Empowering the Bystander – A Workshop by Master
Teacher Jonothan Neelands
By Nathan Schwartz
Three months ago I had no idea who Jonothan
Neelands was. Nor had I heard of Heathcote, O’Neill, Bolton, or any of the
other practitioners who I have been introduced to in the Drama in Education
course. As a first semester student who came to our Educational Theatre program
without a teaching background, I was expecting to learn about practitioners and
theories that were completely new to me, but I hadn’t guessed that I would so
quickly be participating in a workshop lead by a master teacher who’s work I
have come to admire through his writings. The experience was invigorating,
illuminating, and so fun! It really solidified for me that I have made the
right decision by entering the program.
“Does drama have the power to transform a
bully?” was the first question asked of us in Jonothan Neelands workshop at
CCNY on October 19th. We positioned ourselves in a line across the NAC ballroom
— those who thought strongly “yes” or “no” were at opposite ends. It was
quickly apparent that there was a range of opinion, with the majority tending
towards the more optimistic “yes” side – understandable given that the room was
full of theatre educators. Neelands heard from a sampling of opinions, but it
was obvious that it wasn’t an easy question to answer. I didn’t suspect it at
that moment, but this question and the concept of “no easy answers,” were the
keystones to the entire workshop.
Neelands eased into a drama almost imperceptibly.
Out of the game “Grandmother’s Footsteps,” a story seemed to form itself:
Janet, a fourteen-year-old girl, steals money from her mother to make amends
with her friend Susan. Susan is blackmailing Janet because Janet’s mother was
forced to fire Susan’s mother for stealing from the factory where they both
work. By this point in the story the entire group is driving the narrative.
Neelands is a brilliant storyteller, with an
almost spooky ability to inhabit the characters he has created. But he’s also
empowering in his ability to give up control to the group, coaxing us with few
words. Almost as an afterthought he gave us a suggestion to make our scenes
more “complicated.” Complexity and contradictions, I later learned from his
notes, were central to many of the lesson’s guiding statements. But instead of
stating this aloud he let us experience it by enacting it. This tiny hint lead
the groups to create fascinating and entertaining scenes where layer upon layer
of conflict and tension were revealed. It primed us to really hear the statement
later in the workshop: “As artists our job is not to make the world simpler,
but to make it more complicated.” It resonated with me in a way I will never
forget. I hadn’t thought about art in that way consciously before, but I
recognized it as a very true statement. Making things more complicated is the
purpose of great art, and perhaps the goal of theatre in education.
In the later part of the workshop we explored
the difference between empathy and sympathy – another concept I had not
considered. In the context of education and bullying it seems vital. We lined
up behind one of the four characters (represented by fellow participants) based
on whom we felt the most sympathy for. I chose Janet — as did the majority. Each
group took turns sculpting the four bodies into a tableau that expressed their character’s
point of view.
We observed and reflected upon the four
tableaus and were asked if our sympathies had switched. I can’t explain what
kind of mystical properties were contained in the activity, but I suddenly felt
myself identifying with a Susan’s mother instead. I had empathy for her…
Somehow the feeling of her predicament was more familiar to me. The
activity was a testament to the power of acting and enacting over simply
thinking about a situation. It was a great example of how “meaning” in theatre
is created for “both spectator and participant” by the “fictional and symbolic
uses of human presence,” which Neelands and Goode write in Structuring Drama
Work. I hadn’t really understood that statement before, but now it was
clear. As Neelands said during the workshop, “art has the power to change
hearts and minds.”
But the question of whether drama can transform
the bully was still hanging in the air…. During the last exercise of the
workshop, we took on this question in full force. Neelands writes in his notes
that the next set of activities was titled: “Disarming the Bully.” We staged a
confrontation between Janet and Susan. A large group that backed up Susan formed
and was taunting Janet from across the street (formed by the rest of the group
sitting and watching). Neelands had the participants-in-role freeze at the apex
of their bullying and we all reflected on the image. We voiced the inner
thoughts of Janet, Susan, and the team of bullies. We were asked who had the
most power, and who had the least power.
At first, most of the comments focused
around Janet, Susan and the unnamed bullies that seemed the most threatening.
But one person in particular caught my eye; she was standing on the fringes of
the confrontation. Maybe I empathized with her, recognizing this position from
when I was a youth… As some participants brought attention to her we discussed
whether she could potentially have the most power, because she did not seem
fully invested in the group — she could easily walk away and find her identify
elsewhere. Or perhaps she could intervene without fearing retribution from the
group – people who didn’t seem to be her friends. She could also be the
weakest, perhaps frozen with indecision, without the surety of having a strong
opinion, or motivation. But whether she was the strongest or the weakest, once
the group found her, Jonothan Neelands pointed out that this person was the
bystander. And if drama cannot stop a bully, or save the victim, maybe drama
has the power to empower the bystander. It can transform the one on the edges,
the one who watches.
