Awe-full Teaching
How might we reframe assignments as opportunities to restore meaning and well being in students' lives?
First, a disclosure. I have the characteristics of the kind of person that researchers refer to as an HSP — a highly sensitive person. I crave and thrive when given intrinsically driven tasks; I am highly empathetic to an extent that it regularly overwhelms me; I notice things that others miss; I relish my solitude; and I sob during sad commercials or songs — and have, consequently, learned to avoid any movie with a dog in it.
Understanding how to navigate increasingly polarized environments and a world of catastrophes with these characteristics feels overwhelming most days. Yet, as AI continues to wrap its tentacles around the lives of more and more people and is now becoming what young people consider “a companion”, I am learning to recognize these characteristics as super powers.
Frequently, I notice tiny things that stop me in my tracks, stir my emotions, and stick with me for days or even weeks. It could be a quote in the window of a corner coffee shop, watching an elderly couple tenderly help each other cross a street, or seeing a stream of light transform into a rainbow on my desktop. I remember rushing to get into my car one day after a rain storm and being stopped by the sight of the vivid blue feathers of a dead bird lying in the mud nearby. It deeply upset me, yes, but it did more. The vivid contrast between the colors and the reminder of life’s fragility made me feel transported and turned inside out. These whispers of wonder sneak into my days, bring tears to my eyes, and make me think, “There’s so much around us every single day that most people don’t even see, yet alone appreciate.”
When I was an undergraduate pursuing a degree in photography, one of my professors, Ben Helprin, gave us an assignment that changed my life. I was in a studio photography class, using large format 4x5 cameras to capture portraits and stills of products in a controlled space. That meant me, the photographer, was in control of creating the lighting conditions for each shot. Photography has been described as “painting with light,” which helps to convey the importance of comprehending how to work with the quality and color of light to communicate your message. To support students’ understanding of this concept, Ben (which is what he asked his students to call him) assigned us the task to get up before the sunrise, go outside, and keep our eyes moving as we scan our environment. I remember focusing on the horizon as it changed, but soon realized that the assignment had more to do with looking at the ways the emerging, warm glow of the sunrise was quickly transforming the appearance of the dark surroundings and objects set within it. I wrote up my reflections about that experience and turned it in. That was thirty years ago. I still think about that experience and regularly point out the magical effects of a cloud to whoever I am with as it covers the sun and the contrasty shadows around us transform into a subtle modeling of dark to light.
About 25 years ago, I began teaching art appreciation, which includes recognizing how artists apply the qualities of light in their representations of the world on canvas, and I chose to adopt this assignment. One semester I had a student in my online class reflect at the end of the term that she thought I was crazy to ask students, most of whom worked and cared for families, to get up before the crack of dawn to observe the effects of the sunrise. In that same reflection, she thanked me for drawing her attention to the poetry that happens every day that she had never considered before.
Dacher Keltner, faculty director of the Greater Good Science Center, professor of psychology at Berkeley, and host of the popular Science of Happiness podcast defines awe as “the feeling of being in the presence of something vast that transcends your current understanding of the world.” Keltner’s book, Awe, is landing on me like that sunset from three decades ago. The author lays out the ways simple everyday experiences can make us less anxious, more connected, and even happier. Keltner’s research identifies eight wonders of everyday life that commonly surface awe in people: moral beauty, collective effervescence (having an experience simultaneously with a large group of people), nature, music, visual design, spirituality and religion, life/death, and epiphany (in which I place my experience with the dead bird).
Regularly experiencing awe has the potential to restore meaning in one’s life. Many of my colleagues (who are college instructors) have shared concern with me about the apathy of their students. I have another concern — a growing fatigue and apathy among college instructors, as a result of the pressures and stress of needing to continue to change how they approach their teaching. And grieve the departure of traditions that have guided their life’s work.
If you are a college instructor who can relate to feeling less inspired and more overwhelmed by work that once kindled your passion, this is for you. I hope you can find the space to think about this — and maybe try it or talk to a peer about the idea. Reimagine just one of the assessments you give as an opportunity to inspire awe in students. Perhaps begin with a discussion about awe, prompting students to share moments from their lives that inspired awe in them. Research has found that awe can be tied to what most deem positive experiences (holding a new born baby, singing the lyrics of a song in unison with tens of thousands of other people, looking up at night while camping and seeing the milky way) and difficult experiences (watching a loved one take their final breath or seeing a photograph depicting an unimaginable tragedy).
Encourage students to go about their daily experiences in search of awe. Create a space where students can anonymously contribute their daily experiences of awe — maybe using a tool like Padlet or even a simple editable Google Doc — and categorize them into the eight wonders of daily life. Have students reflect on how these experiences make them feel. And how their experiences differ from each other too. Do they agree or disagree with the research that shows awe calms us down and can promote creativity and critical thinking?
How might these awe-ful experiences serve as catalysts for writing, reflecting, and applying concepts from your curriculum? What if we begin to reimagine assignments as opportunities to restore meaning in our lives through awe and human connection? What would that look like? And how might it contribute to your own well being and happiness, as well? How might it facilitate an awareness of the intrinsically human emotions that each of us need to feel fulfilled and that machines can never (and should not attempt to) generate?