Drama Tuesday - Stepping into Process Drama
/December 2020 Presentation by Robin Pascoe for
The convenors of this conference also shared syllabus documents prepared for Romanian teachers.
The convenors of this conference also shared syllabus documents prepared for Romanian teachers.
Back in February I attended a Perth fringe show featuring an opera singing friend and his soprano performance partner. While waiting in line to go in, our friends chatted about how lucky we were to live in such a remote capital city as Perth, where our annual fringe festival went ahead as usual. We laughed that the aspect of Perth that has always been perceived as its greatest disadvantage; namely its distance from other cities (it’s about as far as you can get from New York, for example), was in these strange new times, flipped to be perceived now as an advantage.
During the show, the soprano, who had migrated to Australia 20 years ago, commented that she would never have dreamed at the time she left a career in London, that 20 years later there would be more work for a singer in Perth, Western Australia, than in the UK or USA.
And this week, a player in WASO (Western Australian Symphony Orchestra) – not a large outfit by world standards – reported that, based on the statistics for the past 12 months, WASO was the busiest orchestra in the world.
Strange times indeed.
I know of a music theatre performer, last engaged in a Broadway show which shut down at the start of the pandemic in 2020, who has retrained as a visual artist.
And only yesterday, at an ANATS (Australian National Association of Teachers of Singing) meeting, a colleague spoke of her friend and colleague in Scotland, a school music teacher, who has not been permitted to sing with her students, nor allow them to sing in class, for a year.
As the world now moves into the vaccination phase of the pandemic, and people become safer to start resuming a new normal, how will that look and sound for you?
For me, I have become much more tech-savvy over the past year – definitely through necessity rather than natural inclination. I think I have also learnt gratitude.
As I so often write on this blog, we are beyond lucky in Australia. Our total number of lives (sadly) lost has been 900 rather than millions and our lockdowns (even taking into account the 100-day lockdown in Melbourne) have been minimal by world standards. I think we have all learned to be a bit more grateful.
Right now, Perth is in a week of additional restrictions. (We had 3 cases last weekend.) Until 8th May we have to wear a mask outside our home. Because we have been so spoilt, it feels uncomfortable and annoying. At the start of a singing lesson on Friday I asked a student how she was feeling about her mask. She said, “Every time I put it on, I think that it is a reminder to be grateful.” Wise words.
There is no doubt that the music industry across the world, and even in Australia, has been hit hard by Covid. Where sporting events with thousands of spectators have often been allowed to go ahead, music venues have always been shut down. It was encouraging that our state government made a snap decision to close a football game to spectators yesterday (45,000 had been estimated to attend). If the risk is one of aerosol transmission, then 45,000 cheering supporters must be more risk than hundreds of seated patrons listening to music?
How do you see your world of music in the months and years ahead?
One other observation from all this sifting through the embers of a teaching career is to think deeply about what we need in order to be ready to teach drama. One of the necessary conditions is to have a swag bag of resources – a repertoire of practice to draw from.
Resources for teaching drama is one key.
Now, I have too many books. I know. A lifetime of collecting and learning and teaching. And it is a pain at this point in my life trying to wrangle them into some sort of order.
I will have to discard some of them. I am reminded about the old Jewish invocation against burning books. I also feel bad about consigning them to landfill and dust. But there is something to value in this collection.
There’s a Peter, Paul and Mary song from my adolescence:
Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time passing.
I am thinking about this as I write after spending a morning going through files that I have brought home from my office when I retired at Murdoch. I want to sing:
where have all the resources gone?
One of the unspoken pleasures of an inquisitive mind, is to stand at a bookshelf in a library or in a book store, and to just scan the titles available, looking for something new. It’s reassuring to reaffirm what you know is available, but also to discover new titles and writers. There is a physical pleasure of handling books.
Maybe it tells something about me and my ways of engaging with knowledge. Knowing is a part of being (my epistemology is my ontology)
As I scanned former students’ annotated bibliographies I was reminded about how rich a vein of gold can be found in what has been written and published about teaching drama. Apart from dusty shelves like mine, where are they all now? And how much impact have they had?
Part of me asks about all that history of drama teaching publishing: why isn’t there more evidence of impact in everyday schools? Part of me simply celebrates that there is knowledge shared.
Anyone want to come and look at my bookshelves and share the knowledge there?
On the eve of the Anzac Day long weekend last Friday, Perth, and one regional area, Peel, in Western Australia, were plunged into a snap lockdown for the weekend, after a case of community transfer of the more contagious Covid variant. It came as complete surprise to us all, as we have been covid-free for months now.
As many music teaching friends went about cancelling their bands’ and choirs’ attendance at Anzac Day ceremonies on Sunday (all public events were cancelled) I couldn’t help but reflect on my post from last Anzac Day. As the rest of Australia held ‘normal’ Anzac ceremonies on Sunday many Perth households revisited the tradition started in 2020.
Here’s the post from last year – I refrained from calling it the Last Post!
Anzac Day 2020 was like no other before it in the many years since 1915.
In Australia, with gatherings banned due to covid-19, the usual services and parades were cancelled - except for one at the Australian War Memorial in Canberra attended by only the few dignitaries who conducted it, telecast to the nation..
Instead, at the tops of suburban driveways across the country, Australians gathered just before dawn, holding lighted candles, and sometimes waving to acknowledge their neighbours without approaching or speaking to them.
In quiet reflection Australians remembered their Anzacs - and all who have suffered and perished in war – and as the skies softly lightened with the dawn, the morning chorus of magpies and crows was augmented by players of music – student brass players, music teachers, amateur and professional musicians and singers – each contributing to an extraordinarily moving tribute.
On my own driveway I could hear from the next street the hesitant sounds of a student trumpeter playing “Lest We Forget”. Further away there was the faint sound of the Last Post with its tricky high notes for beginner players.
In the couple of days since Saturday the papers have carried letters from Australians suggesting that the dawn driveway tradition be kept and commenting on how moving it was to have their own silent contemplation accompanied by the sound of live music. My music teacher friends as well as non-muso neighbours have all said much the same.
Music is SO important in our many life rituals. When we work on the tedium of music theory, or teaching the singing and playing of scales, it is worth remembering how important our job is. We are contributing in our way to the rich tapestry of our country’s unique culture.
TEACHING DRAMA
Why teach theatre? How can we afford not to teach theatre? Dramatic arts are among the most effective tools we have to teach our children to live, love and behave like decent human beings .. . We have an incredible opportunity to un-teach the numbing and de-humanizing lessons of popular culture.
(D. Berkson, fall 2001, Teaching Theatre, vol. 13, number 1)
Do I need to say more? These few words could be my plea in favour of teaching art, any art, in schools, community centres, refuges, mental institutions, nursing homes, jails, etc. Art has no borders, no age or social status. Art learning-teaching is multidimensional: physical, sensorial, social, cognitive, moral, emotional, creative and aesthetic. Some forms are more individual-focused than others; visual art can be a more solitary practice than theatre (in general). Bμt all, at some point in time, deal with an audience. Therefore, art touches people at two levels: 'making art' and 'sharing art'. Again, I am digressing from drama to art in general; it always will be, because art is a way of life. It is a 'discipline', more than a subject. Once it is inscribed in the cells of your body, your being and your expression are artistic. Naturally, you might have a gift or a talent in one particular area; but it is the way you look at the world and deal with it that is different: humane, respectful and visionary.
First question: why teach drama? In my eyes, dramatic art is the closest to daily life. At first sight, it is an art form that does not require too many skills (at least, it appears like this). A musician, or a dancer, needs a regular and long training; actors always seem more 'dilettante'. It is a medium close to our mundane reality; it uses 'natural' body moves and gestures, words, emotions and situations, one performs every day or nearly. It does not frighten people, as dance could. As drama uses spoken words, people find in their memories and life an endless source of inspiration, which they can communicate easily. Once the first step towards theatre is made, it does not take long to realise that there is more to it than merely copying reality. Taught at its best, participants understand that through the magnifier of theatre, they create a 'new' reality, powerful, magic and empowering. Some incredulous pessimists would argue the ethics and the worth of theatre; but no one can deny the healing aspect of theatre, since the beginnings of time. In fact, it was the very function of theatre, because it is the expression of the deepest aspirations of humankind. And even in the most tortured or dark plays, somewhere it addresses the sublime side of humanity. It is a reverse illustration of the paradox: '1he brighter the light, the darker the shadow''.
Therefore, in the light of all what was said before, teaching drama is taking people on a journey of discovery about themselves and about others; or rather, revealing the others dwelling in oneself. It is accessing a world of meanings, symbols and beauty. Beyond the context (the content of the play), teaching drama is exposing the students to new situations, new lives. It is opening the doors of a deeper and more meaningful reality. Teaching drama is constructing and deconstructing many different worlds, to educate, heal and empower its participants, actors and spectators. Theatre is a powerful medium, which brings change in oneself and a community, by widening one's worldviews. It is a social and political tool. Teaching drama can be a revolutionary act. One day, I scribbled on a piece of paper, a quote read somewhere: The Art of a period is the revolution of the collective soul of its time; when in fact, it should have read: The Art of a period is the revelation of the collective soul of its time. Certainly, the last quote makes more sense; but I did like the first one! For all these reasons, I agree with David Berkson, we cannot afford not to teach ,theatre.
Second question: what kind of teacher do I want to be? Out of my heart, my answer is: inspirational. You need to take students, participants and audiences, willingly, on a journey, the best drive is admiration. We all have our 'star', our role model, for some it is Gandhi, for some it is Adolf Hitler. The choice relies on life experiences, meeting with charismatic people and 'what is inscribed on your slate' at birth. The journey of life is about ·'change'; hopefully towards 'light' and not 'darkness'. It is the role of the artist and the teacher to inspire and educate. Both come from a different angle, essentially, the artist delivers art, and the teacher delivers education. It sounds obvious, but sometimes you wonder if art teachers realise there are two words in their title: 'art' and 'teacher'. More than once, in my life, I left a class or a workshop, crying for Art. An 'inspirational' art teacher is one who practices and reflects about art; and is really good at it. Easy to write, it takes a lifetime to realise it. In that sense, teachers are forever learners.
My next point is trust. As a teacher, you need to create a space where the students feel comfortable to explore and express any subjects and situations. I find that the strategy of teacher-in-role is a good one, as you are not putting yourself as an outsider, watching; but sharing the experience with the students. You have to engage and take risk, like them. Sometimes ago, Jenny de Reuck gave her students an article: Drama in Education and TIE: a comparison, written by Gavin Bolton. He mentioned that at a workshop lead by a theatre company, about a sensitive subject (AIDS), the students asked the drama teachers to leave. I can understand fully the position of the students: but, on the other hand, it was a bit sad that they felt limited in the presence of the drama teacher.
Finally, I should like to be a creative teacher, one who shares experiences and takes risks with the students; and with whom it is fun to work. Also, I would provide many opportunities for the students to perform in front of an audience, or share with others, Besides the normal avenues of school's production, there are so many ways to interact with audience: festivals, specific events, national days, etc.
'Education is about power'. Coscientization: awareness and commitment which gives people grounds for ACTION. (Paulo Freire)
I am currently doing vocal coaching on a high school production of “Mary Poppins”. The cast are specialist music theatre students in a college of the arts and the orchestra are specialist music students at the same school. It is my first time working on this show and from the outset I was surprised at how difficult and complex the musical score is. The Sherman brothers have written many moments in the vocal ensemble in up to 6 -part harmony. Dissonance is used as an effect. There are sudden vocal modulations - with no helpful modulating chords from the orchestra. The score is musically dense – both vocally and orchestrally. Much of our preparation time has been spent working out which notes in a chord we could leave out without losing the harmonic effect and intention at that moment.
It is proving to be a challenging gig for all involved, so I was mildly frustrated recently when, after a particularly long session in the rehearsal room, a friend remarked, “Mary Poppins? That’s not difficult music!”
That casual remark set me thinking. Of course, we all know the tunes from the show – think “Feed The Birds”, “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious”, “Chim Chim Cheree”, “Go Fly A Kite”. Those are all catchy tunes and we can hum them easily. In this case, it is the arrangements which make the music difficult.
Many years ago, I attended the state finals of the ABC’s Concerto and Vocal competition, held in the Basil Kirke Studio in the long defunct ABC studios on Adelaide Terrace in Perth. David Helfgott (of movie “Shine” fame) was one of the piano finalists. At that time, he was going through mental health challenges, but was nonetheless a virtuosic player, in a class all his own. He played Rachmaninoff’s “Rhapsody On A Theme Of Paganini” with such power and speed that I wondered if he would cause the Steinway grand to move across the floor, such was his passion. Yet, when he reached the 18th variation (the famous, legato, melancholic one) his playing and interpretation was curiously detached. This variation is the easiest, technically, to play, but it demands that the pianist make the piano really sing. On that day it was just too difficult for him and his headspace. A different kind of musical difficulty.
And, by way of another example, in the world of singing, especially as it applies to young singers, some technically easy songs can have texts which are too sophisticated, or which deal with themes beyond the singer’s life experience and maturity. And then some other songs, with appropriate themes, can be annoyingly hard in terms of range or vocal intensity required.
There are many definitions of musical difficulty.
Getting back to Mary Poppins. The show is fun and appropriate for young singer actors, provided that they commit to many, many hours of intense dance and vocal calls. But easy? Definitely not!
I am prompted to ask this question following a conversation with a very experienced English teacher friend about the recently published novel Honeybee, by Craig Silvey. We agreed that this was another thought-provoking narrative that is well-written and engaging. But, he went on to add: of course, I couldn’t use this in my school.
Of course, there are questions I want to ask him about Honeybee. Why?
But it is important to look beyond this specific novel and to think about the broader narrowing of curriculum choice and the mood of self-censorship in our schools.
As a refugee from the “hippie 70’s” when there was a more revolutionary spirit shaking up schools and curriculum, I am more attuned to a more liberal and open-ended approach. So much of becoming a teacher in that period was about breaking free of the shackles of a limited vision for education. Curriculum opened up. Teaching practice changed to be more inclusive and more focused on dialogue and giving voice and agency to students. The world of education became more liberal and free flowing. But I recognise how the times have changed. As recent international events in the USA have shown, words like liberal are terms of abuse and contempt.
There has been a long term campaign of inculcating fear amongst teachers.
The tabloid media rant about corrupting young minds urged on by the rising tide of religious extremism. The swings and roundabouts of time set off cycles of action and reaction (and as drama educators, we should know about action and reaction!). But, what are the forces that give hegemony to particular views at any moment?
It goes without saying that I am more likely to think more openly about the content of the plays and novels that we use in schools. Or perhaps, I am less likely to nervously twitch about content. What we can see and hear on television and film is now so much more liberated from other times. In case teachers have not noticed - what our children watch and see and hear on Netflix and in rap songs and online, is no longer as safe and as sanitised as some like to believe.
But I do wonder about the accepted curriculum itself. Look closely at the given cannon of texts. (For an interesting historical perspective on the curriculum cannon in english teaching see, Yiannakis, 2014).
Think about some of the topics of the accepted cannon.
Romeo and Juliet is about illicit infatuation and coupling in a climate of inter-family warring that results in teen suicide.
Othello involves extremes of jealousy and interpersonal rivalry and inter-racial marriage resulting in death and despair.
Equus by Peter Schaefer focuses on the disfigurement of horses by a psychotic ally disturbed adolescent.
Lord of the Flies – I have always been amused that Lord of the Flies is a much used school text (maybe less so now) that has not a single swear word but look at the undertow of its themes: the descent into savagery, the undercurrent of sexuality, the violence. Not forgetting the biblical references to the Beast and the pig.
And I could go on listing texts on required or recommended reading lists that handle difficult and challenging subjects. It seems that we teach some texts without batting a proverbial eyelid, but balk at others.
Drama – and literature – spring from human experience.
Therefore, we should expect that a broad range of experiences are included – and that we can imaginatively and emotionally enter into these worlds through vicarious experiences. I do not have to be a serial killer to play the role of one in the safety of the fiction we create in drama (not that I’m advocating that we make all drama lessons about becoming serial killers).
The role of drama and literature is to transport us into worlds that we might not know and through the imaginative experience to better understand and come to know the wider world.
What is going on at this moment in time? Are the uncertainties of the Pandemic situation surfacing? Is there a sense of fear and a desperate need for reassuringly safe teaching?
What do you think?
What particular topics and subjects triggers the curriculum twitchers?
Is it sex and sexuality?
Is it language? (That horse has long bolted!)
Is it themes such as witchcraft? Satanism? Or similar taboos?
Or is it the undermining of status quo stereotypes or apple pie and wholesomeness?
Is any topic suitable for teaching?
There is a misplaced nostalgia (if that is the right word for it) for a world that is safe, unthreatening, not complex and frightening. But not all school literature can be a sanitised and hygienic safety net.
Is this a time for bravery? A time for finding our risk taking mojo?
It will take courage.
Yiannakis, J. (2014). A possible literary canon in upper school English literature in various Australian states, 1945-2005. Issues in Educational Research, 24(1), 98.
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