wrkxfmly
2025 Collection
Diego Romero, "A Day off Work," 2025. Work echoes through the head of a mother of two children. It's the only thing that she seems to be able to think of. Her work is what her family of three lives off of. Although she is tough, even she needs a break from the hardships that she endures. A day off work at the aquarium is a day to cherish with her family: a delightful break from work. Although her smile is not as big as her heart is content, the giggle from my sister relaxes her soul and lets her know that all the work is worth it.
Addison Galbreath, "'Video Games' By Tenacious D," 2025. "Video Games" is the best song to describe my dad. He always says he'll stop gaming or he doesn't play games, but that's all he does. My sister and girlfriend are in the kitchen? Gaming. On a work call? Gaming. I'm trying to get him to go somewhere? Guess what. Gaming. It's a monotonous cycle. I love my dad. He's great, and I get that it takes off the stresses of the day, but I would love to see him more often. I would love to be able to hang out with him or even play games with him.
Areyto Paredes-Akimoto, "Morning Ritual," 2025. My mom works long hours as the head of the DACA program at her office, and she usually doesn't get home until late. This time in the morning is the most time I get to spend with her throughout the day, and I cherish it.
Aridai Perez, "Early BD Gift," 2025. The day before my special day, my biological dad invited me to go out and eat—just the two of us. It was a special day being with him because we barely talk to each other and go our separate ways. We would usually do a birthday dinner or a special day with my brother and him, but my brother couldn't make it. He lives eight hours from here, but at least I got a message from him saying, "Happy birthday". My dad and I would go out sometimes, but it barely happens. So this day was a wonderful day, even though he tries to be in my life and help me, he works so hard and travels a lot.
George Kirkley, "Back to the Roots," 2025. It's a little hard to tell, but my dad is talking to my sister. My dad grew up in Texas and ended [up] in the square state of Wyoming. My sister is over in Texas and is teaching middle schoolers. What they're talking about in the photo is [how] her boyfriend (at the time) is having trouble deciding between a job away from her and just trying to find something in Texas. All families, including the boyfriend's family, say they should go to Texas. He is now engaged to my sister.
Isla Waldron, "Chocolate Strawberries," 2025. On Valentine's Day, we make chocolate-covered strawberries. Every year, for as long as I can remember, everyone gets home, [and] we cover the strawberries in melted chocolate and put them in the fridge to cool while we make heart-shaped pizzas. My parents always watch “Zombieland” on Valentine's Day. This year, they decided my sibling and I were old enough to participate in this part of our Valentine's Day tradition, so while we ate our strawberries, we watched the movie.
Harry Weinberger, "Late Night Edits," 2025. My mom, Kristin, is an editor, so she needs to work late nights very often in order to make a deadline for something to get published.
Tylee Scott, "Reflections," 2025. Sometimes my mom has to pick me up early for debate tournaments to drop me off, and this was one of those occasions. In this picture, she had gone to work at 2 am, and [then] picked me up at 5 am to get breakfast and drop me off. She couldn't switch off vehicles, so she picked me up in her city sanding machine, which was strangely warm inside. We had to wait an extra 20 minutes later for the bus to finally arrive. The plow was spacious but cramped with my luggage. I was nervous as I waited for the bus, but my mom was able to talk me through it. During the wait we talked about everything, filling the air with memories.
Milo Duhamel, "My Favorite Brother, My Only Brother," 2025. My twelve-year-old brother Wyatt is super energetic right before dinner. But dinner is especially hard to make if you don't have your sausages.
Theo Spanier, "Hugging the Sun," 2025. This was dad in the evening on a walk. I wanted to take a normal photo of him, but he decided to do a random pose.
Skyler Cion, "My Brothers," 2025. After work.
Addison Eck, "TEAM," 2025. My volleyball team and I always pray before our games. We want to keep each other safe and hope to do the best that we can. The prayer is not because everyone has the same religion or believes that is the reason we will do good, but it is our time to connect with each other. I spend two hours, five days a week with these 10 other girls, so they’ve become like family to me. We've eaten meals, gone on trips, shared laughs, and most importantly, worked so hard together. This was our final travel game when we realized it was the last time we would ever be able to play together.
Alexa Aguilar, "A View and a Story," 2025. Knowing that before my dad lived in this place and got to enjoy these views and climate every day brings awe to my heart. Knowing he had to leave all this behind with his family for a better opportunity brings sorrow to my heart. Everything he once knew was gone, and he had to start anew.
Avital Cuevas, "Home," 2025. Here my mom stands, on her phone texting my Ama that we are on our way home. She and I finished our evening at the Capitol, and are walking back to our car. Sometimes Capitol nights can go late, and my mom and I will end up picking up food on our way home, but today we are both able to make it home for our usual family night dinners. Most of the time, my mom’s and my works at the Capitol relate to something important in our lives. My family is a family of two moms and me, and the first time I remember lobbying in a capital was for my parents’ right to marry; family is something that is always close to us and our work. "I'm doing this for you, for us," my mom told me once.
Ben Beastrom, "Dust," 2025. I captured a photo of our tool shed, which we use for our agriculture class. The amount of tools and materials represents all of the students this year who have helped with the garden and the students who have helped make the garden in the past. This class allows us to be outside and connect while learning applicable life skills. Not only that, but we feed our school with our greenhouse and garden. We hold community breakfasts and lunches. The staff often cooks for the 39 students, and the students watch and learn how to make their own homestyle dishes.
Avry Guilbert, "Blooming into the Next Generation of Independent Women," 2025. A bouquet of flowers from my mom that she gave me after a ceremony where I had received an award for the work I have done at Framingham State. In the background is a photo of three generations worth of the strongest women I know: my great-grandmother, my grandmother, my mom, and my aunt. Now, I am blooming into my own individual, but not without their love and support.
Bailey Davis, "Passing Down the Passion," 2025. Riding dirt bikes is a big part of my family’s life — it’s something we’ve always done together. My dad has turned this shared passion into a meaningful way to connect with my siblings and me. It’s not just about the thrill of riding; it’s about spending time together, learning new things, and building relationships. Through dirt biking, my dad teaches us valuable life skills like patience, problem-solving, responsibility, and perseverance. In this photo, he’s helping my younger brother learn how to work on his bike — passing on both mechanical knowledge and life lessons that go far beyond the garage. Moments like these are a big part of what makes our family close
Carley Castro-Seiler, "Dancing with a Purpose," 2025. Baile folklórico is a Mexican cultural dance. Being Mexican myself, I've seen tons of beautiful women dancing and feeling proud of their culture. Being at McCallum, I get to experience that too by being in the baile folklórico group. We go to performances and host the Cinco De Mayo show at MAC. Being a part of the group made me more passionate about it and led me to do dance outside of school. It's been in my family for generations, and now I get to contribute to the long line of hardworking and proud women who have done it before me.
Carlos Mones, "Welcome Home," 2025. Every day when I get home from school, I open the front door to the greeting of my cat Oliver waking up from his nap. He spends his time alone, either sleeping or looking outside, because my family and I are at work or school. Because of this, he does not care much that I'm back, other than the fact that it's his time to eat again. Regardless, he is still very loved and brings the emotional support we need in my family.
Danelle A., "The Hands That Feed," 2025. My mom's days off from working at the restaurant are Mondays and Tuesdays. Every time I come home from school on those days, without fail, she is cooking. Sometimes she is cooking multiple meals at one time for the week, since she cannot cook on days she has work. When my sister and my mom are at work, it is often just my dad and me. My dad doesn't know how to cook much, and I don't know how to cook at all, so my mom is the main cook at our house. Today, I walked into my house and the smell of raw meat hit my nose, the light was shining perfectly, and I knew she was making burgers for our family dinner.
Dylan Trejo, "The Final Stretch," 2025. When it's the end of the day, which is usually around 5:00 p.m., she finally takes a break, only to be met with the daily problems of teenagers. So in the end, she never really gets a break; she goes on and on no matter what, just to support me and my siblings. It is shocking what a mother would do for her kids.
Genesis Sanchez, "Cheerleaders," 2025. Families cheering on their favorite player on the baseball team.
Hannah Kahn, "End of the Week," 2025. My family is Jewish, and every Friday we celebrate Shabbat. Shabbat is a day of rest after a week of work, and while my family does not follow this strictly, we always make the day special. There is a different air about Fridays at home. The morning starts with my mom kneading dough over the flour-coated, heavy, wooden cutting board, and by the end of the day, the house is clean and smells like warm challah. We put out the nice white tablecloth and use the matching cloth napkins at dinner. We stay at the table long after the last bites have been eaten, talking and laughing over so many topics you can't track them by the end, relaxed in our chairs, sometimes until 10:00 p.m. Then, we all help with the cleanup in the kitchen, forming conveyor belts of washing and drying the dishes. We go to bed with full stomachs and happy hearts, and dreams of challah French toast for the next morning.
Hannah Kahn, "Makeshift Moving Truck," 2025. When we get in the car and it smells like pumpkin bread, we know it’s been a day at Brentwood Social House. My mom owns a chair massage business and operates locations inside coffee shops in town. She started the business herself 25 years ago, is her own boss, and has a close-knit group of employees. I often tag along with her on errands to various locations to restock inventory or pick something up. She picks me up from school and we go to Brentwood Social House to close for the day, packing the setup into our car — our makeshift moving truck. The smell of the coffee shop lingers on the furniture, and we ride home together in a bath of coffee and pastries.
Juan Pablo Ordaz, "A Pause For Love And Loss," 2025. This photograph was captured during the funeral of a beloved member of my brother’s wife’s family. His passing was sudden and deeply heartbreaking. Someone who felt to us like one of our own family members in every way. The loss forced us to travel outside the country to accompany this moment. It was a difficult moment, but it also reminded us to remember the good memories he left by our side. This image also captures the respect and the love being shaped by family and friends around us.
Juan Pablo Ordaz, "Teardrops of Tiredness," 2025. It was a long day during a vacation. It was starting to get late, and Emma was exhausted from exploring around the hotel and swimming in the pools. She was tired and hungry, but she liked to drink yogurt as a replacement for milk. My family was on the hunt for a yogurt because she refused to eat something else in that moment; while I was there waiting as well, I shot this picture, thinking of how she would react when she sees this picture in the future.
Juan Pablo Ordaz, "The Last One And We're Leaving," 2025. One of my brother's wife’s family members recently passed away unexpectedly. The loss truly affected everybody in this image; this person was known for being very lively and being a good friend you could count on. The person pouring tequila was one of his beloved friends. He was letting all of his feelings out and giving his friend the last shot before he was buried.
Kar Huard, "Juliana's Room," 2025. Juliana is a close friend and a former student of my photography teacher years prior to me. Juliana's room is her sanctuary, her happy place. We've spent so many hours talking and laughing in this very room. She means a lot to me and is a huge part of my family.
Maria Vallin Santos, "El," 2025. The sequence of work is about my father's mechanic office. Usually, whenever I go to his office, I get nostalgic about the time my mom was hospitalized, while my dad would take care of us at his job.
Maria Vallin Santos, "Mano," 2025. My dad started working as a mechanic early in life, resulting in his hands being roughened up. I've always admired how proud he was about his hands demonstrating his trade, and how small details tell the biggest thing.
Kaylee Breecker, "Digital Sibling," 2025. For the past couple of weeks, my dad has been working on a project that prevents him from closing his computer. It’s always on. It rests to charge at night, the screen shining light in the kitchen, same as us. It occupies a seat in the car, same as us. My dad cautions us to be careful with it and not to bother it when working, same as us. I open the car door, preparing to sit, but the laptop is there. I am forced to move because of an inanimate object, my new digital sibling.
Maria Vallin Santos, "La Misa," 2025. Everyone in my family is raised as Catholic, and as soon as they grow up, they pass on the traditions to their children. As a member of the family, I'm expected to follow the religion. Although now, I view it as more of a chore rather than something I pleasantly enjoy, or how my beliefs don't match the teachings.
Lizbeth Montalvo Mariano, "Me Gozaré," 2025. Two months ago, my grandmother got a severe case of dengue. In her pueblo, it is known for sweeping away innocent lives. The constant calls between hermanos reached my mom, and she was devastated. I saw her weeping as she told my father that her mom was already saying her final goodbyes. Her family repeatedly told her that the "vieja" was going to die and "lo merecia." My mom would always stay up late rezando for her mother's well-being. She believed that God and the saints would cure my grandmother. On Sunday, we went to Misa, and my mother planned to pray on her knees enfrente del altar. Yet, my baby sister didn't care about that; she cried the whole Mass, and my mom had to leave the church to calm her down. At the end of the Mass, my dad kneeled and prayed for su suegra. My abuela right now is walking on both feet and piscando tomate. She's not dead. ¡Gracias a Dios!
Lesly Martinez, "Are we coming to Cruzie’s tomorrow?," 2025. My mom loves kids. She’s loved them since she was little, and she likes taking care of them. She started babysitting at my house a couple of years ago, and I can tell how much she loves those kids. This picture shows her saying goodbye to a girl she’s been watching since she was three months old. She and her family moved away recently. Saying goodbye was hard since my mom helped raise her in a way. The kids gave her the nickname Cruzie, and at the end of each day, the little girl would ask, “Are we coming to Cruzie’s tomorrow?” After saying goodbye, she asked one last time, and her response was “No, not anymore.” It was a sad goodbye, and one of the hardest things is knowing my mom will remember her forever, while the little girl will grow up and have a faint memory of us.
Nathaniel Weiss, "Gone For The Week," 2025. My father has gone to Grand Junction in order to check in on my grandparents. My grandma has dementia, and my grandpa is not doing too well himself. I had subconsciously gone downstairs to say hello to him. This showcases the feeling of emptiness that had enveloped my home during the time he was gone.
Markus Branton-Housley, "S4Ep.6 - Sanctuary," 2025. After a long day, I come home to watch "X-Men: The Animated Series" with my friend Kitty. He is staying with me for the week as his parents are out of town for work, a common occurrence. This is my room where we always watch things. My house is often very busy, and the living room is already occupied. We have always bonded over TV shows, and as an aspiring comic illustrator, I was thrilled to share this with him. The title is a reference to "X-Men: The Animated Series," where Magneto creates a sanctuary from the outside world for mutants to escape the chaos and hate of the world, finding peace, not unlike the sanctuary we have created together.
Owen Parker, "Home Away From Home," 2025. This photo shows my father working on his laptop while receiving a call from the "Dad" side of him. As the breadwinner of the family, he is always busy, whether working an hour away or from another state. Although he enjoys his job, he values being a father even more. The photo captures this balance by illustrating him at work while being called to fulfill his fatherly duties.
Paisley Hall, "The Book of Birds and Bonds," 2025. Every Sunday, our whole family gathers to slow down and just be together. Grandpa is the heart of it all; his bond with each of us is something special. When he was younger, he worked long hours and missed moments he now holds sacred. So these days, he shows up with his whole heart, sharing stories, laughter, and love he’s carried for a lifetime. What he missed then, he’s making up for now.
Markus Branton-Housley, "Afternoon View," 2025. This is the view of my college campus 30 minutes before my class starts at 3:40 p.m. I am pursuing a career in graphic design at my local community college. Through the district, my tuition is free, but transportation is not. As a sophomore and a 15-year-old, I am unable to drive myself to class, and my dad, who takes time away from work, drives me across town. Due to this, though, I often arrive early. This is the common afternoon view before everyone gets out of class, and a moment of calm for me before the storm.
Tegan Hahn, "Full Bellies, Empty Hearts," 2025. My stepbrother Theo and brother Ollie sit across from me and my dad at Chick-fil-A. It's been a while since we've gone out to get food together, and our go-to spot is usually here, because it has a playscape for Theo. My dad and Alissa, my stepmom, are very busy people. From going to the gym in the morning, to working all day, and going out with friends at night, sometimes I'll spend an entire week at their house exchanging only a few words. On a rare occasion, though, my dad will pick me and my brothers up and take us out to have our guilty pleasure of fast food. These moments are fun, but it makes me sad that I don't get to see this part of my family more often.
Symphony Rumrill, "Burnt Chicken," 2025. My dad cooks dinner for us almost every night after he comes home from work. My friend and I decided that we would do it for him to make his day somewhat easier. We tried to make fried chicken. We burnt it.
Symphony Rumrill, "blondie," 2025. This is my best friend. She is the hardest worker I have ever met. She takes all honors classes, has a 4.67 GPA, and plays two sports, while being a prolific human being.
Reilly Smith, "Every Quiet Moment," 2025. Even in the middle of work, my dad always has our family in mind. He doesn't always want to go to work, but he does it for us. Some days, the work piles up and the hours feel longer, and it’s the quiet moments between tasks when the missing hits hardest. Family isn't just who you go home to; they’re who you carry with you through it all. Even when apart, I know he's just waiting for when he can come home.
Valeria Perez, "New Home," 2025. My aunt and uncle chose to live in a trailer because it not only felt more like home but, due to high housing prices, it felt right. After they had a baby girl, they decided to upgrade the trailer for more space. My grandpa is on his tractor to move their home to its place.
Valeria Perez, "Tire Changing," 2025. My father has worked on cars as a hobby for years. Now, as I come of age to drive, he has started working on a car for me, changing tires to ensure my safety.
Trent Purvis, "Coming Home," 2025. I'm always the last to arrive home at the end of the day; track and field keep me at school late. So when I drag myself through the doors of my house, feeling tired and hungry, I love being welcomed by the smell of whatever my parents are cooking and by my family's warm welcome.
Tyson Hart, "The Word and the Work," 2025. Each night, our family aims to read the scriptures together, but sometimes the work in the shop takes precedence. The book and wrench serve as reminders of these two important aspects of our lives. Even our work is a family affair. This page showcases a quote that holds special meaning for our family.
Wren Vanderford, "Out of Place," 2025. When I was little, still sleeping in a crib with the high walls that felt like prison gates, my father would often sleep on the floor alongside me — just in case. A strong character on these nights became a small puppet, the King of the Room. My dad would play little games with him to keep me from crying, and it worked every time. Now, the King of the Room lives alongside every other worn-down pen from years of writing and homework, spending his days watching my mom make dinner, and as our lives continue to grow, he's always in the background watching. #wrkxfmlyStudentGallery #StudentPhoto
Zanna Allen, "Hard Work's Harvest," 2025. My dad has been teaching my younger sister how to garden. They bought matching sun hats and have been working in our backyard for months, growing cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, and more. Here, my dad shows my sister the first cucumber of the season. After all the hot afternoons and long hours weeding they put into the garden, that cucumber tasted like the best thing on earth.
Trent Purvis, "$2 a pop," 2025. When I discovered my passion, baking, I also discovered how much others enjoyed what I baked. One day, I baked a small batch of four cake pops, one for each member of my family. They enjoyed them so much that they insisted I try to sell them. And so I did, I began selling cake pops at school, two dollars each or three for five dollars. I now bring a box of cake pops to school each week, which I prepare with the help of my mom, dad, and brother.