Image: ‘Pumpkin carving’
http://www.flickr.com/photos/99472898@N00/5127099146
Used with a Creative Commons license
Found via my favorite CC image search engine

And for those of you who like a little less cute and a little more Neil Gaiman, here’s his Halloween message (via @donalynbooks):

Last week’s blog post about the National Archives (featuring Dorothea Lange’s photo of a migrant worker) reminded me of the Dorothea Lange photos collected by Calisphere showing the Japanese relocation to Manzanar, California during World War II.

I knew Lange best for this image:

We Are California - The Great Internal Migrations via kwout

So when I stumbled on the Lange/Manzanar photos a few months ago, I was really surprised.   The Japanese internment experience is rarely discussed during World War II, but when it is, it adds a powerful dimension and can provoke conversations about who is “really” American at a time when anti-immigration policies are ramping up again. The photos show folks who do what “we Americans” do, challenging the anti-Asian racism of the time.

As I browsed the images again, I realized that there is huge power in the juxtaposition of images.  One thing we can do with students regardless of age is tap into their visual learning preference by asking them to comment not just on one image but on two juxtaposed images.  For example, here are screenshots of two wash lines.  If you showed one and asked students to comment on the owners, then showed the other and asked the same question, how would the student responses differ? What if they were the same laundry line? What can we learn about citizens whose clothelines contain both Eastern and Western clothing? How could this connect them to a conversation about Japanese internment, pride in Japanese heritage, or the historical setting of Farewell to Manzanar?

Source: Calisphere

Source: Calisphere

You can view more of the Dorothea Lange photodocumentation of Japanese internment on the Calisphere Web site.

My friend Julie and I sat at neighboring computers this spring and shared our favorite blogs with each other.

One of the ones I have really enjoyed since then is Today’s Document from the National Archives. As the blog title suggests, each day, there is a new blog post featuring an image, document, or other item from the Archives’ collection, along with some supplemental information that gives historical information and/or context about the item.

It’s fun for us closeted history buffs, but it also feeds us a new possible primary source teaching tool each day.

When I see the posts in my Google Reader account, I see only a tiny detail from the overall image.  For example, here’s a screen shot of the RSS feed from May:

All you can see of the image is a wee pair of bare feet. I instantly connect to those little feet. They remind me of my niece, who would love to go barefoot if she were allowed. The right foot is tipped to one side. They’re feet with personality.

Click through to the post, though, and the view changes.  Here is the complete image you see:

Wow. Did your connection to the photograph change? Mine did. I still see someone my niece’s age, but now the context is so different.  The bare feet become a sign of want, not childhood freedom. She’s taller and thinner than my niece — not as well-nourished. She has a stained dress. 

What the Archives does in those small “keyhole” images in the RSS feed is invite us in, to look more closely, to gain greater intimacy with the image.  When the larger image is shown to us, the intimacy stays even as the perspective pans outward.

What you can’t see in the screenshot above is that the Archives page also includes links to related images, teaching plans, and more.  So if an image grabs you and connects to the lessons you’re working on, the resources are right there!

I’m a huge fan of using primary sources to jumpstart conversations and brainstorm questions, as has been shown in lots of posts and in my book for kids.

In these lazy summer days, consider how the images of the National Archives, American Memory, the Smithsonian, and more could be truncated into smaller pieces that could create a similar sense of telescoping intimacy. The delight we find in taking a micro-look at images can translate to a similar pleasure for learners of all ages.