Capturing a Peculiar Kind of Joy

Last month, I received a wonderful gift from a student: a copy of Humans of New York.

The book is a companion to photographer Brandon Stanton's popular tumblr blog and website of the same name. In the preface to the book, Stanton explains that photography was not his initial profession; he was a trader. Photography was his hobby, albeit one that took up more and more of his time. When he lost his trading job, he "wanted to spend the next phase of my life doing work that I valued." He did not intend to photograph people, but "the portraits" of "strangers on the street" ended up being "the most compelling photographs." 

As he began posting his favorites, others took notice. And once he started interviewing his subjects, he knew he had a powerful, captivating project with an endless supply of subjects. As he puts it, in New York "the sidewalks are covered with people. . .There [are] tons of them."

I love this story.

After all, look at what it entails: vision, observation, perseverance, chance, gratitude, connection. And joy. Flipping through the pages, the work evokes the deeply human need to be present and counted. It is like looking at a visual representation of Walt Whitman's great catalogues. In these pages are the crowds Whitman endlessly records. But just as in Whitman's work, the crowds are not faceless. They are comprised of individuals, each playing his or her part in "the powerful play." Images of light captured and shared.

Lately, with teaching, I have been trying to define and document, along with other educators, the special moments that take place between me and my students (and colleagues). On twitter, we have started to refer to these as moments of . . .

This is a peculiar kind of joy, hence the desire to capture it.

The moments do not have to be epic successes. Anyone who has been in the classroom knows that some of the most staggeringly wonderful moments are much quieter, sometimes even resulting from failure. Of course, as the word "moment" implies, these also tend to be fleeting. 

Teaching is a tough job--the material, the directives, the personalities. All of these must be negotiated with an eye always on the ultimate goal: to help people find within themselves the ability, the wherewithal, the motivation, honesty, skill, love, and curiosity to be well, to grow, to be recognized and give recognition to others. 

Well-being  Growth  Recognition

These can be achieved only when there is a relationship based on more than institutional mandate. It can happen only when there is a relationship that is trusting, respectful, open, honest, and hopeful. Not to mention one that can tolerate some healthy skepticism and contentiousness. Given this list of descriptors, it would make sense to see time as a key building block for this kind of relationship. No way can it happen overnight. However, in the classroom the days are marked from the outset. Perhaps this is what makes the relationship so challenging and the job so demanding. 

With a limited timeframe in which to develop the relationship and make it flourish, it is no wonder there can be such tension, anxiety, let-down, angst, and uncertainty. Come to think of it, that the relationship produces success ever is somewhat of a shock. That the relationship does foster 

Well-being  Growth  Recognition. . .

is what leads to 

And it is why capturing these moments is vital; capturing helps keep us mindful of what makes teaching a deeply moving, critical profession. So here are a few moments worth documenting:

I feel #edjoy while viewing the honest way a student expresses her battle with depression, 

while reading the thoughtful way a student responds to one of my blogposts 

while observing students working together in sincere ways

while watching students create themselves and comment on their community 

It is a paradox that, for an institution focused on people, education can be quite dehumanizing. Especially in our current era of standardization. But this video clip from a longer student work? I could watch it endlessly. Like Stanton's discovery on the streets of New York, this illustrates brilliantly why edjoy is so potent. It is about people. I feel its rightness in my chest.  So, to summarize: 

Perhaps what we educators (and students) need is a book or a blog so we can document and remember the depth of what we do and who we are. What do you think?