grace's attention was drawn to the branch and the contrast. The original photograph looked too ordinary, with the branch simply hanging downward. As a result, the eye did not immediately focus on these aspects of the picture. However, by rotating the picture, the viewer does not settle easily into the picture and needs to figure out exactly what he or she is looking at. This forces the viewer to pay more attention to the details, making it more likely that the viewer will be more mindful of specifics and not glance right over them.
Another way that I like to experiment with the perspective of a picture is by playing around with the zoom feature on my camera and the cropping function on iphoto. Zooming in on a particular subject makes myself and the viewer more mindful of specific details-- causing us to pay more attention to them and ask questions. Looking at an object close up can also evoke an emotional response, such as with this picture below.
This picture was cropped from the original so that the stick and the cracking ice became the focal point of the composition. The image is grabbing-- evoking very emotional responses from viewers. My friend Caroline commented, "It has a violent feeling about it, yet it's so natural and innocuous at the same time. Cool concept." My friend Brenda responded, "It looks a little scary to me, as if the ice is cracking, but it's very artistic." The viewers are interacting with the photograph, being mindful in the moment about their feelings.
Zooming in on a subject can also make the viewer ask questions about the scene, such as with the picture below.
Looking at this picture, I wonder what happened to the pumpkin? How was it smashed? How long has it been lying here? Why was it smashed? What was the emotion behind the smashing? Was it a prank or was someone really upset, knocking the pumpkin down in an angry rage?
Last, zooming in on a subject can make the viewer mindful of details and patterns within the picture. Look closely at the picture of the frog below.
I enjoy using photography to help me engage more mindfully with the world around me. To capture images that are hopefully interesting and thought provoking for my viewers, I use photographic techniques such as experimenting with the orientation of pictures, rotating pictures, zooming in closely, and cropping pictures. Hopefully my photographs can get my viewers to see the ordinary world in a new way, causing them to think about things from a different perspective and to engage in the world mindfully by asking questions.
Questions to Ponder: How can you use art (photography, drawing, painting, poetry, sculpting) to be more mindful of the world around you? How can you engage your senses to be fully present in the moment? What kinds of things are you curious about? What activities and interests do you engage in that are thought provoking for you and cause you to ask questions?
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Conquering Fear Through Poetry (Or at Least Diminishing It!)
Sometimes writing can help us conquer or at least diminish our fears. By placing the object of fear at the center of a piece of writing, a healthy distance is often created. This way, the writer can explore the fear in a safe manner. I wrote such a poem back in October 2009-- about an animal that had left me in a panicked state five months earlier.
My fear developed one warm spring evening in May 2010. Sitting at my dining room table, I heard a soft whooshing sound. Turning my head, I saw a black-winged creature fly past my ear. For the next minute, this creature flew in large figure eights, back and forth, between the dining room and the living room. Opening the front door, I hoped that it would fly out of my house. At the same time, I was nervous that another one would fly in.
Unsure about the identity of this black-winged creature (a bird or a bat?), I called my landlords (Connie and Joe) who conveniently lived upstairs on the second floor. Armed with brooms, they spent the next half hour assessing the situation. Tapping on cupboards, looking between blinds, bending over to look underneath furniture, and opening cabinets, there was no black creature in sight. "Call us if you see it again," they told me as they exited my apartment.
Standing in the middle of the dining room, I thought to myself, "It must be a bird. It didn't look like a bat. Hopefully it will turn up tomorrow and I'll be able to get it to fly outside." With this line of reasoning, two hours of solid sleep ensued.
Around one o'clock in the morning, I awoke and walked around my apartment for a few minutes. Nestling back underneath the covers, I was about to close my eyes when I spotted the black-winged bird circling above me. I grabbed my pillow and blanket and ran out of my bedroom, slamming the wooden door behind me. Although startled, my worries were now put to rest, at least for the night, since it was securely shut in my room. Placing my pillow and blanket on the dark blue couch in the living room, I made myself comfortable, eager to get some sleep, or so I thought...
My nerves, still slightly rattled, I decided to sleep with the living room light on. Resting my head on the pillow, I glanced out in front of me and glimpsed an image that still haunts me to this day. Perched on the tips of its outstretched wings on the light wooden floor of my hallway, two piercing eyes stared right out at me. "Oh my God, it's a bat," my heart whispered as my breath was trapped in my stomach.
Jumping straight out off the couch like a jack-in-the-box, I flew through the kitchen and out the back door. Fear gripped my body as I stood stiffly, shivering and shaking on my back porch, in shock. As a cool breeze brushed against my legs, it dawned on me that I was standing outside of my house, barefoot, in my pajamas, at 1:30 in the morning, without a key. I was locked out. But that was the least of my worries...there was a bat in my house!
Tears streaming down my face, body trembling, the outdoor lights came on over the driveway as I carefully walked to the front door, making sure not to step on any pebbles or other sharp objects. Regulating my breathing was difficult as I stood, hand poised over Connie and Joe's doorbell, debating whether or not I should wake them up in the middle of the night.
Suddenly a light turned on as I heard heavy footsteps quickly creak down the steps from the second floor. Connie swung open the front door, took one look at my red blotchy face and said, "Are you OK? Did it come back? I heard you downstairs." Giving me a hug, she motioned me into the house and said, "Come inside. We'll take care of this." Dressed in their pajamas, Connie and Joe sat down with me on their couch and asked me what happened. After recounting the story over a cup of hot mint tea, they informed me that they were going downstairs to take care of the bat and that I was welcome to rest on their couch. More than several minutes passed when I heard the chimes of their grandfather clock signal 2:00 in the morning and thumping noises coming from my apartment. It wasn't until Connie and Joe came back upstairs that I found out what had occurred....
When Connie and Joe first entered my apartment, they once again searched for the bat and didn't find anything. So they shut off the lights, sat on my couch, and waited for the darkness to entice it out of its hiding spot. After a few minutes, they spotted the bat flying in circles overhead in the living room. Turning on the lights, the bat soon became disoriented and they tapped the ceiling with their broomsticks, hoping that the bat would fall to the ground. Eventually it did and it curled up, folding its wings underneath itself. Seizing the opportunity, Connie threw a towel over the bat and proceeded to stomp on it, repeatedly, until she was sure that it was dead. As my landlords walked back into their apartment, Connie greeted me, holding a wrapped up towel in her arms. Reaching out toward me she said, "It's dead. We took care of it. Do you want to see it?"
"No! I don't want to see it!" I replied in horror.
Still shaken up from the incident, my landlords thankfully allowed me to sleep on their couch that night. For several weeks afterward, falling asleep was difficult since I envisioned a bat flying into my room or hanging inside my closet. At the time, I was reading a book at school with my students called, "Owl in the Shower". For some reason, when the visions of the bat came into my head, I pictured an owl sweeping in and eating the bat. It wasn't until a few days later that I learned that owls are indeed predators of bats.
Owls became my protectors and as a gesture of support, my good friend (I'll call her Brenda), gave me a stuffed owl that hoots when its stomach is pressed. Resting on my night table, this owl comforted me for the next few weeks when I looked at it before I went to sleep. Owls soon started to hold a special place in my heart.
Fast forward five months later to when a poet, whose speciality is Chinese poetry, came to my school to lead a workshop with the fourth grade students. Participating in the activity with them, I had brought in a special object as each of the students had. Placing my stuffed owl on the table, I followed the directions of the poet as he told us to look at our object, listen to a special sound that he would make by running a wooden stick along the inside of a bowl, and to let our imaginations go. And that is how the poem featured below was created.
Metamorphosis
Cowering in shadows
Huddled in corners
Shielding against onslaught
of ferocious, teeth baring bats.
Arms outstretched
Lying atop wings of owl
Soaring, gliding, whisking
through mountain landscape
Arctic air rushes past ears
Majestic snow-capped mountains
dotted by dark green pine trees
Ice piercing wind
makes every tip of my body sing
Head ducks
beneath stalactites and stalagmites
Guarding cavernous opening
Dark black envelopes me
As high-pitched shrieking, teeth baring bats
zoom toward me
Mouth opens wide
Bats fly through my lungs, arms, legs
Bats become me.
I become the bats.
Riding on the wings of the owl in the poem helped me to fly right into my fear, the bats, eventually becoming them and making me feel more empowered.
Questions to ponder: What are you scared of? How can you use poetry, writing, or some other art form to help conquer or diminish a fear? Have you ever done this before? How did that make you feel?
My fear developed one warm spring evening in May 2010. Sitting at my dining room table, I heard a soft whooshing sound. Turning my head, I saw a black-winged creature fly past my ear. For the next minute, this creature flew in large figure eights, back and forth, between the dining room and the living room. Opening the front door, I hoped that it would fly out of my house. At the same time, I was nervous that another one would fly in.
Unsure about the identity of this black-winged creature (a bird or a bat?), I called my landlords (Connie and Joe) who conveniently lived upstairs on the second floor. Armed with brooms, they spent the next half hour assessing the situation. Tapping on cupboards, looking between blinds, bending over to look underneath furniture, and opening cabinets, there was no black creature in sight. "Call us if you see it again," they told me as they exited my apartment.
Standing in the middle of the dining room, I thought to myself, "It must be a bird. It didn't look like a bat. Hopefully it will turn up tomorrow and I'll be able to get it to fly outside." With this line of reasoning, two hours of solid sleep ensued.
Around one o'clock in the morning, I awoke and walked around my apartment for a few minutes. Nestling back underneath the covers, I was about to close my eyes when I spotted the black-winged bird circling above me. I grabbed my pillow and blanket and ran out of my bedroom, slamming the wooden door behind me. Although startled, my worries were now put to rest, at least for the night, since it was securely shut in my room. Placing my pillow and blanket on the dark blue couch in the living room, I made myself comfortable, eager to get some sleep, or so I thought...
My nerves, still slightly rattled, I decided to sleep with the living room light on. Resting my head on the pillow, I glanced out in front of me and glimpsed an image that still haunts me to this day. Perched on the tips of its outstretched wings on the light wooden floor of my hallway, two piercing eyes stared right out at me. "Oh my God, it's a bat," my heart whispered as my breath was trapped in my stomach.
Jumping straight out off the couch like a jack-in-the-box, I flew through the kitchen and out the back door. Fear gripped my body as I stood stiffly, shivering and shaking on my back porch, in shock. As a cool breeze brushed against my legs, it dawned on me that I was standing outside of my house, barefoot, in my pajamas, at 1:30 in the morning, without a key. I was locked out. But that was the least of my worries...there was a bat in my house!
Tears streaming down my face, body trembling, the outdoor lights came on over the driveway as I carefully walked to the front door, making sure not to step on any pebbles or other sharp objects. Regulating my breathing was difficult as I stood, hand poised over Connie and Joe's doorbell, debating whether or not I should wake them up in the middle of the night.
Suddenly a light turned on as I heard heavy footsteps quickly creak down the steps from the second floor. Connie swung open the front door, took one look at my red blotchy face and said, "Are you OK? Did it come back? I heard you downstairs." Giving me a hug, she motioned me into the house and said, "Come inside. We'll take care of this." Dressed in their pajamas, Connie and Joe sat down with me on their couch and asked me what happened. After recounting the story over a cup of hot mint tea, they informed me that they were going downstairs to take care of the bat and that I was welcome to rest on their couch. More than several minutes passed when I heard the chimes of their grandfather clock signal 2:00 in the morning and thumping noises coming from my apartment. It wasn't until Connie and Joe came back upstairs that I found out what had occurred....
When Connie and Joe first entered my apartment, they once again searched for the bat and didn't find anything. So they shut off the lights, sat on my couch, and waited for the darkness to entice it out of its hiding spot. After a few minutes, they spotted the bat flying in circles overhead in the living room. Turning on the lights, the bat soon became disoriented and they tapped the ceiling with their broomsticks, hoping that the bat would fall to the ground. Eventually it did and it curled up, folding its wings underneath itself. Seizing the opportunity, Connie threw a towel over the bat and proceeded to stomp on it, repeatedly, until she was sure that it was dead. As my landlords walked back into their apartment, Connie greeted me, holding a wrapped up towel in her arms. Reaching out toward me she said, "It's dead. We took care of it. Do you want to see it?"
"No! I don't want to see it!" I replied in horror.
Still shaken up from the incident, my landlords thankfully allowed me to sleep on their couch that night. For several weeks afterward, falling asleep was difficult since I envisioned a bat flying into my room or hanging inside my closet. At the time, I was reading a book at school with my students called, "Owl in the Shower". For some reason, when the visions of the bat came into my head, I pictured an owl sweeping in and eating the bat. It wasn't until a few days later that I learned that owls are indeed predators of bats.
Owls became my protectors and as a gesture of support, my good friend (I'll call her Brenda), gave me a stuffed owl that hoots when its stomach is pressed. Resting on my night table, this owl comforted me for the next few weeks when I looked at it before I went to sleep. Owls soon started to hold a special place in my heart.
Fast forward five months later to when a poet, whose speciality is Chinese poetry, came to my school to lead a workshop with the fourth grade students. Participating in the activity with them, I had brought in a special object as each of the students had. Placing my stuffed owl on the table, I followed the directions of the poet as he told us to look at our object, listen to a special sound that he would make by running a wooden stick along the inside of a bowl, and to let our imaginations go. And that is how the poem featured below was created.
Metamorphosis
Cowering in shadows
Huddled in corners
Shielding against onslaught
of ferocious, teeth baring bats.
Arms outstretched
Lying atop wings of owl
Soaring, gliding, whisking
through mountain landscape
Arctic air rushes past ears
Majestic snow-capped mountains
dotted by dark green pine trees
Ice piercing wind
makes every tip of my body sing
Head ducks
beneath stalactites and stalagmites
Guarding cavernous opening
Dark black envelopes me
As high-pitched shrieking, teeth baring bats
zoom toward me
Mouth opens wide
Bats fly through my lungs, arms, legs
Bats become me.
I become the bats.
Riding on the wings of the owl in the poem helped me to fly right into my fear, the bats, eventually becoming them and making me feel more empowered.
Questions to ponder: What are you scared of? How can you use poetry, writing, or some other art form to help conquer or diminish a fear? Have you ever done this before? How did that make you feel?
Sunday, August 15, 2010
The Power of Cropping and Mentors
The first few times I took nature photographs I was lucky. Due to just the right lighting and having the extraordinary luck of being in the right place at the right time, I was fortunate to capture some magical moments on film such as the picture featured in the first blog entry (Extraordinary Within the Ordinary) and the picture below that I took by a field outside my school one morning.
However, once I started venturing outside with the specific purpose of taking pictures, I was frustrated that my photographs did not all contain that magical quality. "Beginner's luck" I thought to myself, until I learned a new way of thinking about taking pictures....cropping.
A good friend, (I'll call her Grace), introduced me to the power of cropping. An avid photographer with a flare for nature photography, she frequently posts series of her pictures on Facebook. Then a few hours or sometimes a day or two later, she adds several more pictures to her album. These pictures are versions of original photos that Grace has manipulated in some way-- either by changing a color picture to black and white, adjusting the lighting, rotating the orientation, or cropping a section of a picture. I always appreciate how the manipulated version highlights a specific aspect of the original picture that particularly catches her interest such as texture, composition, lighting, subject matter, contrast, etc.
Impressed by Grace's photography skills and eye for visual detail, I asked her to help me, to become my photography mentor. "Look at my pictures-- let me know what works and what I can do to make them better." Over the past year, Grace's comments, critiques, and suggestions have helped form my inner photography critic. They have helped me to start determining when a picture works, when and what part of a picture needs to be cropped, and why. In studying Grace's photographs to figure out what makes them so striking, I have been inspired to take pictures, try her techniques, and develop criteria of what makes a good nature photograph.
Below is one of my pictures that Grace helped me to crop. She commented on the picture: "Interesting colors on the left and at the shore -- would be interesting if you cropped the background and just kept the foreground."
The cropped version of this picture, below, draws more attention to the colors on the left and on the shore, as well as to the textures of the bush and the mud. Cropping the picture allows the eye to focus on these interesting details, whereas in the original picture, the eye keeps jumping around because there are too many details to look at.
After trying out Grace's suggestions on several of my photographs, I began experimenting with cropping. I particularly like the Monet-esque quality of the picture below, which was obtained by zooming in on a particular section of a photograph.
Believe it or not, I created this image from the photograph below.
By cropping the reflection of the house in the water and rotating it 180 degrees, I was able to achieve the desired effect. Once again, Grace's influence inspired me to take a series of pictures of the reflection of this house in the water, as her pictures often capture particularly interesting colors, textures, and patterns in water reflections.
I attribute a large part of my developing photography skills to Grace. By sharing her natural talent of photography, giving constructive criticism, and suggesting specific things to try, she has inspired me to experiment and take risks with my photographs. Grace has also taught me that there is no need to feel frustrated with the way a shot originally comes out. Now I know how to look closer, find an aspect of the picture that I like, and highlight it using powerful techniques such as cropping.
Questions to Ponder: What natural talents and passions do you have to share with the world? How can you share them in a way that would inspire others to try their hand at them and take risks? Are there Graces in your life who have inspired you to pursue an area of interest? How can you thank the mentors in your life?
However, once I started venturing outside with the specific purpose of taking pictures, I was frustrated that my photographs did not all contain that magical quality. "Beginner's luck" I thought to myself, until I learned a new way of thinking about taking pictures....cropping.
A good friend, (I'll call her Grace), introduced me to the power of cropping. An avid photographer with a flare for nature photography, she frequently posts series of her pictures on Facebook. Then a few hours or sometimes a day or two later, she adds several more pictures to her album. These pictures are versions of original photos that Grace has manipulated in some way-- either by changing a color picture to black and white, adjusting the lighting, rotating the orientation, or cropping a section of a picture. I always appreciate how the manipulated version highlights a specific aspect of the original picture that particularly catches her interest such as texture, composition, lighting, subject matter, contrast, etc.
Impressed by Grace's photography skills and eye for visual detail, I asked her to help me, to become my photography mentor. "Look at my pictures-- let me know what works and what I can do to make them better." Over the past year, Grace's comments, critiques, and suggestions have helped form my inner photography critic. They have helped me to start determining when a picture works, when and what part of a picture needs to be cropped, and why. In studying Grace's photographs to figure out what makes them so striking, I have been inspired to take pictures, try her techniques, and develop criteria of what makes a good nature photograph.
Below is one of my pictures that Grace helped me to crop. She commented on the picture: "Interesting colors on the left and at the shore -- would be interesting if you cropped the background and just kept the foreground."
The cropped version of this picture, below, draws more attention to the colors on the left and on the shore, as well as to the textures of the bush and the mud. Cropping the picture allows the eye to focus on these interesting details, whereas in the original picture, the eye keeps jumping around because there are too many details to look at.
After trying out Grace's suggestions on several of my photographs, I began experimenting with cropping. I particularly like the Monet-esque quality of the picture below, which was obtained by zooming in on a particular section of a photograph.
Believe it or not, I created this image from the photograph below.
By cropping the reflection of the house in the water and rotating it 180 degrees, I was able to achieve the desired effect. Once again, Grace's influence inspired me to take a series of pictures of the reflection of this house in the water, as her pictures often capture particularly interesting colors, textures, and patterns in water reflections.
I attribute a large part of my developing photography skills to Grace. By sharing her natural talent of photography, giving constructive criticism, and suggesting specific things to try, she has inspired me to experiment and take risks with my photographs. Grace has also taught me that there is no need to feel frustrated with the way a shot originally comes out. Now I know how to look closer, find an aspect of the picture that I like, and highlight it using powerful techniques such as cropping.
Questions to Ponder: What natural talents and passions do you have to share with the world? How can you share them in a way that would inspire others to try their hand at them and take risks? Are there Graces in your life who have inspired you to pursue an area of interest? How can you thank the mentors in your life?
Sunday, August 8, 2010
A Magical Place
Sometimes a photograph can not capture the full essence of a moment, especially when there is more than just visual information that is central to the experience. In the featured video at the end of this post, both sound and movement were so key, that a visual image alone would not do justice to the scene. As a result, I was inspired to take a nature video with my digital camera for the first time.
In May 2010, I had the incredible opportunity of taking a professional development workshop on questing in the town forest of the district in which I work. For an hour and a half, a colleague and I were assigned the task of creating activities that our students could engage in by the pond and vernal pool. Inspired by the sights, sounds, and movements, we created a poetry exercise that would require the kids to incorporate the senses into a poem. Afterward, my colleague and I commented on how magical the town forest was-- never had we heard so many green frogs croaking in that area and we were not aware of the passing of time.
Driving home at the end of the day, I composed the following haiku in my head to try to capture the sound of the chorus of frogs serenading us:
Frog acapella
Deep-throat, base croaking noises
A symphony of frogs.
During the inevitable stress that the end of the school year always brings, I returned to this video many times. Each time I watched it, it brought me back to that magical place where time stood still and the only thing to focus on was the sound and the movement of the frogs.
Some questions to ponder: Where is your magical place? What effect does this place have on you? When have you experienced time standing still? This is an open invitation to anyone who would like to respond with a word, phrase, sentence, or paragraph. If you would like to respond with a picture or video, please email me at: courageousteacherartist@gmail.com and I will post it for you.
In May 2010, I had the incredible opportunity of taking a professional development workshop on questing in the town forest of the district in which I work. For an hour and a half, a colleague and I were assigned the task of creating activities that our students could engage in by the pond and vernal pool. Inspired by the sights, sounds, and movements, we created a poetry exercise that would require the kids to incorporate the senses into a poem. Afterward, my colleague and I commented on how magical the town forest was-- never had we heard so many green frogs croaking in that area and we were not aware of the passing of time.
Driving home at the end of the day, I composed the following haiku in my head to try to capture the sound of the chorus of frogs serenading us:
Frog acapella
Deep-throat, base croaking noises
A symphony of frogs.
During the inevitable stress that the end of the school year always brings, I returned to this video many times. Each time I watched it, it brought me back to that magical place where time stood still and the only thing to focus on was the sound and the movement of the frogs.
Some questions to ponder: Where is your magical place? What effect does this place have on you? When have you experienced time standing still? This is an open invitation to anyone who would like to respond with a word, phrase, sentence, or paragraph. If you would like to respond with a picture or video, please email me at: courageousteacherartist@gmail.com and I will post it for you.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Extraordinary within the Ordinary
A few days later, I consulted with a photography expert who advised me to Photoshop out the soccer net and the fence to the tennis court. However, I decided to keep them in since to me, they add to the beauty of the shot. What made this picture so incredible to me, was seeing something extraordinary within the ordinary.
The first question I pose is: When have you been struck by something extraordinary in everyday life? How did the juxtaposition of extraordinary within the ordinary make it even more special? How did the experience make you feel or think about the world in a different way? This is an invitation to anyone who would like to respond with a written comment, a poem, a visual image, or a video.
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