"Pedagogy of the Now"

(Re)Turn to Storytelling

Alex Ates

The COVID-19 shutdowns, the violent political conditions in the United States, the corporate manipulation of social media, and the rapid rise of AI necessitate a return to the basics of theatre pedagogy: storytelling.

In 2022, I introduced a new course, Storytelling and Performance, at Westtown School, where I was the director of the arts. It was an introductory course to the grades 9–12 theatre program, designed to intrigue and attract students who might not typically foresee themselves taking an introductory theatre course. It worked. Sixty percent of the students who enrolled in the course had never taken a theatre course or participated in a production.

Storytelling and Performance focused on the simple, innate human need and ability to share compelling stories that impact life experiences despite the “slings and arrows” of dehumanizing modernity.

The course’s pedagogy was influenced by The Moth, the prolific national producer of “story slams.” I attended their teacher institute and learned to incorporate their methods into the classroom.

In class, students, across identities, crafted one-person performances of true stories using The Moth’s storytelling structure, outlined in the instructional book How to Tell a Story (2022):

1. The World as It Was.

2. Then One Day.

3. Raising the Stakes.

4. The Moment of Change.

5. The World as It Is Now.

Prompts were provided from The Moth’s card game, A Game of Storytelling (2022). The students received notes from peers and the instructor. Concurrently, they read Anna Deavere Smith’s Letters to a Young Artist (2006) to encourage their creative identity alongside their storytelling.

After a series of intimate, in-class “slams” (performances) of their stories, students compellingly performed themed stories for the enraptured school body. Performances were audio-recorded and evolved into an intentionally produced podcast, à la The Moth Radio Hour. The podcast component deepened the experience and expanded audience accessibility.

Amid modern chaos, low-budget storytelling is the most urgent, evergreen, immediate, and inviting performance pedagogy to reassert theatre’s societal role and validate student expression. 

Be the Toothbrush! How an Object Teaches Us to Be Human

Julia Devine

Acting for Everyone is an introductory acting course for majors and non-majors alike that I’ve taught since 2013. Many of the students are first-years—and for some, it’s their first acting class. I usually spend the first half of the semester focused on improvisation, imagination, and character creation exercises before approaching scripted work. What was once an OK class exercise has become—post-pandemic—a fan favorite for these acting newbies. I call it “Object Presentation.” Students choose an object, any object (like a toothbrush or a coffee maker), study the object, and act out the object and its processes using their whole body, voice, and the space around them. It’s a one-minute presentation. What’s the object like at rest? What happens when it’s turned on or manipulated? Does it make any sounds? They must, in other words, “Be the toothbrush!” This is not charades. The purpose of the exercise is twofold: to get students working with their bodies in unexpected ways and to use their objects as inspiration for the creation of characters—characters that end up quite unique and, oddly, very human. To get there, however, students begin outside of their own humanity. The object presentations become an act of freedom for these students. Freedom from what? Maybe from being human. Philosopher Byung-Chul Han in Saving Beauty (2015) warns of art that “atrophies into the smooth,” reminding us that we need “the invigorating force of life” (45). I think my students need that too: they find themselves in their bodies bouncing like a basketball or whirring around like washing machines. They love it. Perhaps in our digital age, it’s freeing to be an inanimate object, to live again in our bodies, and to leave our minds and emotions for a while. As Laurie Anderson recently put it, “I’m not afraid of machines taking over at all. I’m afraid of people becoming machines” (qtd. in Brown and Epstein). Perhaps in being surrounded by things that too often make us feel like machines, we want, for a moment, to feel alive. To make those things really live. We laugh, we laugh a lot, often uncontrollably.

“Here Us Out”: Building Inclusive Theatre Classrooms through Community Agreements

Brittney S. Harris

Since 2019, the “Here Us Out” exercise has been central to my teaching strategy, fostering inclusivity and collaboration. This activity centers on creating community agreements—codeveloped norms and behaviors essential for my traditional lecture and studio-based theatre classroom success. These agreements establish a classroom culture that values diverse identities and experiences and is adaptable to diverse student populations, promoting an affirming environment. A familiar take on “hear us out,” this exercise amplifies the notion of being in the “here and now,” showing up and being present in a collaborative space where each person’s experience, voice, and beliefs are held equal. I’ve also incorporated these agreements into my community-centered theatre work, which has been incredibly grounding, setting the foundation for how each community member can show up in a performative space for devising and creation.

The “Here Us Out” exercise promotes transparency, accountability, and shared ownership by involving students in the process from the jump. Today’s classrooms bring rich diversity in lived experiences and identities that shape communication in group settings. “Here Us Out” harnesses this diversity by creating an inclusive culture through a structured yet flexible 30–45-minute activity. The activity begins with students individually reflecting on their collaborative experiences, using color-coded sticky notes to identify:

• Three things they “bring” to collaboration

• Three things they “need” from collaboration 

Next, the students place their sticky notes in a central classroom space to reveal shared themes and values. With instructor facilitation, students share these insights aloud. This practice fosters connections, builds empathy, and creates a sense of belonging. It also gives students an equal stake in the classroom culture, making them more invested in maintaining a supportive environment. The exercise culminates in a collective grouping of common themes under each category, resulting in a unified set of expectations designated by the students for the students, promoting accountability and the group’s dynamic of trust and interdependence.

The exercise aligns with live performance concepts by simulating ensemble dynamics, emphasizing mutual respect, trust, and communication. “Here Us Out” allows students to explore the complexities of live performance, offering a space to delve into their work’s metaphysical and emotional dimensions. While there isn’t a one-size-fits-all approach to creating an inclusive learning environment, adaptability is vital. By developing community agreements collectively, students gain valuable insights into the importance of collaboration, preparing them for both individual and communal challenges in their artistic journeys.

Higher Education Adapts to the Era of Generative AI

D. J. Hopkins

For more than a decade, I’ve been researching theatre and new media technologies. So I was well prepared when, at the end of 2022, the launch of ChatGPT inaugurated the Generative AI era that has so profoundly impacted higher education. After all, both theatrical performance and GenAI rely on human–technology collaborations. As a director of my university’s Center for Teaching and Learning, I’ve subsequently spent a good deal of my time speaking publicly about GenAI in the classroom. I’ve been teaching the teachers. Lately, my message has focused on the importance of AI literacy. I’ve been encouraging instructors on my campus to read MLA’s brief but useful “Student Guide to AI Literacy”; promoting the use of “AI Syllabus Statements” as the first opportunity to have a conversation with students about AI use; leading a faculty reading circle about the valuable introductory book Teaching with AI (2024) by José Antonio Bowen and C. Edward Watson; and encouraging instructors to learn more about these new, disruptive apps, which includes promoting enrollment in the AI micro-credential developed on my campus. Despite all this, many of my colleagues (probably also many of yours) remain queasy about GenAI’s incursions into our classes as well as what some faculty see as uncritical encouragement by campus administrators to use it. I get it—me, too! Unlike the AI cheerleaders, I see myself as a tech skeptic and an AI decelerator: I don’t think that every instructor needs to adopt GenAI tools. However, I do think that faculty need to adapt to the changing landscape of higher ed. This means acknowledging that teaching AI literacy has emerged as a new pedagogical responsibility. Even instructors who would prefer to opt out of incorporating these technologies into their assignments will need to upskill for the GenAI era in order to teach our students how to use these tools responsibly—and when not to use them. Of course, teachers of theatre (along with all the arts) have a role to play in this process of adaptation. The traditional mission of higher ed is more important than ever: providing our students with educational experiences that refine their creative and critical thinking skills. Those will always be future-proof resources, long after the phrase “prompt engineering” has become obsolete. AI literacy is an interdisciplinary learning outcome now. That’s something even an AI skeptic can opt to support.

Rehearsing Classroom Conflict

Anna Rogelio Joaquin

Teachers face the complex responsibility of fostering a safe environment for all students while holding space for political friction—not to mention balancing views of our own. In September 2024, I helped lead a professional development (PD) workshop for teachers who were bringing their high school students to a production of Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee’s Inherit the Wind. I found inspiration in the play’s political disagreement and discourse for a PD activity: forum theatre scenes depicting politically charged conflict in schools.

Through the activity, I encouraged teachers to explore ways they navigate political discord in their classes. After a brief introduction to forum theatre and demonstration with a prepared script, I pointed out four signs I had placed around the room: “student walkout,” “union T-shirts,” “classroom debate,” and “choose your own.” I invited the teachers to walk over to a topic that called to them, after which they worked in their newly formed small groups to write a one-minute scene involving students, teacher(s), and an unresolved conflict about their topic of choice. After ten minutes, they performed their scenes for the full group—once straight through, then again with audience interventions.

It was moving to witness the range of ways teachers acted on their instincts and how characters shifted in response. Replicating this activity with a different group of educators would certainly reveal even more strategies. In a reflection, we brainstormed ways the activity could benefit students as well.

While political tension in the classroom is often cause for trepidation, it is also a healthy sign that students are engaging with the world around them. In my facilitation, I emphasized the importance of embracing nonclosure. Not all conflict—whether in or out of the classroom—can end in resolution. What we can do is rehearse, reflect, and retry.

The Ignorant Facilitator: Performing Climate Stories with Young Students

Stephen Ogheneruro Okpadah

In 2023, I embarked on a Practice as Research project in my theatre class for final year students at Otughievwen High School, located in a community marked with a decades-long history of climate crisis in the Niger Delta region of Nigeria. The research focused on how participatory theatre can be used to engage students in the classroom setting with issues on climate injustices. The reason for employing this approach was because of the absence of the representation of diverse voices in the classroom. Pedagogical models that have been previous employed to discuss the root causes and impact of oil spillages and gas flares on the community have been teacher-centered, which Paulo Freire refers to as the banking system of education in which “knowledge is a gift bestowed by those who consider themselves knowledgeable upon those whom they consider to know nothing” (2). I wondered what pedagogy from the lens of vulnerable students who are affected by climate change would look like. I therefore employed multiple methodologies of learning that would advance a democratic deliberative space. I co-curated a workshop with the students as a platform where all participants were able to deliberate equally on their position about the climate scourge. I applied Jacques Rancière’s Ignorant Schoolmaster (1987), whereby the teacher is an emancipator who leads students toward individual liberation, as opposed to the conventional teacher who attempts to deposit knowledge into learners. As an ignorant facilitator-teacher, I stepped back to observe and learn from students who explored from the realm of the known into the unknown and who saw themselves as capable of proffering solutions to existing challenges. I also created the space for the application of Indigenous games—performance modes and storytelling practices peculiar to the Otughievwen people—to enhance learning. This is a decolonial framework for students to easily apply traditional games and performance modes with which they can easily express themselves. This empowered students to produce knowledge and also erased the culture of the teacher’s stultification of democratic learning-knowledges that concentrate on appropriate solutions to the environmental injustices in Otughievwen. This approach also enabled students to be at the center of discourse. They became the subject and architects of the transformation which they seek. Their being at the center of the discussion created a broader understanding of the global climate crisis. 

Creating Serious Theatre in the Classroom—with Consent

Briandaniel Oglesby

I am a playwright who makes theatre with and for teenagers in the classroom. The students help create the world of the plays via devising, improv, and kinesthetic dramaturgy.

Last fall, after a year of comedy, I wanted to make a serious play. I didn’t have a specific subject, but rather a list of events and themes that mattered to me; I also knew to prioritize making a play that mattered to the people in the room.

I had these questions: How do you even start such a play? How do you decide what you and your collaborators will spend the next four months making with their buy-in and consent?

Here’s a summary of the initial process:

1. After some team-building, I brought in topics, themes, and historical figures that intrigued me.

2. I had the students add their own fixations, passions, and curiosities.

3. We established the goal of challenging ourselves to get out of our comfort zone, not to reexperience previous trauma. Discomfort is fine, important even, but if something makes us panic, it’s not for this semester.

4. Each topic was on a card on the other side of the room. The students closed their eyes and, one by one, I tapped them to anonymously remove subjects that would put them in their personal “panic zone.” No one could remove entire identities. Their removals were anonymous to each other, but not to me.

5. I removed topics I was not prepared to create a play around.

6. I pulled bits of research and articles on the remaining topics. We talked through these and “pitched” stories.

7. Students kinesthetically “voted” for the different topics. They moved the cards across the room. A student could move one topic all the way to the end or five topics 1/5th of the way, or whatever increment thereof.

8. The top topics that made it across the room we explored via improvised scenes. We’d “feel” our way through them.

9. We further developed the most interesting scenes. I brought in pages and improv scenarios.

10. I wrestled with the three topics that generated the most “heat.” The knowledge that I will write more plays in the future became vital. After all, I can always return to the topics I didn’t pick.

Thus, a quasi-historical play about lesbian pirates who dressed as men—a play produced in Texas during the height of a vicious drag ban intended to suppress LGBTQ+ folks—was born.

Building On-Task Attention During In-Class Rehearsal Time

Donna Seage

According to the World Health Organization, children who use mobile phones are likely to suffer disruption of memory and decline of attention (Hardell) This can lead to a rise of off-task behavior showing up during in-class rehearsal of scenes or monologues, which is problematic and—if theatre teacher groups on social media are to be believed—widespread. In a TikTok world, students may be unable to focus on tasks for more than a few minutes, which is detrimental to the long-held practice of using in-class time for rehearsal tasks. As theatre teachers, we can build attention span skills by scaffolding activities that promote increasing on-task behaviors. I developed the following technique while working with high school students in Intro to Theatre classes.

Begin by assigning one very specific rehearsal task and providing a very limited amount of time. For instance, “create three motivated blocking movements” and give two minutes. Limiting time for the task will create a sense of urgency. Limiting the tasks assists the students with keeping focus. After two minutes, call everyone back to whole class grouping and have everyone showcase their work. Knowing they may showcase next in line focuses on-task behavior. Next, give another small task—maybe “experiment with character voice”—and another small increment of time, and off they go. Back in whole class grouping, choose a few groups to share their work. Always have someone showcase something and conduct any normal types of discussion or debriefing you like to do. Then, assign another task and another chunk of time, and back to work. Requiring that they keep the choices from previous rounds and layer the new task on top will create complex scenes full of choices. As they sustain attention across tasks, increase the time they are given. If they remain focused while working, time can be silently extended. In any case, call an end to rehearsal and back to whole group if you see anyone losing focus.

Increasing their ability to focus for longer chunks of time is not an immediate cure and will require multiple class periods to practice, but the technique can be used across many different activities and will result in students more able to stay on task and a more productive classroom. In a world where what captures their attention lasts just seconds, teaching them to focus for longer periods of time will yield benefits to them and to the work in your class.

Works Cited

Brown, Jeffrey, and Simon Epstein. “Laurie Anderson on Finding Inspiration in Amelia Earhart’s Story for Her New Album.” PBS News Hour, 4 Oct. 2024, www.pbs.org/newshour/show/laurie-anderson-on-finding-inspiration-in-amelia-earharts-story-for-her-new-album.

Bowen, José Antonio, and C. Edward Watson. Teaching with AI: A Practical Guide to a New Era of Human Learning. Johns Hopkins UP, 2024.

Freire, Paulo. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. 1968. Translated by Myra Bergman Ramos, Continuum, 2000.

Han, Byung-Chul. Saving Beauty. 2015. Translated by Daniel Steuer, Polity Press, 2017.

Hardell, Lennart. “Effects of Mobile Phones on Children’s and Adolescents’ Health: A Commentary.” Child Development, vol. 89, no. 1, 2018, pp. 137–40, doi.org/10.1111/cdev.12831.

Rancière, Jacques. The Ignorant Schoolmaster: Five Lessons in Intellectual Emancipation. 1987. Translated by Kristin Ross, Stanford UP, 1991.