This week, I am attending the virtual Digital Pedagogy Lab 2020 conference. I’m in the “Critical Visual Dialogues” stream and, after only two days, my mind is full of images and my brain is questioning them in all sorts of ways. One of yesterday’s assignments was to “choose an image that is significant to you in some way and write a poem or some creative writing in response to it.” Despite having approximately a million photos at my fingertips, I could not choose an image. I got myself all wound up in what any choice would say about me. To make matters worse, we are sharing lots of our work on Twitter and Instagram, so there’s a public nature to it.
We also had to (ok, we *have* to do nothing: our leaders, Daniel Lynds & Francesca Sobande have been very clear that we are driving the course. That said, they offer us activities every day, and the activities are really interesting, so I want to do them.) “share some form of a visual self-portrait… anything from a memoji or selfie to a painting or photograph that you feel tells us something about you.” I was startled at how long it took me to choose a picture. It’s been a while since I felt out of my depth at a conference, but that’s what I’m feeling. I know this means good things in the long run, but right now it’s uncomfortable.
I’m a slow thinker – or at least a slow synthesizer of information – so I’m not quite ready to put all of my thoughts about this into a blog post, but I did try to write about all this for a while this morning. I found myself getting frustrated – my ideas were swirling too fast to catch, and everything I wrote seemed trite even though my thoughts feel complex. I was ready to give up. Then, I read Jessica’s blog post, Glitter, about a moment when one of her daughters’ observations about the ocean in the morning turned into a haiku. Jessica’s ability to bring the joy of words into her children’s lives is inspiring. Her ability to see those precious moments & capture them in writing, even more so. Her post was like a deep breath of love.
Suddenly, I knew what images I wanted to use: pictures of my children. And I knew what I wanted to capture with my words: the sense of the fleeting nature of their childhood. Images capture moments – slices of life, if you will – and haiku does that, too. Both photographs and haiku can leave us with a definite, though unstated, emotional response. Perfect. So, here’s my response to yesterday’s assignment:
Underwater boy caught between the elements who will you become?
He controls the fire his power barely contained on a glowing stick
Thanks to Two Writing Teachers for hosting this weekly blog and to Digital Pedagogy Lab for organizing a conference that is shaking up my thinking.