Through Their Eyes
It never fails. The moment I hand a camera to a student — especially one who’s never held one before — I’m reminded of something adults often forget: children don’t see the world the way we do. They notice the corners we overlook, the patterns we dismiss, the emotions we’ve learned to file away under “not now.”
They see in a way that’s pure. Unfiltered. Unpretentious.
And in that seeing, they often teach me more than I could ever teach them.
The Magic of the “Wrong” Shot
One of my favorite parts of teaching photography is witnessing how students challenge the idea of what makes a photo “good.” Adults tend to come into photography wanting rules: “Where should I put the subject?” “Is this in focus?” “Does it follow the rule of thirds?”
Kids? Not so much.
They tilt the camera. They crop off heads. They snap the photo before the moment is “ready.” But in doing so, they give us access to raw and honest stories — ones that often feel more alive than anything technically perfect.
Sometimes their photos are blurry — because they’re excited and trying to chase light. Sometimes the subject is almost out of frame — because what caught their attention wasn’t the object but the feeling around it.
It’s not about what they should see. It’s about what they do see.
They Notice the Forgotten Things
I once had a student take 23 pictures of cracks in the sidewalk. When I asked what drew her in, she said, “They look like maps.”
Another student took a photo of her dad’s work boots sitting by the door. Nothing else in the frame — just the boots. “He’s always gone before I wake up,” she said quietly. “That’s how I know he was home.”
Children see stories in places we overlook. They see meaning in objects we deem mundane. Their gaze isn’t dulled by habit or speed or the pressure to be productive. They’re present in a way that invites us to slow down, too.
A Different Kind of Intelligence
Adults often underestimate what children are capable of. But I’ve seen, time and time again, the emotional intelligence and creativity that surface when a student is invited to express themselves through visual language.
Their photos say:
“This is who I am.”
“This is what I’m scared of.”
“This is what I love.”
It’s not always easy for them to say those things out loud. But the lens gives them a safe place to explore, to declare, to reveal.
And as teaching artists, educators, and parents, our job isn’t to correct that gaze — it’s to honor it.
Why This Matters
In a world that increasingly pushes kids toward consumption, conformity, and distraction, giving them space to be curious observers of their own lives is more than an art lesson. It’s an act of resistance.
Photography can be a lifeline for students who struggle with traditional learning. It can be a breakthrough for those who’ve been told their voice doesn’t matter. And it can be a mirror — reflecting the depth, resilience, and vision that so many children carry quietly.
So when we talk about learning through a lens, we’re not just teaching kids to take better photos.
We’re learning to see the world again, through their eyes.