The Terrible Twos...and Elevens...and Twelves… and Thirteens...and Fourteens…

The Terrible Twos...and Elevens...and Twelves…

and Thirteens...and Fourteens…

By Janie Wallace Slavens

Picture this: ripped paper all over the floor, a group of barefoot children jumping, screaming and laughing while they throw it in the air, chipper music blasting over the stereo while two start pushing each other and need teacher redirection to play safely again. You would not be surprised if I told you I am the mom of a toddler and this was a scene from our community playgroup. But in fact, this describes my most recent 8th grade dance class. 

Toddlers and middle school students have a lot in common. Hear me out: rapid developmental changes, new bodies with new abilities and limited physical control, boundary pushing and challenging authority, mysterious smells, unpredictable volume, extreme mood swings, post-lunch exhaustion to the point of tears, a love of bland and familiar foods, and bad taste in music. I spend my work hours these days with 6th, 7th and 8th grade students right in the throes of adolescence and my off-time with a not-very-terrible two-year-old. The parallels are shocking and often overwhelming, but I’m lucky to be learning things from one group I can take to the other.

The human brain grows at an incredible rate during the first 3-5 years of life. It transforms children from infants, also known as 24-hour poop-milk-sleep-cry machines who can’t do anything for themselves, into functional little people who can run, jump and climb and are full of language, opinions, and emotions. Our brains are literally built during this time. In adolescence, the brain has another amazing growth period forging neural pathways and connecting dots. The size doesn’t change, but the abilities and control begin to take shape in new ways. Sweet little grade-schoolers become hormone-fueled gangly, emotional, sweaty creatures just starting on the long road to adulthood. Turns out, transformation is usually messy.

Both of these periods in the life of a child change the entire reality of the world around them and how they function within it. They test their newly formed abilities and strange new bodies. Their opinion of authority changes and they push on the boundaries to see how far the rules will bend. They have trouble regulating their emotions and may experience wild mood swings. As a parent and a teacher, children in both of these phases may love me one minute and loathe me the next. It all comes with the territory of rapid growth and change. 

Due to all this newness, both toddlers and middle schoolers require extreme patience and self-regulation from the adult in the room. When I’m with my daughter, I understand it would be absurd to take her emotional outbursts about the wrong fruit in her yogurt personally. When my moody 6th grade student says something rude to me in the midst of a warm-up game, I remind myself of this lesson, take a deep breath, and respond with patience and an eye on the student’s growth. My middle school students are often able to verbalize why a certain day feels overwhelming and they need some downtime instead of doing something really active. I try to remember this when my toddler crawls up on my lap for some silent mommy-cuddles the moment I get home from work. I delay our impending grocery store run to give her that recharge time and ask her questions about her emotions to help give them names. I know that both my daughter and my students are constantly watching me and others their own age to learn how to behave and what is acceptable, so I try to model kindness. I acknowledge my own emotions to help model that it’s okay to fee

big feelings. I also look for the silly wherever I can.

As a performing arts teacher, I am most struck by the need for play in both populations. Toddlers will turn anything into a game. Middle schoolers do this too if you’re really paying attention. The rules are more complex and the reactions to winning and losing may be a bit hidden, but they still love to play. When I can get my classes to put down their social obsessions and fears of judgement to embrace silliness and exploration, I see tremendous growth in them. I get home from a long day of creative play with my students and am greeted with a little girl holding a glitter purse and a face covered in stickers asking me to help her put her toy trucks “night-night.” I remind myself what I saw my students learn through some vigorous play during the day and I dig up the energy to help my daughter explore big ideas through quality silly time. 

In each of my worlds, I am often thinking about the other. I don’t see that as a bad thing. I recognize this season of my life, teaching middle school kids with a toddler at home, is just that: a season. I ask myself what my life is conspiring to teach me with these two tricky populations at once. The answer that comes ringing back every time I ask is simple: patience and play. I navigate my day at a slower pace, relishing my time in this messy world of changing kids. I thank my toddler and my students silently for the lessons while I take another sip of my 3rd coffee of the day and get back to the important work of playing to learn.

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Sharing the Truth of Your Personal History and Understanding Your Why

Jacqueline Raymond Wegman

I am inherently privileged. I am white. I have blonde hair and seemingly endless amounts of bouncy energy. I don’t deny the advantage of these factors. However,  I fear my inherent privilege disconnects me from some of the communities I work in; leaving some students to wonder how I can possibly understand their lives. Why am I there? Why am I doing teaching artistry in a community I don’t live in and am not from? How can I relate? These are real questions and they should be asked. What is your why? 

Your history is your truth.

I grew up in the late 80’s-early 90’s in an apartment in Troy, NY. Back in the late 80’s Troy, NY more economically depressed than it is still today. My mom was a single parent working two jobs and raising my sister and I on her own. When my dad stole our car, we took the bus; to the grocery store, to Public School #18, and to my grandmother’s house. After that time (around age 3) I never saw or heard from my father again. 

 My mother was also raised by women. She had two sisters and her mother; a single mom with three mouths to feed. My mother and grandma, as well as her mother before her had to work to make money to survive, to pay the rent, to take care of their children. Getting a college education was not the norm. In fact, no relative of mine on either side of my family had ever gone to college until 2002. My sister was the first to go to a 4 year university, graduate 1 year early with honors and then start her graduate program the next day. No really. The NEXT day. She’s an inspiration for sure. 

Power of connecting through theatre 

Unlike my self motivated, academia driven sister, I found my way to college through theatre. I started singing and acting at 5. It was all I had. It was the thing “I was good at” and how I felt seen in a turbulent household. For me, theatre was a safe haven,  I found a community and a purpose there. And also a way “out.” 

The arts change lives and introduce possibility. They did for me. I do not desire for my students to become mini actors (unless they want to!), I want them to speak up for themselves, know what it’s like to walk in someone else's shoes, and to become leaders in their own lives and in their community.  Theatre education encompasses all of these objectives. 

I want my students to overcome any circumstance they may have been born into.  I want them to know how powerful they are and encourage them to critically think. For female identifying students and students of color I want them to examine where information is coming from. Before doubting themselves ask: Who created this language? What’s the historical context? Who says I can’t do this thing? 

If I could use my art, my background, and pathway to serve as a guide for one student, I would feel that I've successfully contributed to this field, and perhaps, to the world as a whole.  True empowerment can only come from within an individual. No one gave me my power, I had a series of mentors and guides in the forms of teachers who helped light my path, who validated my voice, who saw me. It took me years to empower myself. As an arts educator I hope I can help a young person get there quicker than I did. I wonder, if by sharing our stories, we connect with students and encourage to persevere through situations to see the vast possibilities on the horizon.

Take Control of the “INGS”

Take Control of the “INGS”    

Justine Evyn Saliski

This was one of those weeks where even if there were 48 hours in a day, there wouldn’t be enough time to get everything done that I need to get done. I have events taking place every weekend for the next few weeks, I’m directing Shakespeare in the round with my middle schoolers, while one of the coolest things I have ever done, it is daunting, and camp starts in less than 13 weeks. Planning, hiring, training, executing, facilitating-all of the “ings” that have me panicking. It was getting better, until I screwed something up and found myself in a tizzy on Wednesday morning. 

I’ve spent the last 5 to 6 weeks actively trying to disconnect from work when I get home, and allowing for myself to have some me time. It’s hard. Like super hard. For the first couple of days when I would not immediately answer an email, even if it was 11pm or 5am, a pang of fear would start to radiate through my body like something terrible was happening. More often than not, I end a phone call at work with “I am frequently in and out of the office teaching, but I am always accessible by email.” If I tell someone I am always accessible by email, not answering in lying. But where do we draw the line?

My accessibility started to become something that was eating me alive. Slowly, I began to limit myself from my constant state of connectivity. As a young professional rising in the field, wrapping my head around the idea that “there is never going to be a near death arts education emergency” was something I really took to heart, because what if there was? What if there was something that happened to one of my kids, or their parents, or my program, and I wasn’t there to fix it? Would I lose my credibility in the field? Would I lose my relationship with my kids and their parents that I have been working to build for months and months?

The answer, is no. 

On Wednesday morning, that feeling of something terrible crept over me at 7:12 am when I received an email that shot me out of bed. I forgot to put something in the calendar. I don’t have the staff to work. I can’t be in two places at once. I’m screwed. I got up, ran to my computer, sent some emails and a few texts, and waited for responses. In the midst of that waiting, I had a complete breakdown on the couch. I tore myself to pieces because if I had just been more accessible, if I had just been more proactive about making sure I was following back up on my emails, this wouldn’t have happened. It was my fault for “actively trying to disconnect”. My partner looked at me on the couch mid panic, and said “You are doing too much. Something like this is bound to happen a time or two, we’re all human. It’s okay.”   

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               In the moment did it help? Sure didn’t! But is retrospect, she is right. A lot of the time, I am doing too much. And even more of the time, I am not allowing myself to recharge mentally, physically and emotionally in order heal from the stressors of a work week. We are constantly checking in with our kids, but who is checking in on us? 

Every time you go to check your email and it has already been an 11-hour day, check in with yourself too. If it is one of the 1 in 1,000,000 arts in education emergencies, please, reply. But, if it is a parent or student who is asking if they are called for rehearsal on Sunday, they have the call sheet. They can figure it out if it cannot wait until the morning.

Putting down your phone does not mean that we care less. Ultimately, it means that we care more. We spend day in and day our championing for our kids and carrying them on our backs. If we don’t take care of ourselves, how are we going to be the best support we can be for them?

As arts educators and advocate for our kids, we all know the radical healing powers that the arts can have. Go see the play you’ve been wanting to see. Explore the new exhibit at the museum. Read a libretto outside sitting on the grass with the sun beating down on you. Take a mental health day. You’re kicking ass. 

Check in with yourself. You deserve it.

What Does it Mean to Teach in 2019?

 What does it mean to teach in 2019?

nicholas james

This school year I really have had to step back and assess what the heck it means to be a teacher.

What used to contain chairs - neatly tucked in, desks - aligned in well organized rows, a chalkboard with a few dust filled erasers, and an apple atop the teachers desk now contains tables or desks in various arrangements around the room, chairs scattered aimlessly, a SMARTboard or screen on the wall.

And that’s just the beginning. The ever changing world that we live in today makes it difficult to keep up. With the rapid advancement of technology, the growing number of standards to teach, and the endless todo list it makes it hard to determine where exactly to start.  

How do we do this you ask? Well, we are all trying to figure that out.

Technology

It is undeniable that technology is everywhere. We want to be fully integrated, streamlined. We are constantly trying to answering the question, how can technology make our lives more simple.

Our students are no exception. They are so used to being stimulated by technology outside of the classroom that when they get in the classroom they are expecting the same thing. If the lesson is not immediately stimulating or is presented in a way that they consider ‘boring’ they check right out for the day.

I often feel that I work as a salesperson, not a teacher. As I plan my year, my units, my lessons, and my day I am constantly wondering, ‘Am I presenting the material in such a way that will engage all of the students?’

This year, my buy in to integrating technology into my teaching practice took the form of a classroom instagram account and a website. Both of which students have access to. More to come on those later!!

Standards

In addition to the integration of technology in and out of the classroom, the growing number of standards teachers are expected to cover in a single school year also seems to be an impossible task. And, more often than not, teachers are also spending countless hours reviewing past standards that should have been covered in previous years, but were lost on the students. Whether this is the students doing or their previous teacher is anyone’s guess.

We are constantly expecting our students to produce more and more, but not giving them more time in which to do it.

Questions

How can we create rigorous tasks for our students? How can I ensure every student passess their regents exam with a college ready score? How can we ensure all students are exposed to various AP courses? How can we get students to take college courses in high school?

But also...

How am I going to get every student to even pass? How do I make up for years of knowledge gap? How do I get students to understand the big ideas and the procedural skills? How do integrate tech into my class?

Thoughts

Now, that being said, I love what I do. I am truly passionate about teaching. If I wasn’t, I don’t think I would be able to find the strength to get up and go to work in the morning.

There is so much work left to be done. We are currently in a time of innovation in the field of education. How exciting!! We are exploring new terrain, pushing boundaries, and developing what education can and should look like for future generations. Man, we are truly doing it all.

Changing Careers Mid-Life: From Actor to Accountant to Teaching Artist

Changing Careers Mid-Life: From Actor to Accountant to Teaching Artist

Steven Gillenwater

     move away

Theatre has always been an intrinsic part of my life.  It began with high school drama which led to      undergraduate and graduate degrees in theatre before culminating in ten years working in New York as an actor and theatre director.  Then, over the course of three years, my artistic life waned as another life took its place.  In 2011 my husband was accepted into a philosophy program at the University of Oxford, providing us the opportunity to move to England.  In the three years we spent there I grew, I explored, and I worked with amazing people after securing a job with a research study at the University.  I will always be grateful for those years and what they did for me.  But in those years a strange thing happened I didn’t anticipate – the theatre went away. 

Not literally. There was plenty of theatre happening around me.  I was in the land of Shakespeare after all.  I just stopped pursuing it as a career.  At the time I blamed this on many things – lack of access, culture shock, other personal and familial priorities.  I had many places to assign blame.  The blame made me feel more secure in myself.  I still felt like I was an artist.  I told myself, if I am no longer pursuing artistic goals, there really isn’t a problem if it can be blamed on other factors.  

  

When we moved back to New York in 2014 I assumed all would be as it was, and the theatre would again be my life.

Oh, how I was wrong.

Collaborators had moved on to other careers, the landscape was new, the city felt different, I felt different.  Most importantly, I had nothing to blame it on now.  New York City still had art, plenty of theatre to explore, but my drive to be out there on the audition trail, or searching out directing opportunities, just wasn’t there anymore.

A new career

I took a job - an office job, an accounting job.  I always liked numbers and, more importantly, I needed something to do. It was ‘something to do’ for two more years.  Soon, with no regular artistic outlet in my life, I began to feel like I was drifting. Was this it? Was I going to be an accountant for the rest of my life?  The thought filled me with a balance sheet full of dread.

I sat myself down. What do I really want to be doing with my life?  Where am I now?  What does my artistry look like now?  Am I still an artist?  Aren’t I too young for a mid-life crisis?  

I thought about my life. I thought about the work I used to do.  I thought about the work I did in Oxford.  I thought about education.  

I remembered sitting on the porch of my college house dreaming of my life 20 years in the future, teaching theatre.

I remembered the rewarding experiences I had while teaching when I was a graduate student.

I remembered the joy I had in Oxford, working with researchers dedicated to youth advocacy.

And so, I began reassessing my self-perceptions.  My husband had just received his own degree in Philosophy.  I thought it only appropriate for me to start examining my own philosophy, to attempt to answer all these questions I now had.  I spoke with friends and colleagues. I consulted all the various smart people I knew.  I did research that would make my old co-workers in Oxford proud.  I was going to make a change in my life.  The previous joy I had felt when I would be online looking for auditions was back.  Then I found what I was looking for.  Educational Theatre.  Graduate school.  City College of New York.

Bingo.

I never crafted an application with more care.  All elements of the application process filled me with joy.  I was even giddy studying for the math GRE (though maybe that was just my inner accountant coming out).  This wasn’t about a single program.  I wanted to get in, no doubt.  But if I didn’t, I knew I would be fine.  I had found what I was going to be doing with my professional life going forwa

A new philosophy

I applied.  I got an interview.  Two weeks after that I was notified that I was accepted to the program.  I was going back to school, 17 years after my last stint as a student, with a renewed energy and focus I hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Beginning classes I immediately realized this was not going to be solely about learning how to write a lesson plan, or what the best drama exercise was for instilling empathy in students.  The most important thing I found myself doing was the formulation of a new philosophy. At first, I thought of this solely as a pedagogical philosophy – who am I as an educator?  That was important, but then it became about so much more. This was a process of reassessing who I am as an artist, of digging down inside myself and coming to terms with what theatre means to me now.  This was a process of looking into my own personal philosophies on life and happiness – of asking the question “What is really important here, in my life and in the world around me?”

A continuous path

I have another year of graduate school and certainly more to learn.  I am just starting out in this new world, a fledgling Teaching Artist learning his way. I am fortunate to be getting exciting opportunities where I can take my ever-evolving philosophies and put them into practice.

Taking a moment to reassess how I viewed the world and my place in it three years ago altered the course of my future, putting me on a path that feels more right professionally than anything I have felt since I was pounding the pavement as a professional actor ten years ago.  Now, with a rediscovered sense of self and newly explored personal philosophy, I can appreciate the journey I went on to get here.  Every step was a step that influenced the work I am doing now:

I honed my artistry during my career as an actor and director.

I explored the world of education and youth advocacy through my work in Oxford.

I have used my time as an accountant to broaden my knowledge of business and, most importantly, to finance my life while working on my graduate degree.

Every move along my path has been integral to who I am and what I am doing now.  I’ve come to realize that In this career change I’m not starting out on a new path.  It’s always the same path, a long winding path, and I can’t wait to see what I encounter on it next.