What Now?

Meghan Curr

With one semester left to go in the Educational Theatre Program at City College,

how can I help but think about the future and all that lies before me? In our recent

transition to remote learning, it sometimes feels impossible not to stress about the

unknowns of “life after quarantine”. With everything so up in the air and so many

questions looming over our heads, I take comfort in thinking about the things I can

control. Instead of focusing on the “what comes next?” I ask myself “what comes now?” 

In this strange transition to working and learning from home, it seems that social media has become a prime platform for expressing our thoughts and opinions. Now more than ever before folks are turning to technology to fill large gaps in their day. Classrooms, lectures, meetings, dance lessons, yoga classes, just about anything you can think of is being operated via Zoom. News reporters are giving updates from their living rooms, families and friends turn to facetime to see their loved ones...and where do people go to check up on the latest status updates of those in their inner circle? Facebook and Twitter. These platforms can be a great source to share photos and life updates...as well as a great source to possibly run into some opinions being shared that you maybe don’t agree with. And what do we do when we see said disagreeable opinions? Scroll past? Unfriend or Block? Call them out? All of these options come to mind at some point. However, in focusing on the “what comes now?” we need to call in. 

Calling in isn’t something I had heard of until taking Conflict Resolution class this Spring.
My Professor had explained to us that instead of calling someone out on behavior or
comments that could be deemed as problematic, she prefers to opt for an outside one on
one conversation to address the situation. In taking someone aside to have a discussion
instead of putting them on blast in front of a large group of their peers, you can have a
chance to openly discuss your differences and ideals in a lower pressure situation.
Calling in is a tool that can be extremely helpful when dealing with coworkers, friends,
family members, or even acquaintances on social media. Private messaging someone
about something hurtful or upsetting they may have posted instead of commenting publicly
could make a world of difference. When someone is called out, their immediate reaction
is usually to become defensive. This then can spiral into a huge argument with each side
never coming to a respectful agreement. The fact of the matter is, sometimes, if someone
makes a post that can seem disrespectful, it may just be completely out of ignorance or
a lack of knowledge on the topic at hand. We should educate instead of humiliate.
In calling out someone’s behavior or language, there can be sort of a power there or sense
of pride. Thinking to yourself “look, I stood up to that person” or “I shut them right down”
but what this could really be doing is shutting down the chance of opening a dialogue with
that other person and getting them to see a different side of things. When we publicly humiliate,
we are closing a space where we could have created openness; cutting off someone who
could have become a potential ally. 

The concept of calling in may not be one that exactly translates into a lesson for young children, however, as future educators, it is important that we take this lesson with us in dealing with our future students. I’m sure all of us can think of a moment where we felt embarrassed as a child because an adult scolded us about a behavior we didn’t even know was really wrong until we were being called out in front of the class. As educators and adults, taking the initiative to pull a student or peer aside to speak with them instead of putting them on display in front of others can make a huge difference in not only their lives, but the relationship you build moving forward. 

THEATRE MATTERS

THEATRE MATTERS

By Steven Gillenwater

In August 2017 I started a journey that would alter the path of my life by beginning the Educational Theatre Master’s Program at City College of New York.  I had drifted away from theatre in recent years and started thinking about my previous work as an educator.  I wanted to have more control over where my life was taking me, so I made a decision and ran with it.  I had no idea when I started at CCNY whether it was the correct decision.  In retrospect it has been one of the best decisions I have ever made.

I loved the program.  I loved being back in school.  I loved learning how to be a more confident educator.  I loved every moment.

Terrified, I look out across the auditorium.

Twoscore in number, they are coming towards us, towards me, quickly and with a rapacious energy I had not experienced for many a year.

High School Musical Jr. rehearsals had begun.

‘Don’t shy away’ I tell myself.

‘That’s right!  Hold your ground!’ Myself responds to I.

‘They can smell fear.’ I agreed.

“You are corre…wait.  What?  No.  You’re thinking of sharks.”

“Are these not sharks?  I feel fear.  I fear sharks, so logic dictates that these are sharks.”

“These aren’t sharks.  These are children, and you want to be a teacher.  Stop with the nonsense and get to work.”

“Fine.  I still think they’re sharks”

“Don’t pout.  When we’re done, we’ll get you some ice cream.” 

 Reminder to self:  Not a student

Okay.  Maybe not every moment was an instant classic.  But even the parts I didn’t love - the hard parts, the frustrating parts, the parts where I threw myself into the water only to realize I might not remember how to swim - I appreciate for the ways in which they prepared me for my new career.  I discovered through this program philosophies I could return to when in doubt.  What do I hope my students will learn?  How do I help them to learn it?  How do I know they have learned it?   The program showed me new ways I could lead with empathy, and that the process is as important as any product you might create.

Through it all, plans began to gestate - dreams of a teaching artist practice, getting my PhD, working in higher education.  The program was getting me ready for all of this.

Teaching CCNY theatre students

Now, as I approach graduation, I find myself struggling with how to feel.  I’m struggling with whether those plans now make sense during a pandemic, during a time when the world has so drastically changed, during a time of social distancing and ‘new normals’, ‘remote learning’ and ‘unprecedented events’.  I grapple with how one builds a career as a theatre educator in a world where people can’t come near each other. I feel fear and concern. I’m afraid for us as a society. I’m concerned for the health of my family and friends.  And perhaps selfishly,  I’m concerned for my future as a theatre educator.

‘Don’t be so dour.’ I tell myself.

Be the whale.  Remember to breathe.

Allowing fear, and concern to guide me is an old habit and one I am not eager to go back to.  So, I flip that script on myself.  How does theatre respond to this current normal?  How do I respond as an educator?

Me as a youngster, learning to be a storyteller

I could say the arts matter now more than ever.  I’m not sure though there is a ‘more than ever’ with the arts.    Theatre has been here as long as there have been people.  It is as intrinsic to the human experience as storytelling is, at the heart of us as humans.  Theatre has survived wars and plagues and crusades.  Theatre has always been there to respond to the now, to tell the stories of how we survive, to tell the stories of those we have lost, to tell our stories as human beings.

Educating others with theatre, in theatre, through theatre: that matters.  Not now more than ever.  It just matters.

And if we have to tell our stories through Zoom, or by phone, or via podcast, or in classes six feet apart from each, well, we’ll just go ahead and do that, won’t we?

Shakespeare wrote Venus and Adonis and King Lear under quarantine.  Tony Kushner wrote Angels in America in response to the AIDS epidemic.  Theatre will continue to tell stories and we as theatre educators will continue to teach our students to tell their own stories using whatever means are at our disposal.

A five, six, seven, eight…

If you’re coming into this program now, I can imagine there might be some uncertainty as to what your time might be like.  I don’t know what it will be like for you either!  As with all education, you are a unique wonderful student who has their own path to follow.

If I was to say one piece of advice though, it would be this:  Jump into the water and swim as best you can.   While at City College I was able to work with students from Pre-K, to 3^rd, 4^th 5^th grade, to middle school, to high school to undergraduates in college.  I was not required to do any of these things, and I certainly passed on some opportunities when time was precious, but by saying yes when I could I was able to understand better where I wanted to focus my practice and also acquired small bits of experience working with pretty much every age of student.

I’m looking forward to all the growth I still have to experience.  I’m looking forward to building my own practice, I’m looking forward to applying for PhD programs, working in Universities.  I’m looking forward towards a future that excites me, even if I don’t know what it might hold.

‘This is the same show where I had those sharks come at me!’  I say to myself

‘Talk about full circle’, myself says to me.  ‘This blog started with us talking about High School Musical Jr. and now here we are, three years later, having a conversation about High School Musical Senior!’

‘No, just High School Musical, with seniors. Like, an entire senior class.’

‘Ah, I see.  Same show, only longer.  Apparently, the world needed a more detailed account of a school musical’s casting process.’

‘Don’t forget that science decathlon.  A longer version will surely give us that scene where the science team wins their competition.’

‘It won’t!’

‘So let’s get to work.  Hold up a second.  Now there are 200 sharks!’

‘Yeah, I have nothing for you there.  Even by my sarcastic standards I can’t understand how this is going to work.  A cast of 200?’

‘Here they come!’

Reminder to self:  Not sharks

‘But wait a minute.  They don’t look like sharks anymore!  Why am I not afraid?’

‘Newly acquired experience?  Excellent training?  Plain, good old-fashioned fatigue?’

‘I am invincible!  Sharks no longer scare me!  I am the all-powerful tamer of sharks!’

‘Still not sharks.  Really.  You have to stop with that.’

I wonder…

By Charlotte Exton

There are many different lessons and strategies that I’ve learned during my two years in the Educational Theatre Program at City College. How to keep students engaged…how to integrate academics and theatre organically…I must advocate for myself…for students…for the arts. However, after thinking about it for some time, I’ve finally discovered one of the most important things that I’ve learned: when making a suggestion, vocalizing an idea, or giving out constructive criticism, the most valuable words to use are “I Wonder…”

I get it. You’re probably saying, “Really, Charlotte? That’s the best piece of advice you’ve been given?” and to that I say, “Yes…and!”

When offering the words “I wonder” to a conversation, there is no solid answer or even a right one – it creates a dialogue between you and the other person or people. It even suggests that your idea may not be the best one, and instead it fosters thoughts, creativity, and solidarity. When I first learned about this technique, I was in my first semester of graduate school in Sobha Kavanakudiyil’s Drama in Education class. A light bulb in my brain turned on. I thought “what a great way to get children to think creatively”. But I thought I would only use that word in a school setting and nothing more. Instead, without even thinking about it, I started using this technique in my everyday life. I use it in both my professional and personal lives. When using the words, “I think it should be this way,” or “But I want this to happen,” you tell the other person that their idea may not matter, when in fact, it absolutely does!

“I wonder” is a tool to bring people together – to collaborate! And that is exactly what the Educational Theatre program is all about. We work together, we celebrate together, we grieve together, because that’s what theatre is all about – feeling the emotions and coming together to process those emotions. 

Now, the world has changed. We are no longer experiencing art in the same room, our theatres look different, our classrooms look different. How will this change theatre in the future? Will we become even more isolated? Will we forget the importance of theatre in our schools? Or will the opposite happen? Will we begin to value the arts more than ever before? Will live theatre finally become more accessible to constantly ignored communities? More affordable? The opportunities are endless! 

It’s hard to stay optimistic in times of deep uncertainty and fear. But because of my colleagues, my cohort, and my peers I feel a kind of hope that I’ve never felt before. Creativity and imagination are flowing out of us and it’s a matter of time before we start to create change. The tunnel we’re in is dark and we may be tempted to turn back, but there is a bright light at the end. Some may see it now, some may not until later, but it exists. What’s at the end?

I wonder…

CCNY Prepares

by Lulu Fogarty / May 3, 2020

I’m one of those people. You know, THOSE, people -- always ready with advice for anyone who’ll take it. Keep your chin up! If I would have thought, six years ago, that I’d be where I am now! Trust your path!

I grew up in Greenwich Village in the 1980s and ‘90s, and am a NYC public school kid. I was fortunate to attend extremely diverse schools and community theatre programs where critical thinking was encouraged. My dedication to equity and justice was nurtured nearly everywhere I turned.

I joined Actors’ Equity Association straight out of college and realized that the roles that were right for me (read: too-smart-for-her-own-good-villain-with-a-young-face) didn’t exist. So I tried my hand at playwriting and acted in plays produced by friends and family for years. Then I followed my heart and moved to Taiwan. No, not for a romance, silly. To write another play! (Still writing it, seven years later.)

When I returned to NYC, it took months for me to gather enough odd-jobs to make ends meet. (I was pursuing a self-sustaining acting career. No 9 to 5 for me!) One of the first odd jobs I landed was a game-changer. I was asked to assistant direct a high school musical. In the room with the kids, I realized that I had a bag of tricks that worked with NYC youth. The following year the same gig turned into an acting teacher position, then more teaching artist gigs, then more independent contractor teaching, until it was decided: I would get certified to teach public school full time!

I was accepted to CCNY’s Educational Theatre Graduate Program’s Stream A, which meant that I would graduate with a Masters in Science of Education and certification to be a public school teacher in NYC! 

The program was awesome!! I was learning every day, I loved the ensemble, I loved the professors, the readings were life changing (truly), and all the projects were worthwhile. But something wasn’t right. I had insomnia for the first time in my life, and every day I asked myself, “Am I making a horrible choice?”

Then I took Sobha Kavanakudiyil’s “Conflict Resolution Through Drama” course. One night we did this activity:

1.     Draw a timeline of your life.

2.     Add in life-changing moments: events that made you feel like you couldn’t be the same person you were before.

3.     Circle three of those life changing moments.

4.     Choose one of those moments and write the story of the moment.

5.     Share your story in a small group.

6.     Choose one person’s story and make it into a short dramatic piece. The storyteller is the director.

My group chose my moment. It was the day that I convinced my mom to sign me out of middle school so that I could protest the acquittal of the NYPD officers that killed Amadou Diallo. 

I got an email from Sobha the next day asking me to come to her office. I wasn’t in trouble, she reassured me. She just wanted to talk to me about my activism.

What followed was a ninety minute conversation in which she advised: you’ll be able to remain engaged in the activism you care about if you make a career in arts administration.

Instant relief. 

I sheepishly told my friends and family that I would switch Streams. Instead of a Masters and certification, I’d just get the Masters. They were like, “THAT’S PERFECT!” And I made it official with CCNY a couple weeks later. 

I continued to take every opportunity to stay engaged in CCNY Ed Theatre events and projects. I participated in the Harlem Children’s Theatre Festival, became an Educational Theatre Club Officer, and volunteered at the AATE 2019 Conference in NYC. I found home in these communities of theatre education folks! And I adopted language to describe what links my own artistry, pedagogy and advocacy. My experience is varied, yet the outcome I seek is always the same: radically transformative spaces in which participants feel that they belong and are not merely “welcome.” 

Inspired by the same AATE Keynote Speech by Lizzy Cooper Davis noted above, I spearheaded an Equity, Diversity, Inclusion and Access Accountability Committee within CCNY’s Educational Theatre Graduate Program. And then, a couple months ago, it became clear that our lives would turn upside down.

As CCNY students, we live in the epicenter of the Covid-19 pandemic. Some students had other cities to return to, but most of us are here. We’re here. In the city we love and love to hate. Dealing with loss in the form of death, work, space, access, routine, mental stability, food security, housing security, the list goes on.

In January, I became Project Manager at Bridging Education & Art Together (BEAT Global), which uses Hip-Hop as an arts education tool with youth of all abilities. I’m grateful every day that I have a job that I can work at home. The field of arts education, and the arts in general, is being rocked. My husband, a jazz trumpet player, lost all his work in March and is still waiting to be approved for Unemployment. We find ourselves questioning, “What will happen to the arts? What will happen to artists?” 

Six years ago, I could never imagine our world today. It feels impossible to offer clichés when every other day I learn that another former student of mine lost a parent. My time at CCNY affirmed that I must continue to question the world around me and my artistry in it. Those who live through this must honor new voices at the table. We have the opportunity to rebuild the arts and arts education from a space of equity and community justice. CCNY prepares. Let’s make it happen.