So much of Wendy Luttrell’s work resonated with me that I almost find it difficult to begin this entry. We share an interest in the space where image, voice and narrative intersect and how that space supports identity formation during the “between” moments of human life. We also agree this is important work that can be used to inform teacher practice and teacher development by acknowledging additional ways of knowing.

Her work in an urban elementary school, as she recounts in ‘A camera is a big responsibility’: a lens for analysing children’s visual voices, raises some significant points with regard to working with children in arts-based research. She highlights the challenge of “finding the line between children’s voices and those of adult researchers, who see to represent them.” The researcher unassumingly becomes the curator by making decisions on the information that is included or perhaps by the types of question prompts that are posed. While there may not be a way to remove the fingerprints, it speaks to a mindfulness of (and commitment to) the integrity of a child’s voice.

Littrell moved through this study with minimal restrictions or adult guidance. In the true spirit of photography, it is an exploration. This is something I’ve thought about a lot over the past few days in terms of my own work. While migration is the catalyst of identity schisms for all of the students I work with, I wonder if it is too restrictive. What if the themes were broader and more universal? I wonder where children might take us if given a camera to capture feelings of exclusion…and then belonging. I wonder what that voice might say, not only about individual experience, but also about society. What cultural and ideological conventions could we infer?

As part of Luttrell’s methodology of working with child photographers, debrief interviews were voice recorded and video taped. I find that this really elevates the research process to a form of analysis itself. Both types of recordings provide a richness that goes beyond word choice and delves deeper into values (listening for care) and the interactions between how they see themselves and how they want to be seen (interacting with the video camera). I am considering how I will record the interactions I will have with the student I am working with this semester.

The artist’s pursuit to challenge and transform the status quo rests on Bell Hook’s compelling argument for the transgressive image. According to Hook, the real work begins with “creating alternatives, asking ourselves questions about what types of images subvert, pose critical alternatives and transform our worldviews and move us away from dualistic thinking about good and bad.” Representation comes from an understanding of collective history and the perspective from which we create. This is timely, as I’ve read through a multitude of reactions to the recent unveiling of President Obama’s and First Lady Michelle Obama’s portraits. I am particularly interested in Baltimore painter Amy Sherald’s representation of Michelle Obama and her decision to paint the First Lady’s skin in grey tones. Skin color, a traditional form of race identification, was completely excluded (https://www.newyorker.com/culture/annals-of-appearances/the-mystery-of-amy-sheralds-portrait-of-michelle-obama). In terms of the Hook reading, I wonder what this says about the political perspective from which the artist paints. In my interpretation, by devaluing skin color and ultimately stripping away the racial charge, it renders the “white” narrative powerless. Sherald still taps into the collective black past, however, in other ways such as the geometric shapes on Michelle Obama’s dress that remind the artist of quilt making artisans in Alabama.

I’m not sure if there are transformational representations of undocumented migrant youth at this point but the readings this week have opened the avenue for exploration. Thus far, the perspective largely communicates a narrative of the oppressed laborer (i.e. Alto Arizona Art Campaign Poster) or the law-breaking, wall-hopping runner (i.e. Michael Wells, Collaborating Photographer of The Land of Open Graves). This is important for me to look at this critically because young adults in my project may need to select images to be the descriptors of their experience and identity. Do the available images retell the same oppressed narrative or are we forced to create the alternative image?

My work with students has primarily been to provide the skills and the space for them to wrestle with and/or express issues that arise from the migration process. If we were to organize such a process, the containers would simply be pre-migration, migration and post-migration. The pre-migration phase captures the conditions of the child’s life in his or her home country. It questions the stability of the home environment, whether the child was exposed to war, violence and/or health issues. The migration phase is the physical movement from one place to another. The ease or difficulty of travel as well as immigration status can be considered focal points of this phase. Lastly, in post-migration, children may experience cultural and language barriers, a disrupted family structure, and changes in their socioeconomic position. These variables are different for each child and are experienced to varying degrees of psychological distress or trauma.

After last week’s discussion, I thought more deeply about what students’ visual representation of traumatic experiences communicates to teachers. As a pedagogue working with immigrant children in the public school system I often view students from a post-migration perspective with only small windows into the pre-migration and migration phases. Visual components, such as the digital stories by middle school students, offer a way for students to communicate difficult knowledge beyond the observable. Why is this so important? It is because traumatic stress can present itself in a number of ways in the classroom. A student can be withdrawn or apathetic. A student can show defiance or aggression. A student can be the class clown. It would be easy for unknowing teachers to scold and punish children for such behavior.

Then I thought about the modes of representation in Victoria’s Restler’s piece some more as well as an article Gene sent over by Britzman & Pitt (2003). Britzman & Pitt (2003) view education as an “exemplary site where the crisis of representation that is outside meets the crisis of representation that is inside.” My project took on more depth. I would like to juxtapose students’ visual stories or representation of their difficult knowledge with teacher narratives or descriptors of the students. This multimodality project would explore the synergies and tensions between the inside and the outside, the observable and the unobservable, student voice and teacher perception, in a classroom of undocumented students. I’m unsure exactly how I’m going to represent this; I am open to suggestions!

I’d like to share with you an image of a set of hands shaping clay for the first time. I captured this photograph while one of my kindergarten students was busy creating a cat. I can still remember the excitement in his fingers as he pinched the ears and the slight hesitancy in his voice when he used the new word “pinched” to narrate his actions. As a kindergarten teacher of language learners I hold space for many “firsts” and it is one of the greatest joys of my life. This photo also represents not a “first” but perhaps a new chapter in my teaching career. Before making the leap to elementary school, I taught 8^th grade ENL/ELA for 5 years in south Brooklyn. It was there I felt the weight of migration trauma in the classroom and teacher burnout. So these days my work life is a bit more light-hearted and I’ve learned not to be so self-critical because, let’s face it, it’s hard to take yourself too seriously when you have a five year old wrapped around your ankle.

Visual art, in a variety of mediums, as always played a large role in my classrooms. In the middle school setting, digital storytelling was a way for many of my newcomer students to celebrate their heritage, to grieve whatever it is they lost in the migration process, or more often than not, to wrestle with the duality of their identity. The images they carefully selected for their stories helped them build an authentic narrative and a voice they could carry out into the world. In the elementary school setting, drawing is the precursor to oral and written communication. While my kinders can readily communicate needs and wants, drawing is the best way for them to communicate what they feel as they develop emotional intelligence.

Barone and Eisner (2012) cast a bleak picture for arts-based research in education. The governing sentiment seemed to be that such unclear or “messy” methods and outcomes could not impact teaching and learning in a meaningful way. It is important to remember that in 2012 we were at the height of the Common Core roll out, student performance on standardized assessments became the measure of success and teacher bashing on public platforms was largely accepted. Yikes. However, I do believe the climate is changing. As school systems recognize the impact of the social and emotional well-being of students on learning and more importantly, accept responsibility for it, arts based research will ride that wave. This connection is made more apparent as Barone and Eisner (2012) state, “In arts based research, the aim is to create an expressive form that will enable an individual to secure an empathic participation in the lives of others and in the situations studied.” Such emotional expression is our greatest insight into how students feel and offers invaluable information on how to motivate, and ultimately, teach students. In my experience, I have found this to be particularly powerful when working with marginalized populations such as English language learners and students with disabilities.