Buttons & Knobs: My First Step Into Photography

July 15, 2024 — Fort Worth Camera School of Photography

I remember clutching my Canon EOS 60D that morning like it was something fragile — as if pressing the wrong button might break it. It was my very first time walking into a photography class, and I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.

The event was called “Buttons & Knobs: Digital Camera Fundamentals.” It sounded harmless enough — buttons, knobs — how complicated could that be? But as soon as I walked through the doors of the Fort Worth Camera School of Photography, surrounded by people casually adjusting lenses and talking about “aperture values” and “RAW files,” I realized I was in a completely new world.

I felt nervous. Actually — scared. Lost, but also curious. Everyone seemed to have this quiet confidence, like they knew exactly what their cameras could do. I, on the other hand, barely knew how to turn mine on. I kept thinking, What if I’m the only one who doesn’t belong here?

The Room, the Vibe, and That First Rush of Curiosity

The classroom itself felt warm and buzzing — rows of people with cameras of all kinds: Nikon, Sony, Canon, Fuji. The instructors, calm and friendly, introduced themselves and told us to relax. “We’re all here to learn,” one of them said. That simple line actually helped.

Before the lesson started, we went around the room sharing why we were there. Some people talked about wanting to get better at wildlife photography, others were preparing for travel or weddings. One woman mentioned she wanted to shoot her kids’ sports games; another guy said he was starting a YouTube channel.

When it got to me, I hesitated — what did I want to do? I said, “I’ve never taken photos on a camera before, but I want to learn how to take portraits and pictures of objects.” It came out nervous, but saying it out loud felt real. I remember sitting there afterward, thinking about all the possibilities — how many directions photography could take you. Portraits, landscapes, products, stories… It was like this quiet woah moment. There were so many paths I’d never considered.

Buttons, Knobs, and a Whole Lot of “Wait—What?”

We started simple — learning what all those little symbols meant. Shutter speed, aperture, ISO. The “exposure triangle,” they called it. At first, it felt like trying to learn math in another language. I stared at my screen, turning dials and seeing the numbers change, but not really understanding what any of it meant.

Then, slowly, things started to connect. The instructor explained how shutter speed controls motion — how a fast shutter freezes movement, and a slow one makes motion blur. Suddenly, I thought of how you could capture water dripping or cars streaking through light.

Aperture was next — how that tiny opening in the lens controls depth of field. I learned that if you want those soft, blurry backgrounds in portraits, you use a wide aperture. If you want everything sharp, like a landscape, you use a narrow one.

And ISO — that sneaky one — it’s what makes your camera more or less sensitive to light. High ISO helps in dark settings, but can make your photo look grainy.

The instructor called these three “the language of light.” And for the first time, I started to feel like maybe I could learn this language, too.

The “Click” Moment

Halfway through the class, we started experimenting. The instructor asked us to switch our cameras to manual mode — terrifying. I twisted the dial, heart pounding. Manual meant no safety net. Every choice was mine.

We pointed our cameras at a simple setup — a few objects placed on a table under different lighting. The task was to balance the exposure ourselves. My first shots were awful: too dark, then too bright, then blurry. I remember laughing at one that looked completely blown out — just a white blur.

But then, after a few tries, I adjusted the shutter speed and aperture, focusing carefully on a small metal mug. The light hit it in just the right way, and the background softened slightly. I took the photo — click — and checked the screen.

It wasn’t perfect, but it looked… right. Like an actual photo, not just a random shot. That was the first time I felt it — that small spark of oh, I get it now.

White Balance and Seeing Light Differently

The last part of the session was about white balance. Before that day, I had never noticed how lighting could make photos look too yellow or too blue. The instructor showed us how to fix that manually instead of relying on the camera’s automatic guess. We played with different light settings — tungsten, daylight, shade — and suddenly, I could see the difference in warmth and tone.

It sounds small, but that part changed how I looked at everything after. I started noticing light everywhere — in the corners of my room, in reflections, on people’s faces. It’s like photography started teaching me how to see.

The End of Class — and the Beginning of Something Else

By the end of the two hours, my brain was full but buzzing. I no longer felt out of place — still new, still clumsy, but not scared anymore. The instructor wrapped up by saying something that stuck with me:

“Photography is about paying attention. The more you learn to see, the better you’ll get.”

I walked out of that classroom holding my camera a little differently — not as something intimidating, but as something with potential. I kept thinking about the people I’d met, all the things they wanted to do with photography, and how I was just at the starting line of my own path.

That night, I went home and practiced. My photos were still inconsistent — half of them underexposed or weirdly colored — but now, I understood why. That made all the difference.

Looking Back

When I think back on that first class now, it feels like a quiet turning point. Everything was new — the terminology, the settings, the community — but it was also exciting. It reminded me that every expert once started exactly where I was: confused, nervous, fumbling with buttons and knobs.

That’s why I wanted to write about this class — not just as a recap, but as a record of where it all began. Because this was more than a photography class. It was the start of learning to look at the world differently — through focus, light, and patience.

And to think, it all started with one Canon EOS 60D, a room full of strangers, and two hours of feeling lost — before everything started to make sense.