I believe any leader new to an organization needs to

• spend more time listening than talking.
• explicitly let the professionals they supervise know, in words and body language, that they are valued.
• acknowledge and affirm when subordinates share concerns
• never make assumptions about the backgrounds, challenges, or motivations of the people you work with.

At this beautiful school, with its amazing children, we’ve been talking a lot as a staff about a belief system that holds that the adults in the building are responsible for the culture of the school. An educator there, whom I respect very much, once pointed out that we, the adults in that building, have to be more influential than the environment. Ever since he said it, it has stuck with me, because– wow, tall order. Whether or not you work in a school like this one, every school has students with lives that are at least temporarily unstable. Students whose families are going through a divorce. Students who have recently been put into foster care. Students who struggle after a move. For young children especially, small upheavals are still upheavals, and I imagine when you don’t always know if you’re going to sleep in the same bed one night after another, when you don’t know if you’re going to go home to adults fighting, or when you don’t know if you’ll have a meal this Saturday– these things make tolerance for other kinds of changes that much less. Teachers are not social workers, but they know child development and they know something of the challenges the students in front of them face. I think it is an ethical responsibility of teachers and administrators who are aware of significant instability in the lives of the students in their building, to proactively consider every change in routine, every shift of a student into a new classroom, every change that might be very insignificant in the eyes of an emotionally healthy adult but could, somehow, be significant and sometimes re-traumatizing to  a child in crisis. We, as educators, cannot “fix” everything in the lives of our students, but we can be sensitive to their needs and minimize the amount of changes and “surprises” that we throw at them.

I know, first hand, that the arts are an unbelievable tool in mourning, and it occurs to me that the constant unsteadiness in some children’s lives results in a near constant state of mourning for some of them.  I’m wondering how the arts could be better utilized in classrooms with children who face this kind of instability.Given that the arts are notoriously the “first cut” from the curriculum in this age of high-stakes testing, I would guess that many of the schools with children with the most needs are the most arts starved. But arts experiences, too, can be surprising and potentially uncomfortable. Paintings don’t turn out the way you thought, you have to wait your turn while someone else reads their lines, and sometimes music dredges up feelings for which there are no words. So, I think there are landmines in this work too. This is just the beginning of a line of thought– maybe I will think on this more and add another post on the subject later. But I’m interested in hearing what you think.

Question for the World: What have your experiences with children with instable lives been? How can the adults in your building make a better impact on their academic and social-emotional futures? Can, and should, the arts play a role in such endeavors? 

I have to say that I’ve been disappointed overall in the discourse on this subject in the field. Too often I find the tone of discussions about technology’s role in the classroom and the theatre becomes paranoid and negative. I truly appreciated panelists in both the above-listed sessions for choosing to explore, in a practical way, how social media’s emerging presence in our lives could positively influence theatre and theatre education. In too many cases at these types of events, the mention of technology dissolves into a series of rants by professors complaining about their experiences with students texting in class. Yes, I can see how that could annoy someone. If it bothers you, state your expectations regarding technology at the beginning of the semester and enforce them. Or get over it and ignore it.

Could there be ways social media could be legitimately welcomed into the classroom, facilitating and deepening learning and artistic exploration as opposed to simply distracting from it? What if students were to tweet their “muddiest points” from a lecture to a class Twitter handle, allowing quick assessment and an easily accessible record of student understanding throughout the course? What if students were encouraged to text each other their thoughts following a performance viewing? What if conversations about communication in the theatre went further to explore the unique challenges of communicating via text, email, and social media platforms, something virtually all theatre professionals today are encountering to an increasing degree? What if theatre students were expected to make podcasts — living journals– of their rehearsal process? Could video footage kept in an e-portfolio enhance the traditional post-mortem discussion of a student production, or perhaps aid in encouraging a student to self-evaluate with greater objectivity? Which is more valuable to the Intro to Theatre student– an article about theatrical conventions in Kabuki or a Youtube clip showing those conventions in action? Access is an important aspect of the conversation for me as an educator. I use an outstanding textbook in my Introduction to Theatre course each semester that unfortunately many of my students honestly cannot afford. But all of my students have free access to Youtube clips at their public library. Could social media platforms offer possibilities for more equitable scaffolds for learning than more traditional resources?

These are the kinds of questions about technology that interest me as a teacher, and I suspect they would be of interest to others if the discourse could be framed and facilitated positively. Instead, I felt that too much of the dialogue many of my colleagues engage in seems almost fear-laden. There were comments about whether even the idea of bringing Youtube into a theatre classroom was self-defeating to the field. Is there a real concern that increase access to online video content will ultimately kill theatre? Well, I would respond, is there any evidence that increased access to recorded music via platforms like iTunes decreased live concert attendance? I would certainly be surprised if it were the case and would venture that most would still feel that the live communal event retains its place as a special experience in spite of such opportunities.

Yes, technology has its limits and problems. Professors need to be responsible in considering/controlling how openly student work should be shared, for instance. But exploring social media and strategizing around its potential challenges will yield more benefit for the future of the field than simply resisting it. Finally, as technology’s role in the workplace changes, given that theatres are workplaces, shouldn’t our students be encouraged to master those platforms that will like figure into their professional lives?

Question for the World: What role does social media play in your classroom or theatre? What role would you like to see it play in the future?

It’s hard to explain to those who’ve never heard of Susan Zeder or this trilogy why this warms me so. I’ve been thinking about the why of it a lot lately. Just recently I’ve become friends with some diehard Harry Potter fans, who have shared with me their Leaky Con antics and written in their blogs and chat windows– in loving, heartfelt detail– their experiences this month attending the final Harry Potter movie. It’s been interesting, getting a glimpse into a fandom that I really didn’t know a lot about and getting to know these incredible, quality people at just this moment when something they love so much has come to a head such a powerful way. I bring this up because I’ve been thinking this week that this trilogy is my Harry Potter. Girl was a huge role to play at an age when I was flirting between childhood and adolescence– and honestly holding on to the childhood as hard as I could. It was a time when so much of who I was to become was coming in snapshots, in and out of focus, every day. I had just re-discovered a little bit of comfort in my own skin after a traumatic move from my beloved Ohio and a difficult sixth grade year. This was the production that ultimately led me to Wethersfield Teen Theater Company, to what was then called the Greater Hartford Academy of Performing Arts, to my first paying job (as a performer for  Looking In Theater), and to so many people that became such an important part of my growing up, many of whom are just as dear to me today.

Mother Hicks was the event in my life that, ultimately, put me on a path of hopeless devotion to theatre for young audiences, and I am so especially thrilled to know I will be seeing it with my colleagues and partners in crime at AATE. I’ve always said that my favorite thing about AATE conferences is just hanging out with amazing people who all know who’ve heard of  Nellie McCaslin (and completely understand when I share that I burst into tears when I met her). It is there, and at least until recently, only there, really– that I’ve felt like a fangirl in the best sense of the word. I’m such a fan of the work of the amazing members of AATE, who advocate for theatre and education all year long and have invited me along to play.

Question for the World: What’s the production that changed your life?

The social networking age has added a major wrinkle for all of us trying to make good choices with regards to a lot of the challenges highlighted in the article hyperlinked above. So many of us communicate, professionally and personally, on multiple social networking platforms and blogs on a regular basis. Every post, status update, and tweet is a press release of sorts, upon which all sorts of judgements can be made about who you are and what your values are.

Question for the World: Have you struggled with any of the issues mentioned in the article? Do ethical questions come up often in your work?

Now for the promised rant: I have to say, I really despise vague and bizarrely titled sessions. I will refrain from mentioning examples in case one of the presenters is one day in the position to offer me a job, but those of you who are regulars in the conference circuit should be able to recall many such confusing titles in your conference books of yore. Yes, once I attend a conference I am given access to lengthy descriptions of whatever it is the session/workshop/panel is supposed to be about– but I really don’t have a lot of time to waste looking further into sessions whose title give me no earthly idea what it is their supposed to be about. Expound in your session description. Get metaphorically interesting in the panel discussion. I promise you, if people are able to surmise your session topic from the title, they are a whole lot more likely to actually attend.

Question for the World: Planning to attend any conferences this year? Which ones are you looking forward to? Any sessions catching your eye– in a good way?

That statement has stuck with me for a long time and I’ve applied the notion of getting a second meeting in a lot of the work I do. When I direct a play, I want to get the actors clear on what the schedule is, get a taste of the culture of this process we are embarking on, and get the juices of ensemble flowing. Ultimately all the planning I do for the first rehearsal revolves around the question of how to get these actors ready for the second rehearsal. I don’t really have a set icebreaker I always use or an immovable rule that every rehearsal requires that staging begin or even a read-through necessarily. Each production is different and this makes each first day different– but the plan always revolves around the question of what are my performers and production team going to need immediately next. Does everyone know where the bathrooms are? Is there an activity that will most develop a collegiality among (often) relative strangers who’ve come together for this particular production? Is there an image or idea I can share that will help those in the room see what most touches me about this particular piece, and can I present that in a way that will plant a seed of deepening interest in the project?

I have a similar approach in teaching. With my college students I spend a huge portion of time going over the syllabus on the first day, and in the past I found myself frustrated that that would take away time from activities I had in mind to “get started.” But just as elementary school teachers know that investing extra time on establishing rules and classroom management that first month of school makes all the difference in the students’ behavior the rest of the year, adult students, too, need their hands held a bit before getting their feet wet in a new course. Its an investment in the rest of the course, but particularly for the tone that second class will have.

Question for the World: What do you like to do on “first days” or rehearsal, school, or work? What approaches to the getting-ready-to-go phase of collaborative activity  have you found effective, and what approaches did not?

I think about that gratifying sensation– I’m a part of something important!– a lot these days. Today I spend my mornings tutoring second graders in reading in the North End of Hartford. “North End” has a special meaning in Hartford–the way “Harlem” means something special in New York. When I tell people I work there, the first question I get is usually how I make sure my car doesn’t get broken into. The school I work in doesn’t bother with special cafeteria tickets for free and reduced price lunches– they ALL qualify for free lunch. When I first met with my students, I asked them to draw pictures of people who were important to them. One boy drew Superman– which was sort of adorable, and sort of sad, because he honestly couldn’t think of anyone else in his life that was important. As they drew, their stories came out– I learned which students have multiple family members in jail, which ones are in foster care, and which ones, at 7 years old, are aunts and uncles to the children of their very young teenage siblings. Words that would make a sailor blush come out of the mouths of more than a few of these little children on a regular basis and the custodial staff is in a seeming unending battle to cover up those words as they are written across the walls of hallways and bathrooms throughout the school. And every half hour I take three or four of these kids and try to help them make sense of the English language. I’m on the front lines of a battle, the only battle that has a CHANCE of saving these kids lives. Sometimes I honestly doubt that my little time with them, struggling through the difference between “these” and “those,” trying to get a kid who reads on a kindergarten level to at least get up to a first grade level, will change the course of their future. But one or two kids’ lives will be a little different, and third grade will be a hair easier for most of them than it would have been without that one-on-one time spent working on reading. The after school program they go to will keep them safe while the single parent in their life is at work, and the soup kitchen at the church down the street will ensure that the free lunches at school aren’t the only meals they get this week. Mentors, athletic coaches, and tutoring programs will see some of them through high school, and the community college I work at will reach out to some of them many years from now, providing stepping stones to 4-year colleges and careers their parents were not able to pursue. How many of them? I don’t know. All I know is that the more time I spend with them the more invested I become in their futures. Too many of them have been dealt a bad hand, and do not even realize it yet. It would be criminal to stand by and do nothing. I can’t do everything, but I’m going to use this little time I have to help them break the code of the letters on paper. The opportunity to be a part of their young lives is nothing short of an honor.

In some ways it’s not as simple to be of service to these kids as it was when I was handing out financial aid like some kind of theatre education Santa Claus. Sometimes change is visible, but often it’s unclear if the work is helping, and even if it is, it’s hard to really categorize a move from “substantially deficient” to “deficient” as a success. So I find it important to remind myself that I’m not the only soldier here. These kids do have some special people in their lives that are rooting for them, every day. Even if Superman is the only one they can think of.