Ancient and Modern Roots of Drama Therapy

INTRODUCTION

The word drama comes from ancient Greek and means quite literally “things done” (Harrison, 1913). Drama therapy is, in simplest terms, the use of action techniques, particularly role play, drama games, improvisation, puppetry, masks, and theatrical performance, in the service of behavior change and personal growth. It has its roots in religion, theatre, education, social action, and mental health/therapy. The North American Drama Therapy Association, created for promoting the field of drama therapy in the United States, was organized  in 1979, but drama therapy has been around much longer than that!

ANCIENT ROOTS: RELIGION AND THEATRE

Evidence in archeological records suggests that early humans began to make art – paintings, sculpture, music, dance, and drama – during the Upper Paleolithic period about 45,000-35,000 years ago. Experts marvel at the suddenness with which the arts burst onto the human scene and tie it to the beginnings of symbolic, metaphoric thought (Pfeiffer, 1982; Mithen, 1996; Lewis-Williams, 2002). Simultaneous with this creative explosion, shamans and priests began utilizing the arts in their healing and religious practices. The origins of the arts and religion seem to be intertwined because the arts naturally provided effective symbolic ways to express abstract religious ideas. Dance and drama, in particular, were extremely useful in rites to create sympathetic and contagious magic as well as to embody myths and rituals. Details about these ancient origins are sketchy, but many scholars have hypothesized about those origins, based on surviving cave paintings, artifacts, myths, and even on extrapolating from contemporary shamanistic practices (Pfeiffer, 1982; Lewis-Williams, 2002).

Greek scholar and cultural anthropologist Jane Ellen Harrison, for instance, theorizes that early art developed directly out of ritual from mimesis or imitation of an experience and became an abstract representation or metaphor which was then available for magical use (Harrison, 1913). However, without a written record providing direct testimony, we cannot know exactly what those ancient practices entailed and how those ancient humans understood their ceremonies.

Eventually, the art form of theatre developed out of religious rites and rituals. Western theatre history usually begins its formal accounts with ancient Greek theatre. Religious festivals dedicated to Dionysus, god of fertility and revelry, featured theatrical competitions in which plays brought mythology to life for the community. The Great Dionysia, held in Athens in early spring, featured tragedies, comedies, and satyr plays written by citizen-poets and performed by citizen-actors for the entire populace. During a choral presentation at one of these festivals around 560 B.C. Thespis, the first actor, stepped away from the chorus to take on an individual character for the first time and theatre, as we know it, was born (Brockett, 1968).

The first written theoretical account of drama therapy can be found in connection with Greek theatre. In Poetics, Aristotle says the function of tragedy is to induce catharsis – a release of deep feelings (specifically pity and fear) to purge the senses and the souls of the spectators (Aristotle, trans. 1954). These cathartic feelings are experienced empathically for the characters in the play by the individuals watching the performance and they share that theatrical/cathartic experience with others in the audience magnifying the release and allowing for an adjustment in the community’s attitude as a whole. According to Aristotle, drama’s purpose is not primarily for education or entertainment, but to release harmful emotions which will lead to harmony and healing in the community (Boal, 1985).

In his analysis of Aristotle’s work, Brazilian director Augusto Boal (1985) suggests that this cathartic release helped preserve the status quo in Greek society, for a populace that is content and at peace will not rebel against the rulers in power. Aristotle’s ideas about catharsis have influenced many psychotherapy models from Freudian psychoanalysis onward by focusing psychotherapeutic work on the idea that insight into troubling emotional issues and healing occurs only after the patient has achieved catharsis. This process is disputed as unrealistic and unnecessary by cognitive-behavioral therapists, rational-emotive therapists, and others who feel that catharsis and insight are not enough to induce healing or change, that new thoughts and behaviors must be learned to replace the old, and that change doesn’t automatically follow emotional release and understanding.

MENTAL HEALTH ROOTS

Ancient physicians recognized the value of drama as a therapeutic tool. Soranus, a second century Roman, believed that the way to cure mentally ill patients was to put them into peaceful surroundings and have them read, discuss, and participate in the production of plays in order to create order in their thinking and offset their depression (Cockerham, 1991). In the fifth century, another Roman Caelius Aurelius took this a step farther. He states in his treatise On Acute Diseases and on Chronic Diseases that in order to achieve emotional balance, patients should go to the theatre and watch a performance that expresses the emotion opposite to their condition. For depression, see a comedy; for mania or hysteria, see a tragedy (Jones, 1996).

For the most part, however, people with mental illness were not treated by taking trips to the theatre or by reading and performing plays; they were locked away in horrible prisons and asylums where they were either forgotten or attempts were made to cure them through exorcisms and treatments which could only be described as torture. Not until the late18th century, with the beginning of the “Moral Treatment” movement, did some mental institutions provide occupational, horticultural, and artistic activities as part of their treatment regimen (Cockerham, 1991; Whitaker, 2001). This approach to treatment continued in enlightened institutions in Europe and America into the 20th century and opened the door to the practice of drama therapy.

The groundwork for inclusion of the art therapies into psychiatric hospitals in the U.S. was laid after World War I. Talk therapy and medical interventions did not help veterans recover from what at the time was called “shell-shock” (now called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), the emotional response to traumatic combat experience. However, the arts did help. In the early 20’s and 30’s, inclusion of the arts in hospital programming was expanded. Occupational therapists at many psychiatric hospitals began involving patients in the rehearsal and performance of plays, pageants, and puppet shows. Interestingly, the genre of plays performed was limited to comedy, so as not to upset the patients (Phillips, 1994).

T. D. Noble, a psychiatrist at Sheppard-Pratt Hospital in the Baltimore, MD area, noticed that patients in his psychotherapy sessions who had acted in the hospital plays were able to understand and identify emotions better than other patients, could link their present emotional state and behavior to their earlier trauma more easily, and were able to experiment with alternative modes of behavior with more flexibility (Phillips, 1994). He wrote in a 1933 issue of Occupational Therapy and Rehabilitation that he found drama was a vehicle for the discovery and expression of conscious and unconscious conflicts. Playing other characters in the plays, he noted, helped patients release repressed emotions so that they could later deal with them directly in therapy. He also observed that drama was a useful diversion and encouraged socialization among patients (Phillips, 1994).

SOCIAL ROOTS OF DRAMA THERAPY

The social action root of drama therapy can be traced to Hull House and other sites of the settlement movement. Jane Addams opened Hull House in 1889 to serve as a socializing, civilizing, connective, and reforming force for the immigrant, working-class neighborhood of the Nineteenth Ward of Chicago’s West Side (Jackson, 2001). She set up a series of what she termed “Lines of Activity:” courses, lectures, and group experiences which would bring culture, education, social connection, and change to the community living in proximity to the settlement house. The most popular activities were the drama clubs which provided socialization, a creative outlet, and an exciting group experience which led to a product shared with others (Jackson, 2001). Young people would join drama clubs at the age of seven or eight and found so much meaning in their work together that they would remain in them until they were in their 30’s and 40’s. The Little Theatre or community theatre movement grew, in part, out of the enthusiasm for amateur performance that the Hull House drama clubs created (Hecht, 1991).

Movement and recreational groups were run for children at Hull House by Neva Boyd (Jackson, 2001). She used games and improvisation to teach language skills, problem-solving, self-confidence and social skills. Boyd became a sociology and theatre professor at the University of Chicago and is one of the founders of the Recreational Therapy and Educational Drama movements in the U.S. Her student Viola Spolin, learned Boyd’s techniques and developed them further, writing the widely-studied Improvisation for the Theatre, from which many theatre games and improvisation techniques used in American theatre training and in drama therapy originate (Spolin, 1963).

AMERICAN FORE-RUNNERS IN THE FIELD OF DRAMA THERAPY

The surge in the growth of educational theatre in the U.S. can be traced to this source and to the educational theatre program at Northwestern University in Chicago which was helmed by Winifred Ward. Many founders of the National Association for Drama Therapy began as creative drama teachers. Drama therapists like Eleanor Irwin, Rosilyn Wilder, Naida Weisberg, Rose Pavlow, Jan Goodrich, and Patricia Sternberg discovered the therapeutic benefits of process drama through their work with young children and extended it to other populations in an intentional manner.

Lewis Barbato is credited with first using the term drama therapy in print in an article he wrote in 1945 for the Journal of Psychodrama and Group Psychotherapy, and Florsheim published a book in which she discussed utilizing the enactment of scripted plays as therapy in 1945 (Casson, 2004). However, Gertrud Schattner, a Viennese actress, is credited with popularizing the term drama therapy and providing the impetus to create a national organization in the U.S (Reiter, 1996). In order to avoid Hitler’s invasion of Austria, Gertrud fled to Switzerland for safety during the Second World War on a temporary visa. When it expired, she used her acting skills to have herself admitted to a mental hospital as a patient, convincing the doctors that she was suicidal. She learned a great deal about mental illness from “hiding out” in the hospital (Reiter, 1996).

Gertrud ended up marrying Edward Schattner, a psychiatrist working with refugees and survivors of Nazi concentration camps in a Swiss tuberculosis sanitarium. While he was able to make his patients’ bodies healthier, he had little success healing their utter desperation, depression, and despair. Edward asked Gertrud to come in to the sanitarium to do drama, storytelling, and poetry with the patients in a recreational vein. Through their participation in drama, they began to come back to life. Gertrud recognized what she was doing was something special and out of the ordinary – she called it drama therapy (Schattner, 1981; Reiter, 1996).

After the war the Schattners moved to the U.S. and Gertrud practiced drama therapy in a number of social service organizations and psychiatric hospitals in the New York City area. She taught the first drama therapy courses at Turtle Bay Music Center on Long Island (Reiter, 1996). In the early 1970’s, she and drama educator Richard Courtney began approaching other people who were doing similar work to collaborate on a publication which became Drama In Therapy, Volume One: Children and Volume Two: Adults, the first books in print about drama therapy (Schattner & Courtney, 1981). She and a number of those other pioneers, including David Read Johnson, Eleanor Irwin, Marilyn Richman, Rosilyn Wilder, Naida Weisberg, Ramon Gordon, Jan Goodrich, Barbara Sandberg, and others formed the National Association for Drama Therapy (now the North American Drama Therapy Association) in 1979 in order to promote the training and education of drama therapists, to establish standards for registry, and to promote the field (Finneran, 1999).

EUROPEAN ROOTS OF DRAMA THERAPY

At the same time as drama therapy was developing in Great Britain. The British put the two words together: dramatherapy. Sue Jennings reports that because psychotherapy is one word, British dramatherapists felt their modality should also be expressed in one word. Peter Slade, who as early as 1939 addressed the British Medical Association on the new modality, said he felt it had more force that way. (Jones, 1996).

British origins can be connected to the educational drama work of Peter Slade in the 1930’s in an arts center in Worchester. He wrote Child Drama in 1954, the first book to connect drama with helping children develop emotional and physical control, confidence, observation skills, and abilities to be tolerant and considerate of others. In 1959, Slade began calling what he and others were doing dramatherapy in a pamphlet entitled “Dramatherapy as an Aid to Becoming a Person.” (Jones, 1996).

Brian Way developed similar ideas about the essential growth drama offers participants in his classic book  Development through Drama, which collected ideas and methods from his work in educational drama from the 40’s through the mid-60’s (Way, 1967). Dorothy Heathcote used drama in education for teaching purposes, but also as a way for children to develop insight, understanding, and empathy. In 1964 Marian Lindkvist created the first dramatherapy training program, the Sesame Institute, which focused on drama and movement as forms of learning and expression, particularly in work with children with special needs. Peter Slade worked with her to deepen their method through psychological training.

Another early pioneer was Sue Jennings who began doing drama at a psychiatric hospital when she was a young drama student and called the work she was doing “remedial drama” (Jones, 1996). In the 1970’s, she completed a Ph.D. in anthropology which focused on ritual and started referring to her work as “dramatherapy.” (Jones, 1996). The British Association for Dramatherapists (BADth) was created in 1976 to promote the education and credentialing of dramatherapists in the UK (Jones, 1996). It is interesting to note that this is just three years before the NADT was formed in the U.S. While the British and the American forms of drama therapy developed separately and have different theoretical emphases, they truly did develop along parallel lines and in a similar pattern.

Drama therapy also has a history in Russia and the Netherlands. Phil Jones, in Drama as Therapy: Theatre as Living talks about two Russian drama therapists who were influenced strongly by the work of Stanislavky (Jones, 1996). Nicholai Evreinov, a Russian director, created a method he called Theatrotherapy which focused on the internal and psychological processes involved in acting to create healing and well-being in participants and help them re-frame or re-imagine their difficulties into a new way of life. Vladimir Iljine also created a Therapeutic Theatre in the years before the Russian Revolution (1908-1917) using theatre games and improvisational training to encourage flexibility, spontaneity, expressiveness, and communication abilities. He used his methods with individuals and groups in many situations and locations: psychiatric patients, people with emotional problems, and actors in the theatre (Jones, 1996).

After the Revolution there were others who carried on this work. One, Nikolai Sergevich Govorov, developed a theatrical storytelling technique, which he used to help psychiatric patients and others develop social connections, self-confidence, and socially appropriate behavior (A. Martin, personal communication, June 2, 2004). He felt that much of mental health depended on people having the ability to socialize and support each other morally and humanly. Govorov was very aware of Evreinov’s work and consciously built on it and other Western therapeutic theatre work (A. Martin, personal communication, June 2, 2004). His work developed between the 1950’s and the 1970’s.

One other country in which drama therapy currently thrives is The Netherlands. In the late 40’s, Activity Leaders involved with social welfare and youth care in community and residential care centers began using the arts and play for self-expression and social interaction (Jones, 1996). This gave rise to The Netherlands Society for Creative Expressive Therapy in the 1960s; a branch for dramatherapists was formed in 1981. There are, perhaps, more drama therapists per capita in the Netherlands than anywhere else in the world!

OTHER INFLUENCES

Two other individuals should be mentioned as important influences on drama therapy. The first is Constantin Stanislavky. Before Stanislavsky, theatre was not considered a psychological art. His work at the Moscow Art Theatre (1900-1938) set the stage, not just for actor training in the 20th century, but also for the use of his methods as tools for connecting with the emotional mind by other educators and psychotherapy professionals (Blair, 2002). His intuitive utilization of the imagination (the brain’s natural ability to create imagery and metaphor), the unconscious (as a gateway to connecting with true emotion), and given circumstances (embodying the actor in the physical and psychological details of the moment in which the character is) mesh with research that has been done on neurology and brain processes in the past fifteen years. The body-mind is essentially one, as Antonio Damasio explains in Descartes’ Error and The Feeling of What Happens, and as Stanislavsky’s methods demonstrate (Blair, 2002). Stanislavsky’s methods deeply influenced not just the Russian drama therapists, but also theatre artists from the West, most notably in our case, Viola Spolin and the American theatre educators who developed into the first drama therapists.

The other critical individual who must be mentioned is Jacob Levy Moreno, the father of sociometry, sociodrama, and psychodrama (Johnson in Lewis & Johnson, 2000). Moreno, born in Bucharest in 1889, grew up and studied medicine in Vienna. There, as an attending physician at a refugee camp at Mitterndorf at the end of World War I, he developed sociometry, a method of assessing of the social choices made within a group by its members and then intervening in a systemic way to create social change (Garcia & Buchanan in Johnson & Lewis, 2000). He applied these new measurements and intervention tools to create order and improve living conditions in the displaced residents’ lives. It worked! Later he started what amounted to a support group for Viennese prostitutes, using role play and improvisation to help them find solutions to social problems with which they were faced.

From 1920-24 Moreno led The Theatre of Spontaneity, an improvisational theatre in which professional actors created spontaneous drama based on current events. This work developed into sociodrama and later psychodrama as the focus changed from the community and social issues to personal and psychological issues of individuals. Moreno emigrated to the U.S. in 1925 where he continued developing his methods with the general public through the Impromptu Theatre at Carnegie Hall and by consulting at prisons, psychiatric hospitals, and residential treatment centers. In these latter institutions, he helped individuals who had serious personal, emotional or social problems learn how to function better (Blatner, 2000). The American Society for Group Psychotherapy and Psychodrama (ASGPP) was founded in 1942. Many of the pioneers of creative arts therapy movements, experiential therapy, and traditional talk therapy came to his sessions and were influenced by his work, including Marion Chase, Eric Berne, Arthur Janov, and Fritz Perls (Blatner, 2000; Johnson in Lewis & Johnson, 2000).

Psychodrama and drama therapy purists would argue that Moreno’s work is not a subset of drama therapy, but there is some truth to the idea that Moreno was the “first drama therapist,” as he identified role and social relationships as important therapeutic issues through his writing and work with clients long before American or British drama therapists became organized or began publishing (Johnson in Lewis & Johnson, 2000). My view of psychodrama is that it is part of the drama therapy toolbox, and, therefore, its story rightfully belongs as part of drama therapy history.

CURRENT AND FUTURE DIRECTIONS

Currently, there are four Master degree programs in the U.S. and one in Canada approved by NADTA for training drama therapists: New York University in New York City, California Institute for Integral Studies in San Francisco, Lesley University in Cambridge, MA, Antioch University in Seattle, WA, and Concordia University in Montreal, Quebec. NADTA has also developed an alternative training program that allows students to work with a Board Certified Trainer/Mentor to create an individualized program of study in drama therapy in conjunction with a Masters degree in theatre, social work, counseling, special education, or another related discipline. Kansas State University functions as the only university with a drama therapy program under Alternative Training.

Being an interdisciplinary field, training in drama therapy requires courses in psychology/therapy, drama therapy, and other creative arts therapy as well as internships in which students practice their skills and receive supervision from experienced professional drama therapists and other credentialed mental health professionals.

The professional credential for drama therapists in the U.S. and Canada is the R.D.T. (Registered Drama Therapist) which can be applied for after one has finished an appropriate Masters degree, the approved drama therapy and psychology coursework, an 800 hour drama therapy internship, a minimum of 500 hours of theatre experience and a minimum of 1,500 hours of professional hours working as a drama therapist. Most registered drama therapists have much more than a minimum of 500 hours of

Most registered drama therapists have much more than a minimum of 500 hours of theatre when they discover drama therapy since most begin as theatre artists or educators who discover the healing aspects of drama through their theatre training and work. However, more and more social workers, counselors, and special educators are discovering that talk therapy is not enough; that there is a need for “things done” in therapy for insight and change to be effective for clients. As this happens, drama therapists with theatre origins are being joined by drama therapists with clinical mental health backgrounds who have discovered the magic and intrinsic healing value of drama. Among the ranks of drama therapy students, there are also ministers, priests, and rabbis who have discovered the healing power of drama therapy. Perhaps this is an indication that we are rounding the bend to complete the circle to the place where our drama therapy roots began.

DRAMA THERAPY TIMELINE

 43,000 BC – 33,000 BC Homo sapiens sapiens begin thinking symbolically and creating arts (painting, sculpting, dance, drama).

 

TIME

EUROPE RUSSIA

NORTH AMERICA

400-500 BCE     GreeceOrigins of Greek Theatre    
534 BCE             GreecePrize for Best Tragedy established at City Dionysia Festival.    
c. 560 BCE Greece:  Thespus steps out of Greek Chorus to become first actor.    
c. 335-323 BCE Greece:  Aristotle writes Poetics.
     
c. 100-200 ACE  Rome Soranus has mentally ill patients reading and performing plays.    
c. 500 ACE     Rome:  Caelius Aurelius writes On Acute Diseases and on Chronic Diseases.    
 1789 Paris: Moral Therapy reforms begun by Phillippe Pinel and continued by others in Europe.   Moral Therapy continued by others in America.
1889-1900     Hull House, ChicagoTheatre and theatre games with immigrants by Edith de Nancrede and Neva Boyd.
1900-1930 Moscow: Constantin Stanislavski develops his psychological acting method at the Moscow Art Theatre. Hull House, ChicagoTheatre and theatre games with immigrants by Edith de Nancrede and Neva Boyd.
1908-1917  Vienna:  Jacob Moreno develops sociometry. (1917) Kiev: Vladimir Iljine develops Therapeutic Theatre.  
1920-24 Vienna:  Moreno creates the Theatre of Spontaneity. St. Petersburg: Nicholai Evreinov develops   Theatrotheatre.  
1925     Chicago:  Winifred Ward begins educational drama movement; Neva Boyd begins therapeutic recreation movement.
1926-40        New York:  Jacob Moreno developing psychodrama in prisons/hospitals.
1930’s UK:  Peter Slade begins working with children. Occupational therapists using drama with residents in psychiatric hospitals.

Chicago: Viola Spolin is developing her improvisation methods.

1940– 47               Switzerland:  Gertrud Schattner works with refugees in Swiss sanitarium.    
1942     New York:  Moreno founds American Society for Group Psychotherapy & Psychodrama                                                (ASGPP).
1947     New York:  Schattner and Moreno work in schools and hospitals.
1950-70 UK:  Peter Slade writes Child Drama (1954).

UK:  Peter Slade writes Dramatherapy as an Aid to becoming a Person (1959).

UK:  Sue Jennings begins doing “remedial drama” (1960).

The Netherlands: The Netherlands Society for Expressive Therapy formed (1960).

St. Petersburg: Nikolai Govorov develops his drama therapy techniques. New York:  Schattner and Moreno work in schools and hospitals.

 

 

                                                  

1964 UK:  Marian Lindkvist opens The Sesame Institute (1964).   New York: Schattner teaches 1st DT training program at Turtle Bay Music Institute.
1975     Chicago: Marilyn “Toddy” Richman founds The Institute for Therapy Through the Arts.
1976 UK: British Association for Dramatherapy (BADth) founded.    
1979     National Association for Drama Therapy  (NADT) founded.

National Coalition for Creative Arts Therapies (NCCATA) founded.

1981 The NetherlandsDrama Therapy Branch formed in The Netherlands Society for Creative Expressive Therapy   Drama In Therapy, Vols. I and II, published, edited by Gertrud Schattner and Richard Courtney.
1982     Pittsburgh, PA: First Registered Drama Therapist: Eleanor Irwin.

New York: 1st DT MA Program approved at  NYU.

1983     California: 2nd DT MA Program approved at Antioch-Sacremento, later moved to California Institute of Integral Studies in San Francisco.
1999     Montreal: 3rd DT MA Program approved at Concordia University.
2012     NADT changes its name to North American Drama Therapy Association (NADTA) to better represent membership, which includes many Canadian members,
2014     Cambridge, MA: 4th DT MA Program approved at Lesley University.
2015     Seattle, WA: 5th DT MA Program approved at Antioch University.

Drama Therapy Review: First issue of the first journal devoted solely to drama therapy. DTR documents and disseminates research on the relationship between drama, theatre, and wellness.

 

Bibliography

Aristotle. (1954). Aristotle’s rhetoric and poetics. NY: The Modern Library.

Blair, R. (2002). Reconsidering Stanislavsky: Feeling, feminism, and the actor. Theatre Topics. (12), 2, 177-190.

Blatner, A. (2000). Foundations of psychodrama. NY: Springer Publishing Company.

Brockett, O. (1968). History of the theatre. Boston: Allyn and Bacon, Inc.

Boal, A. (1985). Theatre of the oppressed. NY: Theatre Communications Group.

Casson, J. (June 30, 2004). “Tribute to Peter Slade,” read at Peter Slade’s funeral.

Cockerham, W. C. (2000). Sociology of mental disorder. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall.

Damasio, A. (1994). Descartes’ error: Emotion, reason, and the human brain. New York: Avon Books.

Damasio, A. (1999). The feeling of what happens: Body and emotion in the making of consciousness. San Diego: Harcourt, Inc.

Finneran, L. (1999). Beginnings: Letters to and from Gert. (Dramascope. (19) 2, 1, 18-20.

Gordon, R. (1999). Beginnings: Cell Block Theatre. Dramascope. (19) 1, 1, 13, 26.

Harrison, J. E. (1913). Ancient art and ritual. Bath, England: Moonraker Press.

Hecht, S. J. (1991). Edith de Nancrede at Hull House: Theatre programs for youth.Youth Theatre Journal. (6)1, 3-10.

Jackson, S. (2001). Lines of activity: Performance, historiography, Hull-House domesticity. Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan.

Jones, P. (1996). Drama as therapy: Theatre as living. London: Routledge.

Landy, R. (1997). Drama therapy – The state of the art. The Arts in Psychotherapy. (24)1, 5-15.

Lewis P. & Johnson D. R. (Eds.). (2000). Current approaches in drama therapy. Springfield, IL: Charles C. Thomas Publisher.

Lewis-Williams, D. (2002). The mind in the cave: Consciousness and the origins of art. London: Thames & Hudson.

Mithen, S. (1996). The prehistory of the mind: The cognitive origins of art, religion and science. London: Thames and Hudson, Ltd.

Pfeiffer, J.E. (1982). The creative explosion: An inquiry into the origins of art and religion. New York: Harper & Row.

Philips, M. E. (1996). The use of drama and puppetry in occupational therapy during the 1920’s and 1930’s. The American Journal of Occupational Therapy (50)3, 229- 233.

Reiter, S. (1996). Honoring Gert Schattner. Dramascope (14)1, 1, 3.

Schattner, G. & Courtney, R. (1981). Drama in therapy, Volume One: Children, NY: Drama Book Specialists.

Slade, P. (1954). Child drama. London: Hodder and Stoughton.

Slade, P. (1959). Dramatherapy as an aid to becoming a person. Pamphlet, Guild of Pastoral Psychology.

Spolin, V. (1963). Improvisation for the theatre. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University.

Stanislavsky, C. (1936). An actor prepares. New York: Theatre Arts Books.

Way, B. (1967). Development through drama. Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press.

Whitaker, R. (2001). Mad in America: Bad science, bad medicine, and the enduring mistreatment of the mentally ill. Cambridge, MA: Perseus Publishing.

Ideas for Inclusive Playwriting

Think in terms of the strengths and talents of your actors – what do they do best?

INCORPORATE THEIR STRENGTHS AND INTERESTS INTO THE SCRIPT.

Think of ways to SIDE-STEP the WEAKNESSES of your actors.

  • You can do this by not giving actors action or lines that you know would be difficult for them.
  • Incorporate other actors into the scene who can help them (see ideas below).

    CAST the play before you begin to write so you can pair up people who can help each other in different ways during the course of the play.

    INCORPORATE SPECIAL TALENTS:
  • Playing an instrument,
  • Dancing,
  • Singing,
  • Pantomime,
  • Juggling,
  • Magic Tricks,
  • Telling jokes,
  • Howling like a werewolf,
  • Puppetry,
  • Pratfalls, etc.

    INCORPORATE wheelchairs and other devices into the play so there is a reason for the devices to be onstage:
  • Thrones,
  • Carriages,
  • Royal litters,
  • Haywagons,
  • Ambulances,
  • Trucks,
  • Cabs, etc.

    • On the other hand, you don’t HAVE to have a rationale or excuse for a character to be in a wheelchair or to have another obvious disability – you can have that just be part of that character that is not even remarked upon in the play.

• Don’t let a device or a disability stop a character from doing what he or she needs to do in the play. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

IF A LINE IS DIFFICULT TO SAY, rewrite it:

  • Use different words
  • Change the order of the phrases
  • Shorten the line


USING MEMORIZATION STRENGTHS:

• Use the natural speaking rhythms, phrasing, and vocabulary of your actors, especially if the script is based on their improvisations. If the lines are already in their words, speech, and thought patterns, they will be easier for actors to speak and remember.

• If you have an actor who is a good memorizer, have him or her ask questions in a scene to an actor who is not as good at memorization. It is easier to remember the answer to a question (especially since you know the answer from the script) than it is to remember a question.

• However, don’t have characters answer just “yes” or “no,” as they may become confused about which answer to say. Have answers be with specific Who, What, Where, and When information that relates clearly to the story and which can be more easily remembered.

• An actor who is a good memorizer can also handle the part of someone in authority, who gives orders.

• If an actor has a joke – make sure he/she understands the humor/meaning behind it, or he won’t be able to remember it.

• Incorporate reminders for actions and lines into the dialogue of actors who can memorize – make sure those reminders are phrased in positive terms. An actor with a cognitive disability will do what he or she is told to do, but can become confused if the hint is phrased in a negative way (For example, if you want an actor to go into a cave, a hint from another actor like, “Don’t go in there!” probably will be taken as a direction to not go in!).

If a line is phrased indirectly (“I wonder where we should go next?”) the actor being cued won’t be helped…because there is no hint in the line.

• Use a live or recorded narrator to structure the scene.

• Use music and/or sound effects to remind characters about entrances or exits or cue changes in the action within a scene.

• Incorporate video or film into your play. These scenes won’t have to be memorized. And they can be filmed as many times as you need in rehearsal until they are just right.


SIDESTEPPING problems with MEMORIZATION:

• A character like a TV interviewer, talk show host, doctor, or detective can have a clipboard of notes that can be referred to for the questions they might have to ask other characters. It looks realistic to incorporate the lines written on those props.

• Create groups of characters who work together onstage with at least one actor involved who has a good sense of direction and memorization. Everyone else can follow along and do their appropriate lines and actions if they have someone reliable to follow.

• In rehearsals encourage actors to improvise if they forget a line and to help fellow actors remember lines through asking them appropriate questions in character. Let them practice so they will be ready if it happens in performance.


SIDESTEPPING problems with actors who are NOT CLEAR SPEAKERS:

• Have another character repeat the line incredulously, pretending they understood what was said.
“I didn’t do it!”
“You didn’t do it? How do you expect me to believe that?”


or…more subtly…


“You expect me to believe that you didn’t do it?”
“I went to the store”
“Yes, I know you went to the store, but what did you buy there?”

• Have the actor who does not speak clearly play a foreign character who nobody in the play understands or play someone who always mutters under their breath. (Example: Swen Swenson, the Swedish cinematographer, has been hired because of his movie making talents, but he speaks no English. That’s ok because all he needs to understand to do his job is “Action” and “Cut.”)

There could be a legitimate reason why a character can’t speak. For instance:

  • She is a professional mime,
  • He has laryngitis because he yelled too loudly at the football game,
  • She’s taken a vow of silence for religious reasons,
  • He is refusing to speak because he is angry,
  • Her voice was stolen by an evil wizard.

SIDESTEPPING problems with actors who CAN’T REMEMBER BLOCKING:

• Have the character teamed with a duo or trio of others who can remember blocking.

• Cast the actor a character who is a ruler or rich person who needs a personal assistant to be at his beck and call. (The personal assistant can be an actor who knows what to do and where to go and will be the one who is really in control, but will not look like it).

Behavior Change Through Drama Therapy with Students with Special Needs

A number of years ago I was hired as a drama consultant to conduct ten sessions in a special education classroom at Diamond Elementary School in Gaithersburg, MD, north of Washington, DC. The children were between the ages of 9 and 12. A number had severe learning disabilities and several had various forms of mental retardation. Besides basic reading and math skills, students focused on learning life skills like how to shop, how to make change, how to travel on the bus and subway systems, and other essentials to survival in a large urban area.

When I asked the teacher if there were any educational or social issues I could help with, she immediately said she’d been having trouble with students getting along in the classroom. Certain students would tease others and tears would result. Pencils and other small items got “borrowed” from desks without permission and angry accusations of stealing ensued, along with pushing, shoving, insults, and the inevitable hurt feelings.

I decided to start with identifying emotions and move on to practicing problem-solving social skills through role-playing. We started out simply. We had fun drawing faces and making faces and talking about feelings. Then we started identifying emotions in others by looking at pictures of faces to figure out what these people were feeling. We moved on to show how we felt with our whole bodies and by the way we moved. Then we began to tackle situations of conflict in the classroom.

I wasn’t sure how quickly these children would catch on to that fact that we were just pretending these situations. They’d never had drama before, either in their classroom or as an extracurricular activity. I didn’t want confusion between fantasy and reality to create more bad feelings than already existed. The “worst possible scenario player” in my head created visions of children crying and yelling, “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” at each other while the teacher and the principal kicked me out the front door of the school with the admonition never to set foot in Gaithersburg again!

Needless to say, my worst fears were not played out. In fact, each time I set up a dramatic situation in which one student was supposed to create a conflict with another and demonstrate their worst behavior, they insisted on doing the “right thing” and resolving their conflicts peacefully. I started to feel frustrated because I couldn’t get a fight going! Even with direct permission from me to enact an example of “the bad way” or “the wrong way,” they insisted on listening to each other with sensitivity and offering generous win-win solutions.

At the end of class, I shrugged my shoulders and half-seriously said to the teacher, “I’m sorry. I tried. I couldn’t get them to misbehave.” She nodded sagely and said, “Actually, I learned a lot today. Probably more than they did. I learned how much they actually do understand about appropriate behavior. I’m going to have much higher expectations of them now.”

Behavior change. I wish it were simple. I wish, when a student didn’t know how to behave, I could tell him what to do and he’d just do it! Or when a client is not behaving the way I want her to, I could tell her how to change…and she would!

But we all know it’s not that easy. It takes motivation to learn; it takes rehearsal over a period of time; and most of all, it takes patience on the part of the learner and the teacher until the old behavior has been extinguished and the new behavior has come to be second nature.

This is without addressing the issue of learning styles; the fact that each person has a different profile of preferences, both sensory and neurological, for taking in information. Some people are haptic and have to actually kinesthetically experience a new skill, others need to see someone else do it;  others grasp the information best through hearing and reflecting back, and most of us need to do a combination of all three.

Mel Levine, M.D., a pediatrician and expert in the learning and behavior of children, has identified specific neurodevelopmental systems or constructs that each different kind of learning task requires in his book A Mind at a Time (2002). The components within these constructs don’t work alone; they are interconnected and dependent on each other, but the construct framework provide a handy metaphor through which to look at the skills that certain learning tasks require. A block or weakness in a particular system — Levine calls them “breakdown points” – requires pinpointing the exact breakdown through carefully observing the child’s behavior while involved in the learning task, then ascertaining whether this particular individual can heal/improve that breakdown or if it would be more efficient to substitute some other strength from a different process to bypass the “glitch.” To educators and parents who ask, “How can you expect me to invest so much time and expertise in each individual I’m responsible to teach?” and Dr. Levine responds, “Because it’s your job!”

Dr. Levine is one of my ultimate heroes, along with Howard Gardner, Ph.D., who posits that intelligence is multiple and can be accessed, measured, and expressed through the arts, and Daniel Goleman, Ph.D., who speaks eloquently about the necessity of Emotional Intelligence for our social survival. What my three heroes haven’t yet discovered, however, is that the best tool available for implementing their wonderful ideas is drama therapy.

Drama therapy is quite simply the intentional use of drama or (to use the Greek translation of the word) doing to achieve new understanding of oneself and others. Depending on the requirements of the situation and the needs of the students/clients involved, drama therapy can focus purely on discovery through process drama (role-play, creative drama, improvisation, etc.) or can lead to rehearsal and the creation of a formal product (performance). Either way, our most basic human developmental learning strategies are harnessed: imitation and dramatic play which begin universally at about age 3 in most children as well as the use of metaphor for framing and understanding concepts which begins a little later. As drama – watched or participated in – is an embodied, three dimensional, sensory experience, all possible learning styles are encompassed with students listening, speaking, seeing, moving, thinking, feeling, inventing, and replaying by turns or simultaneously. In addition, all the intelligences are accessed at some point in the process. As can be seen in the chart below, all of Aristotle’s elements of drama are reflected in Gardner’s multiple intelligences:

 VERBAL-LINGUISTIC

PLOT, LANGUAGE

Words spoken or signed

LOGICAL-MATHEMATICAL

PLOT,
THOUGHT

Sequence, logical reasoning

VISUAL-SPATIAL

SPECTACLE

Costumes, Sets,
Props, Stage pictures

BODILY-KINESTHETIC

DANCE/CHARACTER

Blocking, Gesture, Dance, Posture, Pose


The connection between drama and multiple intelligences was first identified by the Southeast Institute for Education in Theatre at the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga in their Data Based Theatre Education model (DBTE). What it ultimately means for parents and educators is that when dramatic forms are used to express an idea, the multiple intelligences are naturally all stimulated simultaneously.

What’s most exciting is that while most of us are not pediatricians or neurologists or educational psychologists, we all are expert dramatists. You may not have ever acted in a play, but you have acted out imaginary stories in your backyard or basement while you were growing up, you’ve rehearsed and performed job interviews and presentations, you’ve even occasionally “created dramatic scenes” for good or ill with the other people in your life.

Drama is like riding a bicycle. Once you learn how to do it, you might not “do it” for years, but you always remember how – that inner balance and relationship between your body and mind never leaves you. It comes back naturally, the minute you put it back into practice.

Of course, you can always develop those dramatic skills further – hone them so that they can be used seamlessly in the classroom, at meetings, demonstrations and workshops, and on the job as methods of communication, training, and clarity. The best part is that whether it’s through a formal class, a workshop, or a community play, dramatic skills are not only useful, they’re fun to develop. And the next best part is that the students who you’ll be teaching are also expert dramatists, with perhaps more recent hands-on practice that you!

I discovered in my years of teaching children, adolescents, and adults with and without disabilities that if you, as the leader, are willing to initiate dramatic play, your students will join in. Maybe not with perfect behavior, but gladly! Enthusiastically! Even students with no previous dramatic training in the special education room at Diamond Elementary knew how to role play!

Bibliography:

Bailey, S. (1993). Wings to fly: Bringing theatre arts to students with special needs, Bethesda: Woodbine House.

Bailey, S. & Agogliati, L. (2002) Dreams to sign, Bethesda: Imagination Stage.

Gardner, H. (1993).  Multiple intelligences: The theory in practice, NY: Bantam Books.

Gardner, H. (1999).  Intelligence reframed: Multiple intelligences for the 21st century, NY: Basic Books.

Goleman, D. (1995).  Emotional intelligence: Why it matters more than IQ, NY: Bantam Books.

Levine, S. (2002). A Mind At A Time, NY: Simon & Schuster.

1 Drama comes from the Greek dran, “to do,” hypothetically derived from dra-, “to work” or “deed” and has developed into our modern concept of drama as action through which something of value is accomplished. Webster’s New World Dictionary of the American Language, 2nd ed., 1970.

The Process of Healing: Expression from Within, Insight, and Release through the Arts

The following article was presented as part of the Keynote Panel for the International Creative Arts Therapies Conference in Tokyo, Japan, on October 10, 2006:

Human behavior is extremely complex. It develops based on genetic inheritance, environment before and after birth, and experiences in our families, schools, and communities. Our individual and collective histories, as well as our present, contribute to the emotions we feel, the thoughts we think, and the behaviors we express.

Until recently much of what we have known about psychology and human behavior has been guessed at by theorists and researchers. Some of those guesses were incorrect, while others have been intuitively very close to how we actually function. Psychotherapies that developed from those guesses were either “off the mark” and didn’t work or were “on the mark” and did. But even when therapies did work, no one really knew why they did.

In the last 15 years brain researchers have made many discoveries about how the brain functions. These discoveries point the way to psychotherapies that are effective and should be the treatments of choice for prevention and intervention by mental health systems.

My belief is that the creative arts therapies best fit how the brain actually functions and can provide more effective means for healing than the current talk therapy methods in favor today. Through the work of Damasio, LeDoux, and others, we now know that the neurological systems for emotion and reason interact. Emotion and reason work together within the brain to create feelings, thoughts, and behavior (Cozolino, 2002; Damasio, 1994, 1999; Goleman, 2006; LeDoux, 1998). In the process of decision-making there are several intersections where the rational and emotional systems communicate with each other. In fact, it is impossible to make good decisions using only our rational mind – we must also use our emotions. We know a decision is a good one, if it feels right. Individuals whose brains can’t communicate between the rational and the emotional systems either make extremely poor decisions or find they are unable to make any decisions at all!

Research in immunology has proven that our minds and our bodies are not separate. They work together. The body affects the brain and the brain affects the body. Chronic stress damages the immune system. Laughter and humor enhance it. Art, dance, drama, music, and poetry all engage the body and the mind together, stimulating neurotransmitters that make us feel better, generating hormones that lower the level of cortisol and other stress hormones.

One of the most important discoveries has been mirror neurons. Mirror neurons are activated whenever we see someone take an action – from an activity as large as running to one as subtle as a look of concern. Mirror neurons activate the identical location in our brain that was activated in the brain of the person we saw. For example, when a dancer moves, the same neurons which are activated in the dancer’s motor cortex are activated in the motor cortex of the audience. When a person smiles, the identical motor and emotional neurons are activated in whoever sees the smile (Goleman, 2006; Hagendoorn, 2003).

What is created from this interaction is an empathic connection from one person to another. We are able to understand what another person is feeling or thinking or doing – because our brain is mirroring virtually, what their brain is doing actually.

Sometimes the mirroring creates more than a virtual experience: as our brain copies what the other brain does, we often copy the action as well. Have you ever found yourself automatically smiling back at someone who is smiling at you? Or feeling sad as someone is crying?

Imitative learning is also made possible by our mirror neurons. Have you ever learned how to do something – play a sport or drive a car – by watching someone do it? That is an example of your mirror neurons at work.

In drama, dance, art, music, and poetry therapy our mirror neurons are actively engaged in the therapy. As we interact with each other to create art and to communicate, we are creating brain connections, social connections, and new understandings that just talking about problems with a therapist does not even begin to access.

Trauma researchers have discovered that traumatic experience re-wires the brain (Cozolino, 2002; Van der Kolk, 2002). Trauma enters the body through the non-verbal, emotional systems and gets “caught” there. Without words the trauma cannot be spoken about and understood by the rational systems (remember the emotional and rational systems must work together for us to truly process and understand an experience), so the trauma stays stuck in the emotional system. Therapists who try to release trauma through talk alone, end up with clients who become overwhelmed and dissociate.

However, the arts therapies have nonverbal and verbal elements. Working with line, color, shape, sound, silence, movement, pace, and rhythm allows clients to access the trauma — then the words of lyrics, role-playing , poetry, and story provide a bridge to allow the traumatic experience to be spoken about, healed and released.

One last thought…the creative arts are natural byproducts of the brain. We are “hard-wired” to acquire language (Pinker, 1994). No one needs to go to school to learn how to speak her native tongue. The brain is also “hard-wired” to create arts. Cave paintings, musical instruments, carvings, and depictions of dance and drama exist from as far back as 45,000 years ago – long before the written word brought us from the prehistoric to the historic era (Mithen, 1996; Pfeiffer, 1982). Our ancestors didn’t go to school to learn how to paint, sing, draw, or dance – they just did it! Even today, the arts begin to be naturally expressed at early ages: at 2 and 3 children draw, dance, sing, and participate in dramatic play without any formal instruction. However, to begin to learn how to read and write, we need formal instruction. Those abilities are not hard-wired into our brain.

This tells me that the arts are a natural part of our human heritage – a basic, intrinsic aspect of our biology that we should be willing to employ in our own behalf.

References:

Cozolino, L. (2002). The neuroscience of psychotherapy. NY: W.W. Norton.

Damasio, A. (1994). Descartes’ error: Emotion, reason and the human brain. NY: Avon.

Damasio, A. (1999). The feeling of what happens. NY: Harcourt.

Gallese, V., Keysers, C., & Rizzolatti, G. A unifying view of the basis of social cognition. TRENDS in Cognitive Sciences. 8 (9), Sept. 2004, 396-403, downloaded 1/23/2006 at www.sciencedirect.com.

Goleman, D. (1995). Emotional intelligence: How it can matter more than IQ. NY: Bantam Books.

Goleman, D. (2006). Social intelligence: The new science of human relations. NY: Bantam Books.

Hagendoorn, I. (2003). The dancing brain. Cerebrum. 5(2), 19-34.

Iacoboni, M., Molnar-Szakacs, I., Gallese, V., Buccino, G., Mazziotta, J. C., & Rizzolatti, G. (March 2005). Grasping the intentions of others with one’s own mirror neuron system. PLoS Biology 3(3), 0529-0534. Downloaded 1/23/2006 from www.plosboiology.org.

LeDoux, J. (1998). The emotional brain: The mysterious underpinnings of emotional life. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson.

Mithen, S. (1996). The prehistory of the mind: The cognitive origins of art, religion and science. London: Thames and Hudson, Ltd.

Pfeiffer, J.E. (1982). The creative explosion: An inquiry into the origins of art and religion. NY: Harper & Row.

Pinker, S. (1994). The language instinct: How the mind creates language. NY: William Morrow and Company.

Siegel, D. J. (1999). The developing mind: How relationships and the brain interact to shape who we are. NY: Guilford Press.

Van der Kolk, B. A. (2003). In terror’s grip: Healing the ravages of trauma. Cerebrum. 4(1), 34-50.

Self-Advocacy Through Drama for People with Developmental Disabilities

Suppose you were 35 years old and you still lived at home with your parents because they didn’t think you were capable of living by yourself? Or that you had to live in a group home with people you didn’t choose as your housemates and staff you didn’t hire to run the household? Suppose everyone talked down to you as if you were a little child? Or that you worked a 40 hours a week, and only got paid $45 for your entire week of work? What if you weren’t allowed to get married, even though you were in love with someone who wanted to marry you?

Sound impossible in this day and age? It’s not. There are many people in our country, close to 12.4 million, who experience one or a combination of these limiting life situations because they have a physical, mental or emotional condition causing difficulty in learning, remembering, or concentration (U.S. Census, 2000). Some of these citizens have physical or mental illnesses which affect cognition, and many have developmental disabilities, such as mental retardation, autism, cerebral palsy or another neurological condition. (The U.S. Census does not breakdown disability population figures by diagnosis, but by the following categories: sensory disability involving sight or hearing; condition limiting basic physical activities, such as walking, climbing stairs, etc.; physical, mental, or emotional condition causing difficulty in learning, remembering, or concentrating; physical, mental, or emotional condition causing difficulty in activities of daily living such as dressing, bathing, etc; condition that makes it difficult to go outside the home; and condition that affects the ability to work at a job.)

People who have developmental disabilities are not encouraged to live independent lives, even when many of them can. There are many reasons for this: overprotective families; an educational and social service industry that steers clients to be dependent and passive, rather than training them for independence; a social welfare system with built-in work disincentives for people with disabilities; a society that stigmatizes people who have disabilities as “less than equal” to those who don’t have disabilities (Mackelprang & Salsgiver, 1999; Olkin, 1999).

One of the hardest struggles is that last one — against stigmas held cross-culturally about developmental disabilities. Individuals who are “different,” be they of a different race, religion, physical look, or ability level, end up being stigmatized or seen as having a lower, discredited status, being “not quite human,” by the dominant cultural group in any society (Goffman, 1963; Hardaway, 1991). Developmental disabilities are repeatedly rated as one of the most stigmatized on the continuum of possible disabling and/or medical conditions across a wide range of world cultures (Olkin, 1999;Westbrook, Legge, & Pennay, 1993).

In order to address the prevalence of stigma towards disabilities and the necessity of future mental health and education professionals to become aware of and deal with their own stigmatizing attitudes, I have had students in my Drama Therapy with Special Populations class at Kansas State University rate Westbook, Legge, & Pennay’s list of 20 disabilities from least stigmatized to most stigmatized for the past twenty-four semesters (Fall 1999 to Spring 2011). Each semester mental retardation (the closest category on the list to “developmental disabilities”) is in the top three most stigmatized conditions as either number one, two, or three. The only conditions that are ever rated as more stigmatized are AIDS or mental illness. When they compare their class rating with the cultures surveyed in Westbook, Legge & Pennay’s study, my students discover that those cultures also rated those three conditions in their “top” three.

If attitude sampling is not proof enough of the stigma assigned to people with developmental disabilities in our culture, a simple statistic reported in the Kansas City Star says it all. Prenatal genetic tests can determine if a fetus has Down syndrome, a type of developmental disability caused by a chromosomal abnormality. People who have Down syndrome have three copies of Chromosome 21, rather than 2, giving them 47 total chromosomes instead of 46. Down syndrome is not a fatal or painful condition, although there are sometimes medical complications, such as heart conditions. Individuals who have Down syndrome can range in IQ from low to normal. When the prenatal test became common in 1989, 57 percent of fetuses discovered to have Down syndrome were aborted, and since then the percentage has risen (Bell & Stoneman, 2000; Stearns, 2004). Currently, it is estimated that ninety percent of the fetuses determined by prenatal test to have Down syndrome are terminated through abortion (Adler, 2005).

Not only are stigmatized people not accorded the same status as others, seen as inferior, evil, perhaps being punished for their sins or the sins of their fathers (Hardaway, 1991; Pelka, 1994), or as “defective” by medical model standards, many grow up to believe that those who have stigmatized them must be right and internalize a sense of shame and inferiority. Like many oppressed populations, they often become passive and helpless, because they don’t think they deserve better treatment than what they are currently receiving (Goffman, 1963; Mackelprang & Salsgiver, 1999).

Here are a few stories I collected in 1998 from members of STAND Together, a self-advocacy group for adults with developmental disabilities in the Washington, DC Metropolitan area, which illustrate common, every day examples of stigmatizing behavior they have received, in these cases from family members, care-givers, and helping professionals in their lives:

LG: When I was between the ages of 17 and 21, I went to live with my older brother and I was treated as a child and it was totally wrong to do that to me at that age. At that point, it wasn’t right, but I didn’t do anything about it. I didn’t like it, but just took it. I finally just moved away. It feels great to be treated like an adult instead of a child. It’s wrong to treat an adult with a disability like a child. An adult should be treated like an adult. A teenager should be treated like a teenager. A child should be treated like a child.

BH: Sometimes the counselor comes into my apartment to talk to me when I’m having dinner [and wants to meet about life skills and work issues]. I say, “Excuse me, I’m eating.” That’s ignoring my privacy.

MP: I want to tell you about staff who disrespected me at the place I worked, so you won’t ever treat anyone who you work with this way. [The workplace was a sheltered workshop/training center for people with disabilities.] At one point I was in Beginner’s Clerical. I was not feeling good one day and I called in like you would normally do when you’re not feeling good. They asked me to call back later. I did and I said that I still wasn’t feeling good. But my supervisor, she didn’t take no for an answer. She wanted me to come in to work. [MP went back to sleep after hanging up the phone.] I wake up and I’ve got the program specialist on one side of me and the supervisor on the other side of me wanting me to come to work! So to make a long story short on that one – that’s why I’m still afraid to get a job out in the community. I’m afraid someone’s going to come and drag me out of bed and take me back to work!

These three individuals, quoted above, have not remained passive and accepting of the stigmatized way they are treated. As members of STAND Together, one of the oldest self advocacy groups in the state of Maryland, they have learned how to speak up for themselves, protest ill-treatment, and work on changing attitudes and removing barriers to their full inclusion in their community. We’ll talk about their experiences with drama as a tool in their struggle later in the article.

Historically, nondisabled members of society have assumed that people who have disabilities are not able to care for or support themselves. Poorhouses were created in colonial America as a place to warehouse anyone from widows, orphans, or the elderly to people with mental illness, disability, or serious illness (Trattner, 1989). Until recent years people with disabilities, particularly those with developmental disabilities, were committed to institutions for the “mentally deficient.” Doctors would often recommend to families at the birth of a child with disabilities to not even take the child home, but to “send it away” (J. Glenner, personal communication, 1990; Makelprang & Salsgiver, 1999; Morton, 1983). For those who weren’t institutionalized, educational opportunities and jobs were not easy to get.

The terminology chosen to describe this group of citizens (as well as people with physical disabilities) suggests that they are incompetent. Hardaway says it is important to know that the word “handicapped” originated from the phrase “cap in hand,” indicating someone who is a beggar. Begging was one of the only ways that people not segregated in institutions who had disabilities were able to make a living when they couldn’t get a job (Hardaway, 1991). Employers assumed that people who had disabilities couldn’t do the work and often wouldn’t consider them as potential employees.

What does the word “disable” actually mean? According to Webster, disable means “1. to deprive of legal right or qualification: disqualify. 2. to make incapable or ineffective: to incapacitate, especially to deprive of physical, moral or intellectual strength. 3. a. to deprive of what gives value: impair in worth. b. to declare incompetent or invalid.” Impaired, another word sometimes used in place of disabled, means “to make worse, diminish in quality, value, excellence or strength: to do harm to.” (Webster’s Third New International Dictionary of the English Language Unabridged, 1993). None of these words sound very positive used as either a noun to categorize someone or an adjective to describe him. No one wants to be considered an ineffective, incapable, diminished, or invalid human being, especially when the disability condition one has usually only limits one small aspect of one’s life; however, that is what our language suggests happens.

The disability awareness movement which began in the 1960’s helped pass legislation, such as the Rehabilitation Act of 1973, the Equal Education for All Handicapped Children Act of 1975 and the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990. These laws have helped create more opportunities in education, employment, housing, and access to the community at large for people with disabilities. In the late ‘60s and early 70’s disability advocates and social service workers brought suit in the courts to close state hospitals and release the residents to out-patient services in the community. This, plus spiraling medical costs, caused many institutions in which people had been warehoused to be closed, sending them back in the community to live and work (Anderson, Lakin, Manga, & Prouty, 1998; Mackelprang & Salsgiver, 1999).

However, just because opportunities for independence exist, doesn’t mean the people those opportunities were created for know how to access them or how to succeed once they get them. Statistics have shown that people with disabilities make responsible, hard working, reliable employees. However, statistics also show that a number of employees with disabilities lose their jobs, not because they can not do the tasks required, but because they do not have the social skills to fit into the workplace appropriately (Chadsey-Rusch, Linneman, & Rylance, 1997; J. Gingerich, personal communication, August 17, 1999; Park & Gaylord-Ross, 1989).

Others do not have the self-confidence to go after an educational or employment opportunity in the first place. There are a variety of reasons for this: they might not know how to be assertive; they might not have the support and encouragement they need from significant others; they might see barriers (legal or illegal) in the way that they do not know how to get around. In short, they have problems advocating for themselves.

Here is where drama comes into the picture: drama is the perfect vehicle for teaching assertiveness, problem-solving, and self-advocacy skills and for demonstrating and articulating one’s abilities, opinions, and desires to others. Through acting out a situation in role play, participants can learn how to identify problems, try out different solutions, and practice the solutions they think will work best. They can develop the self-esteem and confidence to believe they can be effective and succeed. Even more important, they can develop the social skills to get their questions answered, their needs met, and their day-to-day on-the-job or in-the-community conflicts worked through in appropriate ways. (Bailey, 1993, 1995; Sternberg & Garcia, 1994).

Why is drama so perfect? It is embodied, experiential, and active. Many people with developmental disabilities have difficulty learning abstract concepts through lecture and other abstract teaching techniques. Many learn better through hands-on, concrete, physical activities. In addition, drama incorporates narrative or story into instruction. Information is easier to remember when linked by narrative than when it is simply memorized by itself as individual facts (Cozolino, 2002; Herman, 2003).  Information is also easier to remember when it is paired with emotions, particularly positive emotions or emotions that are meaningfully appropriate to the material (Jensen, 1998). Drama contains all of those qualities: embodied, experiential, active, concrete, hands-on, narrative, connected to emotions, with the added attraction of being FUN, so that the learning process is interesting and easy to pay attention to! (Bailey, 1993, 1995, 2010).

Young people with developmental disabilities may not understand the subtleties of social situations. Nondisabled children usually pick up many of the social cues and cultural constructs around them through observing interactions of adults and older children, repeatedly seeing the consequences of certain actions (Hall, 1976). Some children with developmental disabilities miss out on these cues and constructs. They might not notice nonverbal behaviors for a variety reasons, including attention deficits, attention overloads, or aural or visual processing difficulties. They might have difficulty with sequencing and, therefore, do not understand the relationship between an action that causes a particular consequence. Having missed observing the behavior in the first place, chances are they probably will not understand theoretical presentations about it. They may not have been given the opportunities to practice appropriate ways to interact socially because no one thought they were capable of learning them and, therefore, never reinforced appropriate behavior.These children need active instruction and practice in order to see, understand, and learn (Bailey, 1993, 2010).

When is the best time to start using drama to train students in social skills and assertiveness? When children are young and in school! Cindy Bowen, a registered drama therapist and transition specialist at Ivymount School, an independent school for multiply handicapped students in Rockville, Maryland, began using drama as a behavior management tool while she was a support counselor in charge of handling discipline problems. She found that when students had negative behaviors in class or on the playground, it was usually because they did not have the words to express their feelings or alternative ways to solve the situation that was frustrating them. She would take them to her office and get them to cool down. Then she would talk to them about what happened and what other options they might have used for dealing with the situation. Once they were able to identify these, she would have them act out the appropriate behavior until they felt they understood it and could use it successfully. Last, she would take them back to the classroom and let them practice the new behavior with the teacher (out in the hallway, not in front of the rest of the class), so that the teacher knew what solutions had been developed and could help reinforce them when the student tried them out instead of reinforcing the old negative behavior.

Cindy realized that this was the beginning of self-advocacy for these children and that its development was crucial to their success, not just in school, but in life. Since her experience as support counselor had proven to her the efficacy of drama as the way to “get through” to students on issues of behavior, she incorporated drama into all her later transition planning work.

In the U.S. students in special education are allowed to stay in school until they are 21. Their educational needs are guided by an Individual Education Plan (IEP) which is devised jointly by their teachers, parents, and, ideally, themselves. The IEP is re-evaluated at least once a year and new goals incorporated into it. As they get older, an Individual Transition Plan (ITP) is included to help them make that major transition from school to work. Cindy saw the IEP/ITP meeting as a place where self-advocacy was needed – allowing both the parents and the student to speak up for their wishes for the future. Did they want to have a specific kind of job? Did they want to live at home, in a group home, or independently in their own apartment? What were the steps that needed to be taken in order to finally achieve those goals? She helped students develop and practice a script so that they could communicate their wishes and desires to their parents and teachers.

Sometimes parents needed skills to work with a child who had unrealistic dreams. For instance, many teenaged boys express a desire to be a professional basketball player.Needless to say, this is not a realistic goal for 99 percent of them, disabled or not! The key to working with this desire, however, is not to discourage the student from having dreams, but to get them to identify what interests they have, what skills they have, what skills they can develop, and from there to think realistically about what kind of job they could get.Cindy found she needed to teach the parents – and did so most effectively through role-play – how to interact with their children about this topic. They practiced how to ask questions to elicit useful information from their child instead of shutting him down by saying, “No, you can’t do that” or “You’ll never be able to do that.”

Job skills from interviewing to personal hygiene to interacting with co-workers could be practiced in Transition Class through drama. Many students not only had difficulty finding words to express themselves, but also in understanding non-verbal cues that others were giving them. To address this, Cindy would set up dramatic situations in which they would practice identifying these through role play. For instance, she might act out different kinds of bosses who might be interviewing students for a job; she might act formal and polite, condescending, or rushed and impatient. A student would interview with her for the job and then have to assess with the rest of the class what she wanted the worker to do in the job and what kind of nonverbal information she was expressing during the interview which might indicate what kind of a boss she might be to work for.

One transition group, called “Express Yourself,” showcased the older students in dramatic presentations as they demonstrated behavior options to the younger students in order to teach social skills through action. “Express Yourself” students would brainstorm different difficult aspects of relationship communication: friend with friend, child with parent, student with teacher, employer with boss. From these, improvisational scenes were created – with both negative and positive behavior choices – and acted out for other classrooms.Cindy would facilitate and lead a discussion. The students watching would respond to what they thought was going on in the scene. Were the actors using a positive way of handling the situation or a negative one? What were some other ways it could be done? Through drama the younger students were able to pick up on the correct behaviors and generalize them to other situations. They would often use some of the words and behaviors they saw enacted in the scenes in their real life situations. They would ask Cindy, “Did I handle this like so-and-so handled it in the play?”

Presenting “Express Yourself” skits served as a wonderful self-esteem builder for the student-actors. They were suddenly “teacher for the day” and were able to share what they had learned with others. Another outgrowth was the “Express Yourself” students became positive role models and mentors for the younger students. Many younger children had never been exposed to the idea of being able to grow up and get a job. Suddenly they realized that “Hey, this older kid has a transition plan. He’s getting a job. I can do that, too!” (C. Bowen, personal communication, January 22, 2005).

Much of my work with young adults with developmental disabilities also took place in suburban Maryland. In my role as Arts Access Director at the Bethesda Academy of Performing Arts (now Imagination Stage), I created programming for children, teens, and adults with a wide variety of disabilities. One acting class, called “Act For Yourself,” was geared along the same lines as the Ivymount “Express Yourself” class, providing practice for young adults with developmental disabilities in assertiveness and social skills. We acted out situations they found difficult in their lives and explored who they were, what they wanted, and how to get their needs met in active, appropriate ways. We also explored how to stay safe in situations in which others might harm them, how to handle anger, and how to behave appropriately in dating situations. “Act For Yourself” was so popular and useful that I was invited to teach it for Montgomery College’s Challenge Program, a division developed to give students with disabilities who had graduated from high school pre-college level experiences on a real college campus.

My favorite experience using drama for social action was with STAND Together in 1998. STAND Together was sponsored by The ARC of Montgomery County (ARC was formerly an acronym for Association for Retarded Citizens, but has formally changed its name to be simply The ARC). They had heard about my drama program from enthusiastic participants and saw a creative, dynamic, and active way to raise staff awareness on privacy issues and basic human rights of residents in their group homes. Twice a month an orientation training (Introduction to Developmental Disabilities) was held for new staff members to address basic information about The ARC’s group homes, developmental disabilities, emergency procedures, health and hygiene and human rights of residents. Trainings had always been done via lecture and handouts. The information was communicated, but most trainees did not really understand the priority The ARC wanted given to respecting the residents as adults with individual needs and preferences. Often in the interests of time and efficiency or out of ignorance, staff would ignore residents’ choices, break confidentiality, or invade their privacy. This problem was exacerbated by the issue of frequent turnover of staff which is a common problem in all areas of the direct support profession serving people with disabilities (Larson, S.A., Hewitt, A.S. & Lakin, K.C., 2004). STAND Together wanted to create a role-play presentation to illustrate ways to handle privacy issues, so that respect and appropriate boundaries could be demonstrated clearly to staff.

My first step in approaching this project was two-pronged. I wanted to let the STAND members train me in what they felt were the most important issues to address – they, after all, were the authorities – and we all needed to know what the law said about current legal standards of individual rights, the procedures for compliance, grievance rights, and what to do in case of violation. We began by looking at the Health-General Article 7-1001 and 7-1002 from the Annotated Code of Maryland COMAR 10.22.07. Then we brainstormed their list of personal and privacy rights.

Identification and articulation are the first steps in self-assertion. Creating an atmosphere of trust and acceptance in which participants can speak honestly and openly about their experience and their pain was paramount. As the group shouted out ideas, I wrote down all suggestions in magic marker on large pieces of paper taped to the wall. I knew all ideas would not end up in the final presentation, but all needed to be acknowledged as part of the pot of material we would pull from. Even though some members of the group could not read, my act of writing down their ideas validated them and communicated the clear message that I respected them and took them seriously. (This list of rights is included at the end of the article.)

The next step was to collect personal stories related to the violation of these rights and to generate ideas of how these negative situations could have been dealt with more kindly, respectfully, and effectively. These stories were then shaped into fictional dramatic situations which we improvised. None of the scenes that ended up in our repertoire for the training were historical re-enactments of anyone’s real-life experiences. On one level this preserved confidentiality, but on another it freed the actors to try out alternative solutions to the conflict instead of sidetracking them into a re-creation of the way events had actually transpired. We could also exaggerate a little to make a point without being untruthful. The purpose of the scenes was, after all, to help create systemic change in the attitude and behavior of employees of an organization, not for the personal therapy of STAND members.

For each scene, we came up with the “wrong” way and a “better” way to handle the situation. The scenes were kept improvisational at all times, so the parts could be taken on by different volunteers. Here’s what one of the situations might have looked like if scripted:

JULIENNE, a staff member at a group home for adults with developmental disabilities, enters the living room and sees a stack of mail on the dining room table. She walks over, leafs through the pile, picks up an envelope, opens it, and takes out a letter and form. Then she gets a pen from the desk, comes back to the table and begins filling out the form, leaving the opened envelope on the table.

EVA, one of the residents, enters the living room and looks through the stack of mail. She sees the opened envelope, which has her name and address on it. She turns to JULIENNE with the envelope in her hand and says, “Who opened my letter?”

JULIENNE: (nonchalantly) Oh, I did.

EVA: Why? My name is on the envelope! See, right here it says, “Eva Jones.”

JULIENNE: I could tell it was that form from the SSI office and I knew you’d need help filling it out, so I opened it for you.

EVA: But it belongs to me. You shouldn’t have opened it.

JULIENNE: It doesn’t matter.

EVA: Yes, it does! It was for me!

JULIENNE: I knew what was in it.

EVA: But what if you didn’t? What if it was something else?

JULIENNE: Well, it wasn’t something else. It was the re-application form.

EVA: It’s my private letter!

JULIENNE: I’m only trying to help!

EVA: But you shouldn’t have opened it! Even my mother knows not to open my mail!

JULIENNE: (throwing the letter at EVA): FINE! Do it yourself!

This scene illustrates behavior a group home staff person might consider “helpful,” but which residents would consider condescending and an invasion of privacy. It was, of course, followed by a replay in which Julienne let Eva open her own letter, asked if it was the form they had been waiting for from SSI, and allowed Eva to ask for help.

A step above and beyond using drama to advocate for yourself and for others is teaching others how to advocate for themselves. In essence, passing on the power. After all, as the old proverb says, “If you give a man a fish, he eats for a day. If you teach a man to fish, he eats for a lifetime.” Deborah J. Zuver, a registered drama therapist in North Carolina, is doing just that through self-advocacy projects she directs through the University of North Carolina Clinical Center for the Study of Development and Learning. The U.S. Administration for Children and Families has designated this site as the University Center for Excellence in Developmental Disabilities in North Carolina.

Deborah has developed a self advocacy training curriculum called Acting for Advocacy (A4A) which is part of Project STIR (Steps Toward Independence and Responsibility).This program explores topics such as Knowing Self, Communicating Effectively, Problem-Solving, Rights and Responsibilities, and Self Advocacy and Self Determination with young adults who have developmental disabilities in the state. Next Generation Acting for Advocacy, an outgrowth of A4A funded by the U.S. Administration on Developmental Disabilities (ADD), targets high school students who are making that important transition from school to work. Through workshops conducted in the schools, students learn those all-important social skills that will help them get a job and then keep it.

Shifting the Power is another program that has developed from A4A and has been funded through ADD. The whole point of Shifting the Power is passing on self-advocacy skills to others in nearby states. The North Carolina training team works with local participants who have developmental disabilities in weeklong training sessions to develop self-advocacy skills. By the end of the residency the North Carolina team has helped the newly trained advocates create a concrete, visual action plan to follow in order to incorporate more self-advocacy into their organization and begin addressing local, regional, and state disability issues.

The A4A advocacy training team consists of 4 trainers, half who have developmental disabilities themselves. They present their information primarily through dramatic enactments. First, they show planned improvised scenes (the lines are not memorized, but the actors have practiced the scenario and know where they are headed with the situation). Then Deborah, as the facilitator, will freeze the scene and engage the audience in a discussion about what happened. Sometimes the actors replay the scene based on audience suggestions. Sometimes audience members are invited up on stage to try out a new solution or re-enact one that they’ve just seen demonstrated.

Deborah says, “This kind of approach is different from trainings in which someone stands up and lectures about skills and then has the students passively listen or imitate.They can try out the skills themselves. Also, watching the enactments is like listening to a story. The information is put into context as well as action. The information is modeled by peers with developmental disabilities which makes it more real and more realistic.” (D.J. Zuver, personal communication, January 5, 2005).

In addition to using her trainers who have disabilities as actors, Deborah involves them in leading the group discussions. She has them present the power point slides which provide visual illustrations to concepts in the training. They also are able to share their personal successes, if they choose. One of the trainers is very proud of the fact that she is the first self-advocate she knows who has bought her own condo and drives her own car! This makes the trainers very viable role models and adds power and validity to the message they bring.

Deborah stresses the importance of including an emotional component in this kind of advocacy training. She says that it is often left out of many social skills and self advocacy trainings. “It’s almost like professionals think members of the DD population can’t handle their emotions, but many can. They just need practice and the opportunity and the support!” She goes on to say, “Brain research shows that emotion and memory are linked. And drama allows emotions to be expressed in a clear, contained manner.” When participants are allowed to explore their ideas and feelings in a safe environment, “They can have insights and come to new understandings.” In fact, Deborah says her favorite moments in workshops are when she “sees the ‘light bulbs’ going off over peoples’ heads when they are understanding a concept for the first time or realizing that they are capable of something that they didn’t think they could do before.” (D.J. Zuver, personal communication, January 5, 2005).

Each of these examples of drama cited above acknowledge Paolo Freire’s pedagogical philosophy of starting with the student, as well as the theatrical spirit, if not the specific methods of Augusto Boal who believed in incorporating the audience as “spectactors” into the exploration of ideas theatrically. As an oppressed minority, people with developmental disabilities lack confidence in themselves. They have been “domesticated” into being passive, dehumanized, and marginalized by the “non-disabled” members of the culture. Instead of lecturing at them and keeping them in the one-down position, through drama we can join them and dialogue with them, raising their awareness and self-esteem, providing them with the skills to break their chains of oppression, so they can see themselves as “normal,” equal, respected citizens in our community, and, as a result, take on those roles. This, then, becomes a real win-win situation. When they begin to have power over their lives, they can contribute to the diversity and strength of the community at large. The community can only be enriched when more of its members are active participants rather than passive “burdens.”

List of Privacy Rights Generated By STAND Together Members, 1998

I have a right to:

  • Choose my own activities.
  • Choose my own job.
  • Choose my own friends.
  • Make my own decisions about purchases.
  • Make my own decisions about life choices and personal style, such as hair cut, clothes and jewelry to wear.
  • Take appropriate medication that helps me function well, but doesn’t over-medicate me.
  • Ask for help and accommodations if I need them.
  • Be accepted for who I am/for myself.
  • Have my parents “let go” and allow me to grow up and become independent.
  • Speak for myself and not have other people speak for me.
  • Be talked to at my level so I can understand and to be able to ask questions without being treated impatiently or as if I’m “stupid.”
  • Be talked to as an adult, and not condescended to or talked to like I’m a baby.
  • Have people talk directly to me and not to a family member or staff person who is with me as if I wasn’t there!
  • Have my confidential information stay confidential.
  • Be disciplined by staff in private, not in front of everyone else.
  • Have privacy on the phone.
  • Not have my mail opened by staff or anyone else.
  • Have my personal space and personal living quarters respected.
  • No one should enter my room without knocking and asking permission.
  • No one should come into my room while I’m not there and rearrange things or change things without asking.
  • Have a private sex life.

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Non-Fiction Theatre: Giving the Community a Voice

At Kansas State University non-fiction playwriting has been a topic of study in the graduate playwriting course which I teach each year. As area residents and K-State students are sources of many of the interviews, the plays that come out of the class often reflect issues and concerns of the local Manhattan, Kansas community. In the 2006-2007 academic year, three of these plays were produced to create dialogue about their respective subjects on and off campus. This article explores the process the playwright-directors used and the ethical and artistic issues that arose in pursuit of the process.

The History of Non-Fiction Playwriting

Non-fiction drama, plays based on a true story, is by no means new. The Capture of Miletus, written about the Persian War by Phrynicus in 492 BC, could be said to be the earliest example (Attilio Favorini, 1995). Other examples can be found in European medieval mystery plays, Shakespearean histories, French revolutionary dramas, the improvisational Living Newspaper of Jacob Moreno in 1920 Vienna (Blatner, 2000), and the Living Newspaper plays of the Federal Theatre Project during the Depression. Some of these plays were based on reportage of historical events by the playwrights, some were created by acting companies through improvisation.  Non-fiction playwriting, as it has been practiced in the U.S. since the 1970’s, has focused on preserving and reenacting the words of actual people about historical events. This style of non-fiction performance gives voice to unheard groups in our society, encourages empathy, and, when done well, allows a dramatic situation to be presented in its complexity.

Non-fiction plays are created directly from primary sources: interviews with individuals, excerpts from letters and writings, transcripts of court testimony and other written records – even video clips – creating a performed experience that has a directness and feel of truth that reaches out from the actual individual who experienced the event, through the intermediary of the actor, across the stage into the hearts and minds of the audience. The playwright serves primarily, not as the creator, but as collector and editor of the story, in essence holding up a mirror to the subjects to reflect the story rather than invent it.

This new form of non-fiction in the theatre was inspired by four movements. Avant-garde theatre in the 60’s and early 70’s as performed by the Open Theatre, the Living Theatre, the Performance Group, and others opened American theatre artists to experimentation with traditional forms. Their de-constructing of theatre texts and literary works provided a space for exploring new options to structuring plays. The oral history movement, focused on collecting the words of ordinary people – as opposed to that of leaders and policy makers — also gained steam in the 60’s. Stories of Holocaust survivors, suffragettes, war veterans, and others who had lived through historical events were recorded on audiotape and film, and transcribed into books. Simultaneously, storytelling as an art form began a renaissance spearheaded by the creation of the National Storytelling Festival in 1973. The growth in popularity of the documentary film in the 80’s and 90’s generated even more of an interest in the real stories of real people. The non-fiction play emerged in the late 70’s and married the exciting theatrical elements of performance and storytelling with actual testimony from real people.

One of the first contemporary playwrights to bring the testimony of individuals directly onto the stage was Emily Mann. Annulla Allen: Autobiography of a Survivor, a full length monologue, premiered at the Guthrie Theatre in Minneapolis in 1977. She followed this in 1980 with Still Life, a full length play juxtaposing monologues of a Vietnam vet, his wife, and a female friend, and in 1984 by Execution of Justice, a docudrama based on the 1978 assassination of George Moscone and Harvey Milk. She has since written two others: Greensboro: A Requiem and the adaptation of the Delaney sisters’ joint autobiography Having Our Say, both in 1995.

Mann says about her approach to non-fiction works:

I like having to deal with the facts of the case. I couldn’t make up who the Klan and the Nazis are [in writing Greensboro: A Requiem]. I had to look the real devil in the face and say, ‘Who are you?’ I felt that if I could make this story powerful onstage – and that can be very hard because sometimes real life is not as theatrically exciting as what you can write – if I could distill and juxtapose and theatricalize this story well enough, the impact would in the end be stronger than if I’d made it up. (Mann, 2006).

Anna Deavere Smith entered the world of non-fiction playwriting through what she calls her search for the American character. She portrays all the characters – male and female – in her plays in one woman performances. One of the strengths of her plays is her inclusion of people who have many differing viewpoints on the event being explored, creating a Rashomon-like style which reveals the complexity of the situation. Unlike many writers of fictional social action drama, she firmly positions herself as “looking at the humanness inside the problems or the crises” rather than judging the people she portrays (Deavere Smith, 1997).

Deavere Smith says that to her, “the most important doorway into the soul of a person is her or his words…I am a student of words” (Deavere Smith, 2000). She focuses on staying true to the words, pauses, ums, ahs, and syntax of the people she interviews and performs. “I think it’s about finding that moment when syntax changes, when grammar breaks down…So the idea is that the psychology of people is going to live right inside those moments when their grammar falls apart and like being in a shipwreck, they are on their own to make it all work out” (Smith, 2000, p. 53).

Non-fiction theatre came to wide popularity with the work of Moises Kaufman and the Tectonic Theatre Company. Gross Indecency: The Three Trials of Oscar Wilde, produced in 1997, used writings by Oscar Wilde, transcripts from his trials, texts from contemporary accounts, and excerpts from biographies to dramatize what was considered in 1895 to be “the trial of the century.”

Searching for a new project to continue addressing gay and lesbian concerns, Kaufman and his company undertook a play about the murder of Mathew Shepard in Laramie, Wyoming. In November 1998, only four weeks after the murder, nine company members traveled to Laramie to interview community members about their experiences and thoughts about the murder. Over the course of a year and a half the writers returned six times and conducted over 200 interviews. Mathew Shepherd, who was not alive and could not be interviewed, is not included as a character in the play. Instead The Laramie Project is a portrait of the community and how all segments came to terms in their various ways with the crime and the trial of the murderers. In the course of the production, actors become multiple characters – playing Tectonic Theatre Company members as well as the people of Laramie.

Some non-fiction plays inspire social change. In 2000 Jessica Blank and Erik Jensen interviewed people who had been wrongfully convicted of murder and sentenced to death row, only to later be exonerated. The original 20 stories were narrowed down to those of six individuals. Additional research was done on court records and other documents. The Exonerated ran for 600 performances off-Broadway and performed in Chicago for the Center for Wrongful Convictions at Northwestern University. There the audience included Illinois Governor George Ryan, members of the state legislature, and almost 50 exonerated death row inmates. The play was able “to raise questions not just on a political level, but on a human level” (Blank & Jensen, 2005). Several weeks after the performance Governor Ryan commuted the death sentences of all 167 death row inmates to life in prison.

One last example – The Guys – illustrates how non-fiction plays can become a vehicle for community healing. Anne Nelson, a journalism professor at Columbia University, helped a grief-stricken fire captain write eulogies for his men who were killed in the World Trade Center collapse on 9/11. As she listened and empathized, the stories of these men’s lives and deaths became part of her story. She was asked by Jim Simpson, the artistic director of a small theatre located several blocks from the Twin Towers, to re-structure the eulogies and her experience of writing them into a play. The Guys opened twelve weeks after the attack in that small theatre and allowed the community to come together to hear their stories of loss spoken out loud, providing healing and connection.

The Process of Non-Fiction Playwriting

To create a non-fiction play the playwright chooses an event or an issue that offers dramatic possibilities – often there are many sides to the story or a variety of experiences to relate.Potential interviewees are asked to sign a release that explains the project and obtains informed consent for their words to be recorded and used in some form (usually edited) in the resulting dramatic work. Interviewees may be offered anonymity through change of name and identifying details.

Interviews must be done with great respect and openness or the interviewee won’t be candid and forthcoming. Non-fiction playwrights like Emily Mann, Eve Ensler, and Anna Deavere Smith describe their interview process as being about listening: not to hear a particular truth, but to hear the truth as each interviewee experiences it and as they uniquely express it.If interview subjects feel judged or manipulated in any way, they will not feel safe enough to share their stories. Anna Deavere Smith speaks of the necessity of curiosity when approaching interviews (Smith, 1997). She says, “If I go to the interview knowing what the answer is, I’m gonna miss it.” (Smith, 2006).

Susan Geiger, an oral historian, asserts that a researcher must seek to understand, rather than control her subject. She must also keep herself, as interviewer, out of the interview as much as possible so as not to interfere with the storyteller’s testimony.

All too frequently, questions that presume or identify the marginality of an oral historian or the place from which she speaks do not situate the narrator and her world; rather, such questions expose the researcher’s preconceived notion of the narrator’s world and of her own centrality. (Geiger, 2003).

Once interviews are completed, they are transcribed verbatim. Transcription is in many ways similar to the listening process. It is a way of listening again – at a slower, deeper pace. The playwright becomes physically connected with the subject through typing or writing his words. While copying all the grammatical mistakes, incomplete thoughts, tangents, and “ums,” the playwright is tempted to skip over parts or clean it up, but those tangents and incomplete thoughts are the strings that hold the interviewee’s memories together and reveal the struggle of putting the experience into words. Some of that struggle will need to remain so the resulting character does not appear glib to the audience. Often moments of struggle occur when humor or deep emotion break through or when the person achieves a new insight into what happened.

The words create the reality of the human situation and also define the speaker as a unique person and, in the play, as their character. Moreover, playwrights Jessica Blank and Erik Jensen, authors of The Exonerated, realized that when they kept in natural speech, it positively impacted their actors’ abilities to find the characters in rehearsal.

…the actors started to “channel” the real people whose words they were reading. We purposely didn’t play audio of the interviews or screen the videotapes…The first couple of days we ascribed this phenomenon to chance. But as we saw it happen over and over…we realized it was coming from the words. As we watched the actors organically and unintentionally adapt whole personas just from reading someone’s sentences, we began to understand just how much our psychology is contained in our speech. The rhythms, the words we choose, the order we put them, the places we pause, stammer, change the subject – they reveal everything about us (Blank & Jensen, 2005).

If the writer stays true to the words of the interview, the character does not have to be “created,” he or she will naturally come to life on the pages of the script.

In many ways the non-fiction playwriting process resembles editing more than creative writing. Interviews are “boiled down” to their essence through judicious cutting which leaves the personality, flavor, and rhythm of the speaker. Then each speaker’s words are juxtapositioned with the others to build a dramatic structure that reflects all sides of the issue and follows a dramatic arch building in intensity from beginning to end. This is the point in the process where commitment to balance and the complexity of the conflict becomes important. The playwright of a non-fiction play has the ability to delete lines of dialogue that do not serve her political agenda or to add characters that voice her views. However, if the playwright succumbs to this temptation, the play can degenerate into propaganda and may not ring true.

A non-fiction play can not belong to the playwright alone. The interviewees entrust the playwright with their story, lending their experience in a sense, and the playwright needs to feel deeply obliged to reflect their truth first and foremost in all its diversity. This takes self-discipline, but it ultimately adds richness to the theatrical encounter.

…sometimes that’s easier to do well when the stories aren’t your own: your ego never has a chance to get involved and you’re free to focus on what the stories do and mean.The stories in our play were never ours. It was our job to get out of the way and let them come through. (Blank & Jensen, 2005).

The construction aspect is often like a giant artistic cut and paste session: first finding the themes and how they progress or change and then arranging them in a way that makes emotional sense. Sometimes short scenes can be dramatized from the stories that are told, illustrating the experience through action as well as testimony. At the end of the play answers to the dramatic questions may remain unanswered – often because they cannot finally be resolved – but a space has been created for the audience to feel with the characters and learn from their experiences.

Three Non-fiction Plays Come To Life

The Writing Process

Garretson, a graduate student in drama therapy at Kansas State University, set out to write a play about abortion in America – the human side, not the political side – by letting women who had had abortions tell their stories. As she says,

Forming the questions for Almost was a painstakingly delicate process. I became intensely protective of my interviewees before I ever spoke with them. The subject matter of Almost is not common to talk about; it is something that can go unspoken indefinitely in the lives of many women. Currently, a true conversation about abortion is essentially impossible; America has stopped listening. I wanted these women to realize that I was listening and that I was committed to getting a theatre full of people to listen as well.

When formulating the questions she would ask in her interviews, she did not want the interviewees to worry about being judged. She felt the best way to accomplish this was by finding the least number of questions that would elicit the story – questions that were open-ended and non-judgmental. Since the word “abortion” is a highly loaded term, she rarely used that word in interviews. If she referred to the abortion, she would say, “What do you remember about the day?” or “Tell me about the appointment.” After the interviewee referred to the abortion in the interview, she matched their terminology, leaving the definition of the experience up to the individual. In this way she could serve not just as a listener, but as a reflective container of the emotion of the experience. All of her interviews were conducted by phone, giving the women even more privacy.

Shannon’s release form explained not only the mechanics of her project, but assured that she was seeking only to dramatize the collected stories and would be crafting the play from a position of neutrality. Within her release she also guaranteed interviewees confidentiality and anytime identifying information was given during the interview, she checked with the woman to see how she wanted it presented.

Martha Crouse, another graduate student studying drama therapy, decided to explore the struggle young gay men of her acquaintance had in coming out (or not coming out) to their parents. She developed questions that were neutral, open-ended, and non-judgmental, while at the same time being tough enough to elicit personal information. She scheduled interviews in private, neutral locations and conducted all but one in person. Despite the personal nature of the material, she found that many of the men were eager to tell their stories and in doing so experienced a kind of release.

Jemmie Godwin, also a drama therapy graduate student, approached the coming out issue from the perspectives of parents. Common questions she asked included: When did you realize your child was gay? How do you feel about your child’s orientation? What would you say to a person who rejected their child? She was very surprised at the amount of personal information that was shared with her. Parents talked about their child trying to commit suicide and experiencing hate crimes, rape, and other issues she never expected to surface during an initial interview with a stranger. After each interview, parents would sigh in relief and say, “I have never talked about this,” or “No one has ever asked us about this.”

All three playwrights crafted their interviews into non-fiction plays for Workshop in Playwrighting, the graduate playwriting class. The first draft of each play was read aloud in class and then re-written based on criticism from the professor and class members. All of the playwrights shared their scripts with the individuals they had interviewed, who reported being very pleased with how their words had been used. The following academic year all three playwrights had the opportunity to become directors of their work and learned about some of the issues created when a non-fiction play is brought to life in the community from which it has sprung.

Directing the Plays

Both Martha and Jemmie had interviewed a number of members of the local chapter of PFLAG (Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays). One of them, Jason Lantz, was the current president, and saw both plays as a way to open a community dialogue on sexual orientation and other LBGTQ issues in a non-threatening way. He and Christopher Renner, another community activist, applied for and received grants from the Caroline Peine Foundation and the Kansas Equity Coalition. A small amount was reserved for production costs, but the majority of grant monies were put toward promotion of both plays, including radio and newspaper ads, posters, mailing over 3,000 palm cards to people in the area, and a letter to the editor campaign of The Manhattan Mercury, the local newspaper.

The First Congregational Church offered free rehearsal space in its basement, the first of many positive community connections made in the course of the productions. Space for performances was rented at the Manhattan Arts Center, the local community theatre, and arranged for at the K-State Student Union’s Little Theatre. Martha’s play about young gay men, If Truth Be Told, was produced twice in both spaces in October 2006 and Jemmie’s play, You Belong to Us, the stories of parent perspectives, performed four times in March 2007 at the community theatre.

Attendees at both plays were asked to fill out a questionnaire in order to gauge attitude change in response to the shows. Information about PFLAG, LBGTQ issues, and where to find help or more resources was made available in the lobby of the theatres. Each performance was followed by a panel discussion with audience members. The panels consisted of the actors, the director-playwright, members of PFLAG, mental health professionals who were LBGTQ allies, and local spokespersons for gay and lesbian rights. Members of the audience were moved by the stories they heard. Questions from individuals who were not gay or allied community members were asked in a respectful manner. Others who were LBGTQ or LBGTQ allies felt safe enough to respond by sharing their own stories, many which were similar to those enacted in the plays. A common opening statement was, “I’ve never told this to anyone before, but…”

In an unusual turn of events, PFLAG president Jason Lantz, who had been interviewed for If Truth Be Told, participated in the discussions and “came out” to the audience as one of the characters. In the panel discussions he proudly sat next to the actor who portrayed him in the play. Jason reported that having been interviewed gave him the courage to tell his parents about his sexual orientation and they had accepted his revelation supportively. He experienced the whole process as empowering and loved watching his story portrayed on stage.

Once interviewees realized that their stories were going to be brought to life on stage in their own community, there were a variety of reactions. A few expressed an interest in being cast as the character that had been based on their interview. Mel Pooler, one of the parent interviewees from You Belong to Us, wanted to play herself and did not want to remain anonymous. She had asked from the beginning that her character retain her real name. A PFLAG officer and activist, she saw this as an opportunity to be an advocate and to bear witness to the pain her son and other young men and women had suffered over the years due to discrimination and ignorance about homosexuality. Her desire was compounded by the fact that she had a terminal illness and wished to make a public statement at the end of her life. Jemmie and I discussed the wisdom of this, particularly considering Mel’s state of health at the time, and decided that as long as careful monitoring was done to keep her emotionally and physically safe, Mel’s wishes should be respected. Unfortunately, Mel ended up in the hospital from an opportunistic infection and had to be replaced two weeks before the performance. However, she was out of the hospital by the performances and healthy enough to participate as a member of the panels after the shows.

One of the young men in If Truth Be Told wanted to play himself, but did not want to reveal his identity to the public or to the other cast members. Martha and I discussed the pros and cons of this. Playing ones self and replaying difficult life situations can feel very overwhelming if the issues being enacted have not been emotionally dealt with and put into perspective. Raw, unprocessed emotions or memories experienced in a rehearsal – which is not structured for the purposes of therapy – can put an actor in a vulnerable state. We decided that this particular actor had the theatre training and the personal maturity and insight to handle playing himself. Martha, as a drama therapy student, knew what to look for in terms of “danger signs” in case of emotional distress and we planned a variety of drama therapy techniques disguised as character development exercises or “de-roling” techniques that she could implement as safety structures during rehearsals. As it turned out, our gut feeling that he would be able to handle the role was correct. However, she did have to be very aware of remembering not to inadvertently reveal his identity during rehearsals or post-performance discussions.

On the other side of the spectrum, one couple who had been interviewed for You Belong to Us decided after the play was written that they wanted to be removed from the play because they felt their story was so specific and well known in the community that their anonymity could not be assured when it was performed. We were distraught at the idea of losing their story from the play because it was probably the most dramatic and touching. The release they had signed had made it clear that there could be a performance in the future and that they were giving permission for their story to be used in that eventuality as well. However, we felt that using their story in a situation in which they feared re-traumatization was not in their best interest or in the best interest of the project. While re-writing the play was not something Jemmie wanted, not respecting the wishes of the interviewees was ethically repugnant to us. However, before starting to re-write Jemmie made one last ditch effort to convince the parents to allow her to retain their story in the script and in doing so discovered the real reason for their discomfort. The parents revealed that they had not asked their son – now grown and living in another state – for permission to tell the story to Jemmie in the first place and felt now that since it was his story, too, they should have asked, especially now that it was going to be put on stage. They also revealed that they had never at any point talked about these past incidents as a family. Jemmie encouraged them to ask their son’s permission and, even if he didn’t agree to their story being part of the play, to at least talk about the issues together. When they did, the son gave his permission and the family decided to have their story remain as part of the play. They reported that in talking about their family history together, they had experienced a real healing. While they were nervous about seeing the production and feared it might re-open old wounds, their sense of healing deepened when they saw the performance.

As it turned out, approaching rehearsals with drama therapy safeguards in place became necessary for reasons besides having actual interviewees portraying themselves. Knowing the characters were not fictional, but were their real-life neighbors created a big burden of responsibility on the actors who wanted to portray their roles as truthfully as possible. One actress said, “I stand in awe of the courage it took to tell these stories. As an actor, it’s been an honor and responsibility to be exposed to this level of intensity of what they’ve been through.”

With the exception of Jason Lantz in If Truth Be Told and Mel Pooler in You Belong to Us, none of the true identities of the characters in either play were revealed to the audiences.However, because the plays were being performed in the community in which they originated, a few of the actors, who were long-time residents, recognized the stories and correctly guessed who they were playing. They felt guilty that they had not understood the pain and struggles of the individuals they portrayed at the time the events had occurred. After speaking with his real-life counterpart (who voluntarily introduced himself privately after opening night), one actor reported that, “he helped me to realize why I didn’t do as much as I could have when I was in the position to affect policy.” The actor also said that before playing the role, “I think I understood the hurt, but I understand it much deeper today” and as a result, “I became very committed to tell this person’s story to the community.”

The fact that they were playing real people with real problems made the emotions and situations expressed in the play much more immediate and accessible to the actors than when they had been cast in fictional plays. For instance, the actors playing the parents found it quite easy to put themselves in their characters’ shoes. While none of the actors (except Mel) had children who were gay, they deeply identified with the parental struggles of their characters and the love they felt for their children. Half of the actors portraying the young men in If Truth Be Told were straight and half were gay. The gay actors had experienced many of the situations in the script first hand, bringing back many personal memories, even though they were not enacting their own story.

One of the actors in You Belong to Us was playing a very open, loving, and affectionate parent – the total opposite of her own cold, rejecting mother. This experience brought up a lot of unresolved grief from her childhood. Two sets of couples in the play were played by actors who were married to each other in real life. This meant real life marital interactions had to be dealt with and kept separate from the characters’ marital relationships.

Instead of allowing current and previous personal struggles to block progress in rehearsals, Jemmie chose to process them. When she sensed actors had reached a level of emotional intensity that was tapping into personal emotions rather than the characters’ emotions, she intervened with creative arts therapy projects to metaphorically process and contain the emotional material that was surfacing. She used a variety of art, poetry, music, journaling, ritual, games, and discussion to create safety valves and de-roling devices. This allowed the actors to express their feelings, understand them, and then refocus on the script.

This need for additional processing and containing techniques in rehearsals was experienced by Shannon Garretson as she directed Almost, the play about abortion. Shannon’s play was produced in the Purple Masque Theatre, the student performing space at K-State, as part of her creative project for her MA in theatre and her graduate certificate in Women’s Studies. It happened that her cast’s personal opinions about abortion ran the gamut from pro-choice to pro-life. Shannon used creative arts therapy techniques like journaling, mandalas, and collage to create a safe space for her actors. She had promised that this play would be produced in a neutral manner – focused on telling the stories of the women involved as they told them. Creating a safe, nonjudgmental space in which the play could be rehearsed was crucial so that actors could feel supported and accepted regardless of where they stood on the issue. This allowed each actor’s and each character’s experience to be valued and respected just as it was, with no pressure for change in any direction.Ultimately all involved were able to explore their feelings about abortion and reported in the end a greater willingness to accept and tolerate the complexity and shades of gray involved in the issue, while validating and valuing the experiences of others.

Past, present, and potential real life experiences needed to be addressed in some way in rehearsals as any woman involved with the production might have had an abortion or might be in a situation in which she might need to consider having one in the future. Even cast members who had not had a personal experience with abortion had the potential for having friends or family members who had struggled with it at some point. At the same time that Shannon realized personal issues might arise during the work, she was also keenly aware that rehearsals were not therapy sessions and the actors had not auditioned for the show in order to work on any personal issues. For this reason, drama therapy techniques were used primarily as containing and de-roling devices and at no time was anyone put in the position of having to reveal a personal experience to the group. Stories were shared voluntarily only when and if cast members chose to do so. The four actresses playing the four main characters were encouraged to explore how they were similar to the character they portrayed, and they were encouraged to explore how they were different. This helped cast members see each other as separate and distinct from their roles despite any personal similarities that might exist.

Stories which the characters told were filled with harrowing experiences of loss, humiliation, anger, and grief. In order to contain these emotions Shannon developed verbal, written, and artistic de-roling rituals to help separate the actors from their characters and from the play itself at the end of each rehearsal. In this way the feelings generated in rehearsal stayed in rehearsal and were not carried home at the end of the evening. Feelings potentially generated by real-life experiences could also be processed and contained through the de-roling exercises, so no one left rehearsals at the end of the evening feeling raw or vulnerable.

Performances of Almost were followed by discussions facilitated by counselors from the university counseling center, giving audience members the opportunity to ask questions and express opinions. Information on campus and community resources was made available in the lobby in case any emotional memories or concerns surfaced for audience members. A common theme of comments was the recognition that the play was about people and not politics, opening a space for thinking about the issues in a new, deeper, and more profoundly human way. Most of the interviewees were unable to see the show, as they had been recruited from a support group website and lived in different parts of the country, but all wrote letters to the cast thanking them for their willingness to tell their stories.

Shannon, Jemmie and Martha agree that their first experience with non-fiction theatre left them with a great respect for its power, an understanding of the tremendous ethical responsibility of artists involved in this type of work to provide safety and containment for interviewees, actors, and audiences alike, and a desire to work in the genre again. They felt their training as drama therapists helped them as playwrights to listen effectively and reflect the stories told to them with respect and sensitivity. They also felt their drama therapy skills came into play as directors, respecting the boundaries between theatre and therapy for their actors. In the process they worked toward achieving a healthy balance that included positive personal experiences for all the participants and a satisfying artistic production that addressed the issues of the community in a way that challenged unfairness while validating lived experiences.

Conclusion

What makes non-fiction theatre unique and powerful?

Non-fiction plays focus on social action topics, challenging audiences to think and take action about the issues depicted. But unlike fictional social action plays, the voice of the participant is literally brought in – a bottom-up approach which fits well with Paulo Friere’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed philosophy. Who knows how a problem is constructed better than those who have actually lived it?

Our brains are built to remember what has been woven into a story, combining facts with sensory experiences and emotions, because the brain functions holistically – connecting thinking and feeling (Damasio, 1994). Emotional connections allow us to make decisions. Facts or ideas devoid of those connections don’t stick with us long. Stories told of real events, viewed through the eyes of people who were there, help us make meaning of these events in ways we can’t forget.

Nonfiction plays are part of the oral tradition, going back to our basic need for sharing experience with each other through the spoken word and personal narrative. In theatre, unlike in literature or visual art, this testimony is spoken aloud and embodied by the actors. The lived experiences of real people are brought into the live bodies of the actors on stage and – through the mirror neurons in our brains – into the bodies of the audience. Embodiment then directly leads to perspective-taking, empathy, and connection (Iacoboni, 2008).

Theatre always involves witnessing. The Greek word for theatre – theaomai – means “to view, gaze at, behold.” The audience witnesses the actors presenting the story on the stage. Including actual testimony in a non-fiction play takes that witnessing experience to a deeper, more meaningful level. The audience is not just taking the perspective of a character – an invention of a playwright’s mind – but is taking on the perspective of another living, breathing human being and walking a mile in his or her shoes.

While all non-fiction plays have a point of view; really well-done ones carefully craft a balance of viewpoints, allowing a variety of opinions and experiences to be shared. The writer’s ultimate goal is to begin a dialogue for change during the performance which will be continued by audience members after the play is over. The hope is that this dialogue will continue to respect the complexity of the issue and the human beings involved.

Using actors to portray the real life persons in non-fiction plays creates distance. This liberates the audience to think more critically about the messages in the play. A fictional play can be dismissed as – well – fiction! A lecture or autobiographical play where the witness speaks his or her own truth directly can be intimidating for witness and audience alike. The distance of non-fiction theatre allows witnesses to experience less vulnerability by having the actors represent them. Actors are trained to be expressive, assuring the story is well told.This distance allows the audience more safety in experiencing the play, too. Instead of responding in anger or sympathy to the actual person, the audience can respond to the ideas and emotions that are shared in a more reflective way.

Narrative is essentially the way we live and make meaning of our lives. Nonfiction plays provide audiences with a direct connection to a chapter in one or several persons’ lives, allowing a small part of the greater story of humanity to be told and understood.

We live in narrative and understand the world around us through it. We tell the story of our lives again and again, revising it each time with new insights arrived at from the perspective of our present looking back on our past, evaluating and re-evaluating what happened in terms of all of our experiences to date (McAdams,1993).

Addendum:

Jemmie Godwin and Martha Crouse were awarded the 2007 Human Rights Award from the Flinthills Human Rights Commission and the 2007 National Award for Outstanding Education Program from National PFLAG at their annual convention. DVDs of If Truth Be Told and You Belong to Us are available for $25 from the Flinthills PFLAG website on the Family Ties page at http://fhpflag.org/_wsn/page4.html.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Blank, J. & Jensen, E. (2004). The exonerated. NY: Faber and Faber, Inc.

Blank, J. & Jensen, E. (2005). Living justice: Love, freedom, and the making of the exonerated.  NY: Simon & Schuster.

Cvetkovich A. & Pellegrini A. (Summer 2003). “Performance Works.” Public Sentiments. 2 (1), retrieved 3/4/2007 from http://wwwbarnard.edu/sfonline/ps/intro3.htm.

Damasio, A.R. (1994). Descartes’ error: Emotion, reason, and the human brain. NY: Avon Books.

Deavere Smith, A. (Spring 1997). “The shades of loss.” Ford Foundation Report Online, retrieved 3/4/2007 from http://www.fordfound.org/publications/ff_report/view_ff_report_detail.cfm?report_index=111.

Deavere Smith, A. (2000). Talk to me: Listening between the lines. NY: Random House.

Deavere Smith, A. (1994). Twilight: Los Angeles, 1992. NY: First Anchor Books.

Deavere Smith. A. (1997). Fires in the mirror. NY: Dramatists Play Service, Inc.

Ensler, E. (2001). The vagina monologues. NY: Villard Books.

Favorini, A, (1995). Ten plays from the documentary theatre. Ecco.

Friere, P. (2002). Pedagogy of the oppressed. NY: Theatre Communications Group, Inc.

Geiger, S. (2003). “What’s so feminist about women’s oral history?” in Heisse-Bieber, S.N. &

Yaiser, M.L. (eds.) Feminist Perspectives on Social Research. New York: Oxford University Press.

Green, M.C., Strange, J.J., & Brock, T.C., eds., Narrative impact: Social and cognitive foundations. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Publishers.

Iacoboni, M. (2008). Mirroring people: The new science of how we connect with others. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

Kaufman, M. (1998). Gross indecency: The three trials of Oscar Wilde. NY: Vintage Books.

Kaufman, M. & the Members of the Tectonic Theater Project. (2001). The Laramie project. NY: Dramatists Play Service, Inc.

Mann, E. (1982). Still life: A documentary. NY: Dramatists Play Service, Inc.

Mann, E. (1997). Testimonies: Four plays. NY: Theatre Communications Group.

Mann, E. (1996). Having our say: The Delany sisters’ first 100 years. NY: Dramatists Play Service, Inc.

McAdams, D.P. (1993). The stories we live by: Personal myths and the making of the self. NY: Guilford Press.

Nelson, A. (2002). The guys: A play. NY: Random House.

NOW Transcript, August 11, 2006, retrieved 3/4/2007 from http://www.pbs.org/now/transcript/232.html.

Teatr rasskaza (The Theatre of Storytelling) and Nicholas Sergeyevich Govorov

When I moved to Manhattan, Kansas in 1999 to begin teaching playwriting and drama therapy at Kansas State University, I met Ariadna Martin, the Russian wife of the Executive Director of McCain Auditorium, at a university reception. She told me she had been an actress in her native land before moving to the U.S. I asked if she had ever heard of Nicholai Evreinov or Vladimir Iljine, two Russian directors in the early years of the 20th century who Phil Jones had identified in his book Drama as Therapy, Theatre as Living as early Russian drama therapists. She knew of Evreinov and was impressed that I had heard of him. After I told her more about drama therapy, she began to tell me about Nikolai Govorov, a director with whom she had worked. As she described his work with “common people,” I realized that he was also doing drama therapy. On June 2, 2004 Ariadna agreed to let me interview her so that I could preserve her impressions of Govorov’s work. What follows is an edited version of the interview.

A few notes before we begin:

The Russian word rasskaz means both the genre short story and also the process of storytelling.

When they were performing, Govorov always encouraged his performers to call the character they performed “I.”

Teatr rasskaza (The Theatre of Storytelling) and Nicholas Sergeyevich Govorov:

An Interview with Ariadna Martin

ARIADNA: I met and worked with Nikolai Sergeyevich Govorov actually twice in my life. The first time was sometime in 1956. At that time I was with him and his group about half a year. Later I had to leave the city and when I came back, he was somewhere else. It was 18 years before I met him again in the fall of 1974, just unexpectedly, in the hall of the Herzen Pedagogical Institute, where he was supposed to give a lecture that evening. I asked him what he was doing then, and he invited me to that lecture and said that he had a new group and was involved in an innovative workshop and that I was welcome to come. So, actually, there were two periods of his work. Different, but, of course, he was always trying to find something new to enrich the technique of his work.

When I met Nikolai Sergeyevich for the first time, he came to the University, where I was a student. Already he was working with a group of amateur performers from different walks of life, you know, people from factories, technical institutes, and so on. He came to the University to enlarge his group, specifically to recruit students of the humanities. He tried to persuade us that he was doing something very interesting. The name of his group was Teatr rasskaza (The Theatre of Storytelling).

Of course, there are many, many short stories in literature and they mostly are written in the form of monologue. An artist or storyteller can stand on the stage in front of an audience pretending that he is the main character of that story, talking about himself. This was the practice of most of the theatres. Often such an actor chooses someone in the audience as his main listener and addresses him. Sometimes this makes the chosen person feel uncomfortable, sometimes quite happy.

Nikolai Sergeyevich’s idea was that the absence of a real social relationship, contact with the person listening to the performer, the isolation of the performer – who only pretends to have that relationship – led many artists to mental illness. You need to tell your story to somebody and you need his or her reaction, which means you need a reason for telling your story; it should be motivated somehow. That’s how you are all involved while you’re telling it: how your story makes sense to you and your listeners. So the listeners were allowed to respond, to say something to the actor, to express themselves.

SALLY: How did Nikolai Sergeyevich set up the performance? If he had the storytellers on stage and the listeners all in the audience, then he would have had the old convention of the actor telling the story to nobody.

ARIADNA: He put the storyteller in a situation similar to regular theatre, where there could be at least one listener, or more. There was a table or sofa, or whatever, suited to the situation. Some stories included the situation where the storytelling begins. But many did not.

My role in the group at first was, not as much to perform, as to find stories in the literature which had the needed situation. We called it predlagayemye obstoyatel’stva or suggested circumstances. If there was no specific situation in which the story was told, I had to invent a situation for the telling so the storytelling was motivated. I would also make some lines for the listeners to respond to. Nikolai Sergeyevich encouraged improvisation – when the listeners could say something that I didn’t write for them in order to react as in real life – so there was a life-like interaction between the storyteller and his listener(s).

One story I myself presented later on was Anton Chekhov’s “The Lady’s Story” or “Madame N.N.” I put the storyteller, played by me, and my niece, a character I invented, on stage and I told my niece my story. I was a spinster. My niece came from the country to the city to visit me. We were sitting near the fireplace and I looked at her and said, “You look somewhat different. What’s this?” She was sad and told me that she had fallen in love with someone, but her parents were against it because he was not of her class. As we continued talking she asked me, “But where is your husband? Did he die? Or is he somewhere else?” And then I told her my story. To finish the story I invented a maid. After I rang my bell, she came in and said, “The samovar is ready. Shall I serve tea now?”

SALLY: So you became one of the characters in the story, telling the story?

ARIADNA: Yes. There were different “suggested situations.” In some books the storyteller was the author or narrator; sometimes he was one of the characters. One example, the storyteller is on the train and goes into his compartment. He begins a conversation with his neighbor and then his story comes out. So it looks realistic, psychologically justified.

I don’t know when and where he started Teatr rasskaza, but at the time I met him in 1956 he belonged to a so-called Palace of Culture – in Leningrad there were many Houses of Culture and four Palaces. At one of the Palaces we’d get together twice a week in the evenings. He knew how to keep strict discipline. You were not supposed to miss a session without a serious reason. You could not be a smoker. He got the room there for rehearsals and conversations. He did not call them lectures, but he told and taught us a lot about the history and the theory of the theatre, including curious and witty anecdotes about theatre life. In the Palace there were two auditoriums, one with a big stage for professional artists and ensembles, and a small one for various amateur groups working in the Palace, including regular theatre groups, singers, dancers, even a circus. Our group was performing on that small stage before an audience. People really loved to work with Nikolai Sergeyevich. Everyone was very enthusiastic; he simply infected everybody. There were mostly young people, but some older people, too. And the audience loved this theatre.

He, himself, was really brilliant and enthusiastic. You know, sometimes it seemed that if you looked at him, he had something demonic in him. He was lean, relatively tall, with beautiful long fingers and black, just burning eyes…. So enthusiastic!

When I met him later, he continued working on the idea that theatre should heal people. He actually called his method “the theatrical way of developing a person’s social behavior.” He helped people to be social, not shy, lonely, depressed, apathetic.

SALLY: So he used theatre to make connections between people.

ARIADNA: Yes, to make connections, to allow them to articulate their thoughts and feelings. Often people did not talk to others because of shyness or because they thought they didn’t know anything interesting, that nothing interesting happened to them. They thought they were not able to improvise anything, so he encouraged them to tell a story written by a writer. He said they first should read the story and then try to tell the other people in the group.

He told us some stories of his success, his achievements, during the past years: how one very shy working man finally became the center of attention of his colleagues because he became able to learn by heart a lot of stories by Leo Tolstoy: large excerpts from books like War and Peace and Anna Karenina. The man would later tell the stories to his colleagues while working and they would happily listen to them. Nikolai Sergeyevich encouraged people, but he never expected them to learn a story by heart from the very beginning. He’d say, “Read it. Try to tell as much as you remember. Don’t be shy. Don’t be ashamed that you tell it wrong – just go on, the next time it will be better.” And he encouraged you to do this time after time, as long as you needed. And finally, you learned the piece by heart.

SALLY: So he would say, “Don’t memorize it.”

ARIADNA: Right. Don’t memorize it. After a while the story would be somehow memorized indeed – and if you forgot part of it – you would continue it in your own words. Of course, he’d say, after a while you can re-read the story again. During the sessions where people would be very, very timid he would say, “Just read a paragraph now. Then put the text aside and try to retell it.”

In the 70’s he had a sort of forum room, a round room with raised seating, like an amphitheatre, at the Bekhterev Mental Institution (referred to as Békhterevka colloquially). It wasn’t very big and many of his group members were actually patients at this mental institution. He had a group of about 30 people. Outsiders like me were also welcomed. Attendance varied from 23 to 30. And Nikolai Sergeyevich’s work with them turned out to be a healing work. The floor of the amphitheatre served as our stage and everybody was supposed to participate in the work – there were no outsiders who just looked on. He had these sessions on Sundays from 10 till 10. Of course, we got some breaks and people usually went for short walks or to eat in the café or to eat what they brought with them, but we worked there the whole day.

He would start his sessions with asking everybody present to write on a slip of paper just a few lines of dialogue, three or four lines without any given background, involving at least two people. Sometime just two lines were enough. He’d say, “If you cannot come up with anything, just maybe you can remember something.” One participant came with lines from a poem by M. Lermontov where a boy was asking his grandfather about the war with Napoleon – just one question and one answer. A smart way out, wasn’t it? Each person would write as many copies of the dialogue as there were participants in it and give these copies to people of his choice. Those people would read the dialogue to themselves, then aloud for the rest of us. In other words, the actors would perform it just the way they felt, not knowing anything about the background. Of course, when someone reads something, the listeners get some psychological impulse or some indication of how to react.

SALLY: It’s almost impossible not to put emotion into what you read and not to project some kind of relationship into a dialogue.

ARIADNA: Absolutely. Especially, if the first performer gives a certain impulse, the other people catch it and get involved. Nikolai Sergeyevich did this with all the participants. Then the second stage of work began. Nikolai Sergeyevich would ask someone to volunteer to be the leader in making up a story. If no one volunteered, he would choose someone. That person could choose a number of dialogues – five or six probably – from those freshly written. The leader had to start thinking how those dialogues would fit in his story. He could choose anybody to act in his improvised story. He could even make changes: if in the original presentation of a dialogue, a man and a woman read the parts, he could instead cast two women or two men. He would ask the chosen actors to perform all those five or six dialogues first without any giving any background just to see what they came up with.

The third stage of the process began when the leader chose someone to be a listener and started creating a story from the dialogues. He presented a motivation for why he was telling this story to this particular listener. The rest of the class along with Nikolai Sergeyevich became the audience. The leader usually gave some kind of background about the characters in the story: who they were, how they were related, and so on, so the actors performing the dialogues in the story could adjust their attitudes to the leader’s concept instead of how they might have performed them when they read them together for the first time. He would start the story and continue it up to the point when he thought it was time to include the characters with the first dialogue. He le them say their words and if he chose to continue himself from this point, he could participate in one of the dialogues and interact with characters in his story or he could let the characters continue the dialogue, improvising on their own. He would listen to their improvisation as long as he thought it didn’t break his original conception. Then he could interrupt them and continue his story, now actually including something new that came up in the improvised dialogue. What the storyteller says forces the actors to actively interact during the improvisation. This is a creative act, just on the spot: both the characters and the leader can change the conceptions they held in the beginning. The storyteller needs to be especially alert all the time.

Here is a curious story about being a storyteller/leader. A young man (the leader) told a story about his mother. He himself also was a character in the story, a high school teenager.He said to his listener that his mother was divorced. He had formed indeed a basic idea of his story from start to finish. Before he started the story, I read the dialogue given to me, which said that his mother asks him, “Son, do you remember that I told you that I wanted to introduce you to my friend, don’t you? He said, “Yes, I do.” I, as the mother, replied, “Okay, he’s here now. So we can do it right now.” He said, “Okay.” And when the man came in, the son (the storyteller) desperately exclaimed, “Sergei, is it you?! How…?” He looked repeatedly at Sergei and then at me, and almost screamed, “Mama?! You know one another?!” That was in the dialogue. Something, a certain conflict, was already present in the dialogue which he recognized. Some people who worked there for a long time and were quite experienced knew about the “right” beginning which makes the whole story. All the conflict is there.

SALLY: Yes, it is all there. And anything could happen, but it’s a big mystery, the drama unfolds for you.

ARIADNA: I need to go back and explain one thing. Before starting to improvise the drama-story, the participants just read the dialogue first without having the background conceived by the storyteller. But the words and lines already hide something of what we feel somehow. There was an interesting psychological situation with myself in this instance, how in the course of preparation and the future playing I changed what I felt myself as a person, not only as a character. First, before the storytelling started, I felt somewhat awkward. I opened the drawers in the desk on the stage and looked for something, not knowing for what. I found a comb and picked it up, thinking I would use it myself. But his hair looked messy and was standing up, so I mechanically tried to comb it and make it lie down, which irritated him enormously. He was, you know, just furious with me. [Ariadna gestures and makes a facial expression to express the son’s feeling as if to indicate the attitude, “You are being so fussy!”]

SALLY: [speaking as son] “Oh, mother!”

ARIADNA: Yes, something like that. Then when he started the story, he gave some fuller background for himself and me. He said to his listener, “But don’t think that she’s an unhappy woman and you have to sympathize with her. She’s a very strong woman and she herself can sympathize with anybody in a situation similar to hers.” Maybe after noticing my uncomfortable behavior, he decided to add these words about my being strong. I’ll tell you, IT HELPED me, unbelievably!

You know, the night before that Sunday I had a very bad, quite sleepless night and I came to our session very tired and didn’t know what I was going to do. At first I even thought of refusing to participate in this improvisation, but the storyteller said about me, “She’s a strong woman and she can take care not only of herself, but of anybody else around.” It just poured into me in an instant – all the strength, all the self-confidence, and everything. And the next time when we were in the right part of the story, I didn’t behave awkwardly, felt no confusion or embarrassment. I was just very proud of what I was doing and then he said suddenly, “Sergei?! Mama?!” He looked lost and frustrated, but I remained calm and self-assured.

Everybody was listening like that – with full attention, but for some reason we were not able to find a way out. I thought of two or more ideas to solve this situation – to untie the knot of whatever was happening in the scene – but my son would say something else to take away from me the opportunity to straighten things out. In his role, he chose to be a stubborn boy. And it seemed the audience liked it.

But Nikolai Sergeyevich thought it was taking too long and finally said, “Stop.” I said, “No, no, please,” and everybody else also said, “No, no. Please, let them go on.” But Nikolai Sergeyevich said, “No; it will have no end.” Then someone said, “But let her tell what she meant.” I said that I was just going to say that Sergei and my husband knew one another because they were at high school together, but I hadn’t revealed it at the beginning of the scene because of everything else that was happening. It was very, very emotional. Everybody liked it. Nikolai Sergeyevich was so sorry that he interrupted us. He said, “That was a good conclusion.” And the “son” said that he had thought we, Sergei and I, were both betrayers, we were hiding from him that we knew one another, but actually Sergei didn’t know that his young friend was my son.

So that was the way that Nikolai Sergeyevich was working in his workshop. He developed creativity in people and first and foremost self-confidence. Later I realized that most of his very intelligent, intellectual, very smart people who seemed to be the core of his group were actually all from the mental institution; they were his patients! They attended his workshop and they helped him because they liked it and were quite enthusiastic.

SALLY: And were they currently in the institution?

ARIADNA: Most had been released. A few were still there, but nobody talked about that.

SALLY: And those that had been released were willing to come back… how wonderful.

ARIADNA: And some people would come, like me, from somewhere else, and some who knew him from a long time ago. After all, I had known him from 1956.

Once, after we met again, he told me that some years before a TV producer became interested in his work. So his group showed this man three different pieces. One was a story by one of the writers that was not improvisation. I don’t know about the second. After seeing the third piece, the TV producer said, “Oh, this was the best. You probably worked very hard on this one.” And Nikolai Sergeyevich said, “That was all improvisation – right now, on the spot.” Nobody could believe it.

These sessions started, as I said, at 10 o’clock in the morning and we began with writing the dialogues and the centerpiece was this sort of improvised performance with the leader. Then after some rest we were supposed to sit and write what we thought about it – no matter how many pages, the more the better. He always collected our papers for his archive. And then we all discussed it. Nikolai Sergeyevich liked how the people in his group performed; he was not focused on the acting, but on what they tried to do with the story, especially with the conflict in it – how they tried to solve it. He always emphasized to us, “You see what you’re doing. You try to do it morally, humanely, in the best ways.” If there were any hints of the opposite behavior on the part of the participants in the story being performed, then during the discussion, the rest of the people would point it out with dissatisfaction. He used to say that this was a very good way to educate people about how to behave. And he called this theatre – probably in translation it would sound very heavy and awkward – theatrical methods of activization and enhancement of social behavior of a person. Certainly it helped to change, to improve personality.

Besides this didactical part, when we had discussion, we were also supposed to talk about the process of performing itself: how the beginning was done and how the story and the characters developed, like analyzing the play and performance.

SALLY: It seems that because people were able to just allow the emotion of the story to come to them that they must have felt very safe in the group. What did he do to create that feeling of safety and trust?

ARIADNA: Safety – that’s exactly what he cared about. Nikolai Sergeyevich told us that we should never laugh at anybody if they did something wrong. Of course, we could smile and somehow encourage people and just be friendly and supporting all the time. Earlier on I spoke about his recommendation of what to do if the actor didn’t remember the story they were telling. But I didn’t say that part of his Sunday sessions were sometimes devoted to storytelling of the writers’ own personal stories, especially for those who needed to learn how not to be shy and needed to become articulate. In other words, he alternated the sessions’ programs from Sunday to Sunday. Another part of his sessions, an hour or two, would be devoted to talking. He told us of some experience with theraputical theatre in the West, about European experiments. Of course, I heard from him about Nikolai Evreinov and his “Theatre for One’s Self” and “Theatre for Others.” He also knew many, many interesting stories. Sometimes he would tell us wonderful stories about old writers and actors. And I remember that he told us that while he was never able to remember a single foreign word, he could read any book of any philosopher and would know it by heart right away. He even helped some university students who were in the group to pass their exams. He would just walk one evening with them along the streets, almost like those philosophical walks in ancient times, and tell them about the history of philosophy and the basic concepts from various philosophers of particular periods so the young men would pass their exams easily.

SALLY: Much of what he was doing is what today we would call drama therapy. He was helping people to find and tell their own stories. He would start out with a story that they knew and then allow them to get to their own stories and to make up stories, too.

ARIADNA: You know, those storyteller-leaders, they made up stories just by improvising and so logically, so interestingly, using just the material which came… from nowhere, only a few disconnected dialogues they chose from those which were written by us before their eyes. It’s creativity.

SALLY: The highest form, because you are spontaneously creating in the moment with other people.

ARIADNA: And Nikolai Sergeyevich developed their creativity. People who worked with him become so confident, self-assured… and respecting of the other people as co-creators.

Almost 30 years have passed since I left Russia, and here you are asking me about him! My husband opened for me a web site and what we found first was his obituary. He died May 9, 2002 at the age of 81. It was sad to read that, though I really suspected that by this time he might no longer be alive. But what was really comforting and made me happy was to know that he was finally recognized. He even had his own center called “Nikolai Sergeyevich Govorov’s Center: Adaptation and Development of the Individual.” It became a serious business. Who would even think! The news just made my day

—SECTION: News  CAT: Articles

PAGE:  Incorporating Multiple Intelligences into the Advisement of Theatre Students

This article was presented as part of the Association for Theatre in Higher Education’s Symposium: Theory of Multiple Intelligences and Theatre at the ATHE/AATE’s Joint Conference on Risking Innovation in New York City on August 11, 2009.

The Purpose of Education: Understanding

We are educators and that common focus brings us to this symposium. But what is the purpose of education? Is it about the accumulation of facts, the acquisition of a set of skills, or the development of understanding, a way of thinking about and solving problems within the disciplines and domains being studied?

Different approaches to education focus on one or a combination of those purposes. School systems that drill students in memorization of names, dates, theories, literary passages, and equations of an identified core set of material value the “accumulation of facts” method. Proof of successful learning in this kind of system is evidenced by the passing of tests that elicit the one correct answer to each specific question. There are many educational systems which value this from high powered Asian schools where students study and drill daily to Mid-Eastern madrassases where students memorize religious texts to our own U.S. public schools where much instruction has become focused on teaching to standardized tests in order not to lose federal funding under the regulations required by “No Child Left Behind.”

Many classrooms in technical academies, business schools, and even artistic training programs for artists, actors, and designers focus on teaching students a process or series of processes through which they will develop skills and an approach to create a product or work of art. The basic knowledge and facts of the discipline are learned and then scaffolded with the required skills which are practiced until they become part of the student’s procedural memory. Whether an acting student is learning Stanislavsky’s Method, Viewpoints, or another approach to creating and performing a role, the elaboration and internalization of the process is the focus, so that in the end the student can take the techniques and apply them to different characters in different performance situations.

I believe education as the development of understanding in a scholarly area asks something more of educators and students. In his book The Unschooled Mind (1991), Howard Gardner defines understanding as the ability to apply knowledge, concepts, and skills acquired through education to a new situation in which that knowledge is applied for solving a problem that has never been solved before. It requires an ability to recognize patterns, to hypothesize a new application of old knowledge and then test that hypothesis to see if it holds up, and often to synthesize information from one discipline to another, applying it in a new context. In a sense this kind of education is the ultimate version of “If you give a man a fish, he eats for today, but if you teach him to fish, he can feed himself for a lifetime.” It is a form of education that ultimately frees the student to become an initiator, a creator, and his/her own teacher once formal schooling is done.

Once we leave school, we are no longer asked to perform tests in order to demonstrate mastery; we are given real-life projects to complete on our own or with others. Some of these projects may require knowing certain facts or following a specific process, but others may not. Those unique projects require thinking and applying information in new ways and, therefore, will be accomplished by those who have achieved a true understanding of the domain. As Gardner aptly says in Multiple Intelligences: New Horizons, “In life, most problems are not presented ready-made to the solver but must be shaped out of events and information from the surrounding environment…we need a deeper understanding to delve into these problems” (2006, p. 210-211). If we have not achieved an understanding of our discipline, we are stuck.

Gardner suggests in his book Five Minds for the Future that with the globalization of the economy and the immense growth of information, technology, and science, the valued cognitive abilities will grow beyond the requirement of an educated person achieving a mastery of his or her own domain or discipline; those who lead and excel will also need to develop cognitive abilities to synthesize understanding from different disciplines, to create new knowledge and solve brand new problems and invent heretofore unknown products, to respect and appreciate others and their contributions, and to approach work and life responsibilities from a stance of ethics – keeping oneself working within and towards recognized standards, principles and values, above and beyond personal gain, for the greater good of all humanity and the planet.

This need for understanding as a primary outcome of education has been acknowledged by others. In his book A Whole New Mind Daniel Pink (2006) identifies a paradigm shift in the global workplace which has already begun to impact every worker in the 21st century. He believes we are moving into what he calls “The Conceptual Age,” a time when the workplace will demand a different, more holistic set of skills from workers than were required in previous work paradigms. These skills require employees to use their knowledge and skills at a much higher level than previous paradigms – at the level of understanding. How we advise students as we guide them through their courses of study will determine whether they will be employable when they leave school, and if they will be able to change and grow along with the world.

I want to first describe this new work paradigm so its different requirements are clear and explain how they interface with the Multiple Intelligences. Then I want to share how courses already offered in our theatre curriculum naturally embody the Multiple Intelligences. Theatre faculty as advisors can build an academic course of study for our majors that will open up opportunities for dynamic careers for our graduates, whether they end up employed within the discipline of theatre arts or in another area of endeavor. But we do not want to limit our vision to our own departments. These same courses – taken by students from other disciplines in the university – will prepare them for success in the Conceptual Age as well. We have the ability to become a general resource to the entire university community.

The New Paradigm

Humanity has experienced a number of workplace paradigm shifts in the 7 million years we have been on this planet. Early humans were hunter/gatherers focused on foraging and hunting for survival. Then 11,000 years ago – only 11,000 years ago! – our now Homo sapien ancestors learned how to cultivate crops so they could stay in one place. In the shift to the Agricultural Age, hunter/gatherers were transformed into farmers, and later, with domestication of animals, into herders (Diamond, 1997).

150 years ago the Agricultural Age gave way to the Industrial Age. With the advent of machines, manufacturing, and the assembly line, many farmers became blue collar laborers who followed routines and took specific repetitive actions in order to move the product from one station to the next in the assembly process. Rank and file workers did not need to problem solve, as much as to follow orders and be “part of the machine.” Even management fit into the well-oiled engine of the corporation. While managers might be called upon to solve problems, they really were encouraged to think inside of the box. Then in the second half of the 20th century the workforce began to shift again.

To get a more specific handle on the seismic change in workforce employment, U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics (2001) show that at the turn of the 20th century (when the paradigm shift to the Industrial Age was building steam) approximately 38 percent of the workforce was involved in farming, 38 percent was involved in mining, manufacturing, and construction, and 31 percent was involved in service. (If you add those numbers up they actually come to 107 percent, but those are the figures the U.S. Bureau of Census reports in Historical Statistics of the United States, Colonial Times to 1970, Part 1, Series D 152-66, p.138). By the end of the 20th century less than 3 percent were farmers, 19 percent were involved in manufacturing, mining, and construction, and 78 percent were involved in service and information processing (Bureau of Labor Statistics, 2001, p.3).

What happened? By the 21st century the farmers are in insignificant numbers and the industrial workers have declined, too! What happened was the fourth paradigm shift – to the Information Age. As computers and technology exponentially advanced in the second half of the 20th century, workers left the factories, moved into the office place and the service sector, and became “knowledge workers” who spent their time entering and manipulating data. Information Age jobs asked workers to acquire facts and apply them theoretically and analytically. This definitely called upon understanding knowledge in a different manner than workers laboring in factories; it required left-brained manipulation of knowledge and technical savvy. However, many knowledge workers were employed in the storing and transfer of old information rather than the creation of new.

The instant availability to information has changed the way we all function. In the last ten years we have become so accustomed to clicking on the internet to bring up facts, statistics, news, gossip, whatever information we need in order to do our work or entertain ourselves, that it is hard to remember the long hours we spent researching for those items in the library years ago.

Now just as we’ve accustomed ourselves to the speed and glut of the Information Age, Daniel Pink says another change is coming. With the growth of technology, the automation of so much information and operations (done much faster and more cheaply by computers) and the ability to move many knowledge operations overseas to less expensive, but more plentiful knowledge workers in Asia, workers who access, enter, and manipulate knowledge are less and less necessary here in America. Pink says that high-tech, left brained abilities are still needed, but they are no longer enough; workers in the Conceptual Age must be able to master six aptitudes to make them competitive: Conceptual Age workers must be able to Design. They must be able to communicate through Story. They must be able to see and work with the whole picture, not just the parts – in other words be able to Synthesize (Pink calls this “Symphony” as he likes the image of many parts playing harmoniously as one). They must be able to forge relationships through Empathy. They must learn how to Play in order to access their creativity. And they must be able through all of these skills to pursue Meaning. Obviously, the skill set required of workers in the 21stcentury will be different across the board. These are much more complex skills and I believe they require what Gardner would identify as an Education focused on Understanding.Interestingly enough, they are all aptitudes that we incorporate into our theatre curricula.

How Multiple Intelligences Fit the Conceptual Age.

Before moving on to identify how to use MI Theory to inform advisement in this new Conceptual Age, I want to spend a few minutes making more connections between Pink’s six required aptitudes and how they dovetail with Gardner’s Multiple Intelligences. To make sure we are clearly defining terms, I want to go back to Gardner’s definitions. An intelligence is “a capacity to process a certain kind of information that originates in human biology and human psychology,” which leads naturally to the solving of certain kinds of problems that are valued by society or the making certain kinds of products used by society (p.6). Each intelligence relates to a specific domain of knowledge – which we could also call a discipline or a craft – and is processed in certain pathways in the brain (p. 31). All intelligences can be symbolized in some way and have a unique developmental profile. Verbal-Linguistic Intelligence deals in working with words and language; Logical-Mathematical Intelligence deals in working with numbers, sequences, and logic; Visual-Spatial Intelligence deals in working with images and dimensions; Bodily Kinesthetic Intelligence deals in the use of the body in practical and artistic ways; Musical Intelligence deals in working with music, sound, tempo, rhythm, and silence; Interpersonal Intelligence deals in understanding and working with other people; Intrapersonal Intelligence deals with understanding and managing oneself; Naturalist Intelligence deals with the patterns and the cycles of nature or biology; and Existential Intelligence deals with ultimate meanings, of finding our place in the universe.

Three of Pink’s aptitudes directly require the application of a team of intelligences: Design requires understanding of Visual-Spatial and Logical-Mathematical, as well as Naturalistic Intelligence, particularly in regard to our current need for green solutions, taking the survival of our natural world into the solution of our design problems. Story relates directly to Verbal-Linguistic as well as to Interpersonal and Intrapersonal Intelligences, since stories communicate complex human behavior through narrative. Empathy, connecting to and understanding what others are thinking and feeling, requires both Interpersonal and Intrapersonal Intelligences. Empathy can only happen when we experience within ourselves the emotion, situation, idea, or attitude of another, and in that moment put ourselves generously and non-judgmentally into someone else’s shoes to imagine what their experience is like.

Symphony/Synthesis requires students to begin thinking interdisciplinarily, making connections between the patterns, knowledge, and skills that derive from a variety of domains and learning how to incorporate more than one intelligence into the development of a product. This is an aptitude that can be intrinsically found in all of the arts, but particularly in the dramatic arts where we incorporate many elements and ideas seamlessly into a harmonious whole. Theatre itself is a synthesis – of acting, design, music, dance, and poetry. The perfect example of a theatre artist who used symphony or synthesis in his approach to his craft is Shakespeare. Shakespeare’s plays call upon a rich use of Verbal-Linguistic Intelligence in order to create dialogue and story, and his expert employment of rhythm and iambic pentameter in that dialogue (plus his inclusion in some plays of song) makes full use of Musical Intelligence. His deep understanding of human behavior, demonstrated through the plays’ plots and the characters’ actions, present a skillful understanding of Inter– and Intra-personal Intelligences. Naturalist Intelligence is pulled into the mix through his frequent use of symbols from nature to express and represent the human actions in his plays. Deep themes and meanings, expressed in all of his plays explored and analyzed for centuries by artists, critics and scholars, testify to his employment of Existential Intelligence.

Daniel Pink talks about the aptitude to Play as another important skill for successful workers in the Conceptual Age. Play involves an approach to learning that brings into the mix safety, structure, experimentation, joy, creativity, imagination, humor, stress-release, distance, and multiple perspective-taking and through which relationships and trust can be built with other workers. Play allows everyone to be on the same team and join together in a positive creative process. All of the intelligences can be played with – and are played with joyfully by those who have had crystallizing or positive experiences with them. Most of us chose a career in theatre because of our love for Play, plays, and playing. Our jobs provide us with not only permission to play and imagine, but demand it!

Meaning, of course, is over-arching. We are all – as conscious, meaning-making creatures – existentially on a journey to discover the meaning of life and to make a meaningful life. As theatre artists, we have taken on that task as part of our artistic purpose. To make meaning requires synthesis of all the intelligences in the service of Existential Intelligence.

As I read Daniel Pink’s book A Whole New Mind I recognized myself and my theatre training. Each course I had as a theatre student worked at a symphonic level to teach me about design, story, empathy, symphony, play, and meaning. I realized that not only was I cross-trained for life and art, but that I am passing the same aptitudes on to the students in the classes that I am teaching now whether they are majoring in theatre, psychology, social work, business, or agriculture!

School as Preparation for a Career and for Life

When high school students and their families set out to choose a college and curriculum of study, most are focused on choosing a course of study that will get them a degree that will lead to a secure, well-paying job, and ultimately, a career. We have all encountered students who love the arts and wish they could major in them, but are told bluntly by their parents that if they major in theatre or music, they are on their own. On the other hand, say the parents, if the student will choose a more “realistic” major, the parents will willingly underwrite a Bachelors of Science in education, business administration, chemical engineering, or pre-medical studies.

Over the course of the last 20 years, with more emphasis on running higher education on a business model, students are more and more seen in the role of consumer rather than scholar. The luster of an education focused on the development of understanding the world has dimmed in the eyes of our potential consumers and their parents. They see themselves as paying for a product; that product being a degree that will guarantee them a job – one that pays very well. Academic programs, feeling the pressure of this business model, have begun focusing their curricula more narrowly on developing a limited set of skills that will prepare students rigidly for a small, specialized field so that graduates can step directly from the classroom into the office.

I have experienced this shift just in the nine years I have taught at Kansas State University. When I first started teaching, my Creative Drama and Drama Therapy with Special Population classes consisted of one half to two thirds education majors. They had an open slate of electives from other disciplines outside the College of Education that they could pick from in order to learn hands-on skills for motivating children to learn. They chose courses in music, art, drama, sociology, psychology, and other areas that related to their natural abilities, interests, and crystallized intelligences which could enrich their future teaching in a wider sense. Within three years of my arrival at K-State all the education students in my classes disappeared. The state of Kansas mandated a change in the education curriculum, replacing electives from other disciplines with additional required education courses that focused on regulations and standards to help future teachers attain achievement levels on testing mandated by the state and No Child Left Behind. Instead of gathering new skills and materials to bring into their classrooms for enriching and inspiring their students, education majors’ vision and skills as educators has been restricted.

If students are being steered away from Gardner’s vision of Education that values deep understanding toward the more practical goal of finding of a job by parents, state boards, and university administration’s new business model, does this mean we, as educators, should be advising students away from courses in the arts? Away from exercising many of their intelligences that may or may not be obviously involved in what will become their day-to-day job description? Not if Daniel Pink is right about the paradigm shift to the Conceptual Age! The Conceptual Age requires the development and interaction of all of the intelligences for not only employment, but for sustained success and mastery in the job place. Theatre departments are actually on the cutting-edge of the new paradigm.

A fully rounded, grounded curriculum in theater that includes acting, dramatic literature, design, tech, directing, playwriting, theatre management, and criticism already entails training all of the intelligences and can incorporate ways of connecting many different disciplines and domains through creative understanding. Acting courses address bodily-kinesthetic, verbal-linguistic, interpersonal and intrapersonal intelligences. Set, costume, and lighting design as well as technical theatre courses mine logical-mathematical, visual-spatial, naturalist, and bodily kinesthetic intelligences. Management requires logical-mathematical, visual-spatial, and interpersonal intelligences. Playwriting, dramatic literature and criticism develop verbal-linguistic, interpersonal, intrapersonal, existential, and even the sequential, logical aspects of logical-mathematical intelligences. Dance/movement classes develop bodily-kinesthetic, visual-spatial, and musical intelligences. Directing courses, which teach how to put it all together, perhaps call upon the widest variety of intelligences as students learn to form an overall artistic vision for a production and communicate it to all the other artists in the theatre.

Hamlet tells us, the central purpose of theatre is “to hold, as ‘twere, the mirror up to nature,” making theatre a mirror for all of life (Hamlet, III, ii, 24-25). Drama can be said to be the study of human behavior embodied and reproduced for an audience to reflect on – which means that all the skills in all the domains required in life must be learned by the theatre student for that mirroring to be valid and true. Besides tapping into multiple intelligences, what does a theatrical production do, but provide us, the audience, with all of the Conceptual Age’s required elements: Design, Story, Symphony, Empathy, Play, and Meaning! These intelligences and elements which our students are learning to use skillfully in order to be able to function in this “mirror world” of theatre can be synthesized and transferred directly to the “real world” outside the theatre’s walls.

Beyond their theatre coursework, young theatre artists must be cross-trained outside their department in all the domains – humanities, social sciences, biological sciences, philosophy, ethics, and so on – so they can bring that knowledge back to the stage with understanding. In our approach to teaching within our departments we would do well to also teach our students how to weave what appear at first to them to be independent disciplines together symphonically (in a synthesis), so they can make these connections across the entire academic curriculum.

Finally, beyond advising our own students to develop their intelligences in as many domains and disciplines as possible, we, as faculty of the university, need to be proactively reaching out to faculty advisors of the rest of the student body to communicate with them about how the aptitudes of the Conceptual Age can be accessed so directly through our discipline. The case has not yet been made to the university at large and needs to be. Theatre departments offer invaluable resources to the entire student body. If students majoring in math, science, psychology, sociology, education, business, agriculture, and architecture were advised into a variety of theatre courses, they could develop a deeper understanding of design, story, symphony, empathy, play, and meaning and find new ways of accessing their intelligences.

I am starting to make this case on my campus. While I have lost the education majors who used to take my courses, I have actively connected with advisors from many different departments to explain the intelligences and aptitudes my courses can offer their students – and they have responded positively! My Creative Drama class which includes units on play and improvisation, storytelling, story drama, and puppetry, has been approved as a professional elective for Speech Language Pathology students who need (among other skills) to learn how to engage their clients through play, for Graduate Accounting majors who need to be able to work with others creatively, think outside of the box, and tell stories effectively in order to sell their ideas, and for Leadership Studies Minors who need to learn how to lead and participate creatively and positively in groups. It has also been approved for University General Education because it offers a structure for active learning, self-reflection, and interdisciplinary thought.

My Drama Therapy with Special Populations class, which brings in people with disabilities from the community once a week to participate in drama activities with K-State students, has become one of the most popular fine arts electives for pre-medical profession majors (This includes students who wish to be doctors, dentists, nurses, speech pathologists, nutritionists, physical therapists, and occupational therapists) because in addition to learning how to effectively, actively communicate understanding of important concepts through action to future clients who will need to know how to follow healthcare instructions, they learn empathy for others who are not like them, who are often stigmatized and dismissed from society, and they learn how to break down the barriers of communication through dramatic, playful means.

The psychology, family studies, and social work professors have realized how drama provides valuable skills their students need, but which they do not teach. They regularly send their students to our department to take creative drama, acting, improvisation, drama therapy with special populations, and other courses. I currently have two students in educational psychology who have opted to take graduate drama therapy courses as an integrated part of their doctoral program.

The word has gotten out to the professional world. I have been told that K-State Business School graduates who can say they have taken Creative Drama often get preference in hiring at certain Kansas City business firms who have been impressed with the flexibility and creativity of previous hires who were Creative Drama alums. I have also heard that a nursing school in Kansas City looks for applicants who have taken Drama Therapy with Special Populations at K-State.

I have even brought drama to the K-State Office of Evaluation. The Evaluators are researchers who handle the statistics and evaluation component of research projects run by professors in different departments across the university. Typically they have the logical-mathematical know-how while the professors they work with have the naturalist know-how. As in any working team, interpersonal miscommunications can happen on many levels, but none of the team members knew how to evaluate the social situation and develop more effective approaches. The Evaluators got so excited about learning how to deal with social issues through drama that they created a role-play presentation for their national conference last November to teach other evaluators a dramatic new way to access communication problems on teams. These statisticians have expanded their intelligences through drama, added to their employment skills, and bravely joined the Conceptual Age!

Our American culture has long been suspicious of the arts and our fine arts programs at the university level often languish from lack of funds, interest, and support. Instead of being on the “outs” of academia, our theatre programs have the opportunity to be in the center of education, to be providing the very educational components that are necessary for not only survival, but success in the 21st century. We as theatre educators need to use our highly developed multiple intelligences, as well as our aptitudes for story, empathy, play, design, symphony, and meaning to communicate our value to the new Conceptual Age both on campus and off.

References:

Diamond, J. (1997). Guns, germs, and steel: The fates of human societies. New York: W. W. Norton.

Gardner, H. (1991). The unschooled mind: How children think and how schools should teach. New York: Basic Books.

Gardner, H. (2006). Multiple intelligences: New horizons. New York: Basic Books.

Gardner, H. (2006). Five minds for the future. Boston: Harvard Business School Press.

Pink, D.H. (2006). A whole new mind: Why right-brainers will rule the future. New York: Riverhead Books.

Drama Therapy with Clients on the Autism Spectrum

Introduction

Autism, Asperger’s syndrome, and Pervasive Developmental Disorders (PDD) are most likely related neurological disorders that fall along the same spectrum. They involve disturbances in a number of areas, including an impairment in verbal and nonverbal communication skills, impairment in reciprocal social relationships, severe sensory integration problems, and a limited repertoire of activities and interests connected with repetitive or stereotyped movements (Frith, 2003). Autism is at the lower functioning end of the spectrum while Asperger’s syndrome is at the higher functioning end. PDD fits in somewhere in between and includes delayed language and a mix of symptoms and functioning levels.

Drama therapy can be one of the best interventions to help individuals who have autism spectrum disorders (ASD) learn social skills and come to understand the unwritten rules of social relationships that baffle them. In fact, drama was one of the very first techniques used in treatment. Hans Asperger the German doctor who first described the condition in 1944, created an educational program for the boys he was treating which involved speech therapy, drama, and physical education (Attwood, 1998). Unfortunately, Sister Viktorine, the director of the program, was killed as the ward on which she was working was destroyed in an allied bombing attack in World War II, so no record of exactly how she used drama survives (Attwood, 1998). At the very least, this early use of drama indicates an appreciation for the strengths it offers as an intervention.

Theoretical Reasons for the Use of Drama Therapy

The Mirror Neuron System Theory

For many years, the causes of ASD were a mystery. A recent theory suggests that ASD may be caused at least in part by impairment in the mirror neuron system (Gallese, Eagle, & Migone, 2005; Iacoboni & Dapretto, 2006; Oberman & Ramachandran, 2007; Ramachandran & Oberman, 2006.). Mirror neurons were discovered in the early 1990’s by a team of neuroscientists in Parma, Italy who were mapping individual neurons in the motor cortex of monkeys to see which neuron connected to which muscles/movements (Iacoboni, Molnar-Szakacs, Gallese, Buccino, Mazziotta, & Rizzolatti, 2005). The mirror neuron theory is important to look at in detail because the mirror neuron system is also theorized to be the origin of empathy, social understanding, and imitative learning (Goleman, 2006; Iacoboni, 2008), all abilities in which people on the autism spectrum are limited and all abilities which can be developed through drama therapy.

In the pre-motor cortex of the brain, where body movement is planned and initiated, there are “regular” motor neurons which fire only when an organism makes a purposeful movement, and there are mirror neurons which fire when the organism makes a purposeful movement and when it sees, hears, or in some way senses, the same action done by another organism (Gallese, Eagle, & Migone, 2005). (I say “organism” because mirror neurons have been found in mammals and other living creatures, not just human beings.)Essentially, this means that we “understand” the actions of others by simulating them in our own brains as if we were taking the action ourselves. For example, if you see a friend licking a strawberry ice cream cone on a hot summer day, you will understand the experience he is having on many different levels, because even though at that moment you do not have an ice cream cone in your hand and are not licking and tasting a cold, strawberry flavored treat, you have done a similar action in the past and the mirror neurons of your pre-motor cortex that are connected to your hand, wrist, lips, tongue, and mouth are all activated as you watch your friend in action.

In addition to helping us understand the actions of others, mirror neurons make it possible for us to understand what other people are feeling, in part, because emotions are expressed through actions: facial expressions, breathing, movement, body positions, etc. (Bloch, 1990; Ekman, 2003; Oberman, Winkielman, & Ramachandran, 2007). For instance, when a person smiles, mirror neurons are activated in the pre-motor cortex of whoever sees the smile, just as when a person cries, mirror neurons are activated in whoever sees or hears the crying (Goleman, 2006). However, mirror neurons have also been discovered in other areas of the brain, specifically in the cingulate and insular cortices, where emotions are processed (Ramachandran & Oberman, 2006). Experiments have shown that “certain neurons that typically fire in response to pain [in the anterior cingulate] also fired when the person saw someone else in pain” (Ramachandran & Oberman, 2006, p. 65).

Empathic connection is believed to be the result. We are able to understand what another person is feeling or thinking or doing – because our brain is mirroring virtually, what the other person’s brain (and body) is doing actually. In this way we are able to literally “put ourselves into the other person’s shoes” and see situations from the perspective of the other. Vittorio Gallese, one of the neuroscientists who discovered mirror neurons, calls this “a direct form of ‘experiential understanding’ of others” (Gallese, 2006, p. 1). He terms this modeling mechanism “embodied simulation” and believes it leads to “intentional attunement” or the ability to understand the motivations and intentions behind other peoples’ actions (Gallese, 2006). Gallese talks repeatedly about the “as if” experience that mirror neurons provide, in a manner reminiscent of the “as if” experience that master acting teacher Constantin Stanislavski spoke of as crucial for an actor to have in order to reproduce life-like and true emotions in the character he is portraying on stage (Stanislavski, 1961).

Another important ability that theoretically stems from mirror neurons is the ability to learn through imitation. This innate learning mechanism can be observed even in newborns who will automatically imitate the facial expressions of adults who engage their attention (Blakemore & Frith, 2005). At 12 months, typically-developing infants can predict the action goals of other people and imitate facial and hand gestures (Iacoboni & Depretto, 2006). Later our predisposition to imitate becomes crucial in our ability to learn to speak. Ramachandran and Oberman (2006) point out that language development in childhood requires the child to mirror and imitate the parents’ speech actions in order to transform the auditory signals of speech into words that can be spoken using lips, tongue, mouth, and breath. Social behaviors, sports, games, and physical skills are all learned by typically-developing children through imitation rather than through verbal description (Blakemore & Frith, 2005). In fact, dramatic play which typically-developing children automatically begin to engage in at about the age of 3 is a universal form of imitative learning (Bailey, 1993; Ginsburg & Opper, 1969).

Marco Iacoboni (2008) suggests that deficits in the mirror neuron system might be the cause of the inability to relate to and understand emotions of others in individuals who are diagnosed with ASD. He reports that as measured in fMRI (functional magnetic resonance imaging) brain scans, “children with autism had much lower activity in mirror neuron areas compared with typically developing children. Moreover, Mirella [the neuroscientist who ran the tests] found a clear correlation between activity in mirror neuron areas and severity of disease: the more severe the impairment, the lower the activity in mirror neuron areas” (p.176).

Ramachandran and Oberman (2006) of the Center for Brain and Cognition at the University of California, San Diego agree, noting that:

Mirror neurons appear to be performing precisely the same functions that seems to be disrupted in autism. If the mirror neuron system is indeed involved in the interpretation of complex intentions, then a breakdown of this neural circuitry could explain the most striking deficit in people with autism, the lack of social skills. The other cardinal signs of the disorder – absence of empathy, language deficits, poor imitation and so on – are also the kinds of thing you would expect to see if mirror neurons were dysfunctional. (p. 65).

Neuroscientists who subscribe to this theory do not believe that people with ASD have no mirror neurons; they believe that they either have less mirror neurons or the mirror neurons that they do have do not work correctly (Iacoboni & Dapretto, 2006; Ramachandran & Oberman, 2006).

If Mirror Neurons, Then Drama Therapy

Drama therapy actively engages mirror neurons because clients’ bodies are actively, physically engaged in the therapy process. As clients participate in and watch drama games and improvisations, they are often literally putting themselves “in another person’s shoes” by taking on the role of another character. If a client is acting out something that actually happened to him, his experiences are shared with the others in the group through the intentional attunement that occurs when his purposeful actions are observed by others. Through action, clients can generate new states of mind and experiment with new behaviors, reinforcing new brain connections, new social connections, and new understandings of themselves and others. A participant in The Spotlight Program, one of many dramatic arts programs springing up around the country for students with ASD, attests to this when he says, “I’ve gained friendships and learned new games, how to be more mature and how to interact with others” (North Shore ARC, 2008, p. 1). Another says, “I’ve learned to recognize myself in others” (North Shore ARC, 2008, p. 2).

If a dysfunction in the mirror neuron system is a cause or contributing factor to ASD, then drama therapy might be a perfect intervention precisely because it does use embodied, imitative learning, and allows for repeated rehearsal of skills in an enjoyable, playful way. One of the most important discoveries about the brain in the last 20 years is the plasticity of the brain: its ability to grow, change, and re-wire itself (Blakemore & Frith, 2005). The brain changes through use (or lack thereof); just as muscles change through exercise (or lack of exercise). This suggests that activities that encourage the use of mirror neurons which people with ASD possibly under-use would strengthen the mirror neurons they already possess and, perhaps, encourage the growth of new ones.

Temple Grandin (Grandin & Scardino, 1986; Grandin,1995), an expert in animal science and autism who is herself a highly functioning person with ASD, is a firm believer from her own experience that people who have ASD will not naturally develop social functioning and emotional relatedness, and, therefore, must be taught – the earlier the better. She credits her success in life to her mother’s patient and unrelenting training during her childhood and adolescence. She stresses in one her chapters of Unwritten Rules of Social Relationships, co-written with Sean Barron (2005), that “children with ASDs need live interaction in order for social skills to become ‘hard-wired’ in their brains. They learn by doing, through direct experience, much more than they learn by watching and listening” (p. 51).

The Theory of Low Connectivity between Brain Areas

Another theory focuses on the possibility of low connectivity or disconnections between areas within the perceptual, executive, and emotional centers of the brain (Baron-Cohen, 1997; Spice, 2004). These are areas that must work together to help us make social interconnections and understand each other in subtle, empathetic ways. Neuroscientists who espouse this theory believe that many of the behaviors seen in ASD may relate to poor connections between areas of the brain like the superior temporal sulcus, the orbito-frontal cortex and the amygdala where important information is processed and integrated with information flowing in from other areas of the brain (Baron-Cohen, 1997; Spice, 2004). The more serious/low functioning the person’s ASD, the more blocked or dysfunctional the connections between two or more areas (Spice, 2004).

Temple Grandin (Grandin & Baron, 2005) reports that her brain scan “shows that some emotional circuits between the frontal cortex and the amygdala just aren’t hooked up” (p. 40).She believes that “autism involves an atypical development of the midbrain and basal ganglia reward systems” (p. 41) which contributes to the disconnection in interpersonal relationships as well as repetitive thoughts and movements that are symptoms of many persons with ASD.

If Low Connectivity, Then Drama Therapy

If the issue is low connectivity between crucial brain areas, why use drama therapy as opposed to a different intervention? Whether the issue is mirror neurons or low connectivity, drama therapy works because it provides participants with numerous opportunities to rehearse and replay skills until the skill is learned and integrated into behavior. Through drama, this rehearsal is done in an enjoyable way and clients are positively engaged in the repetition as the connections and/or mirror neurons are strengthened.

Just because a disconnection exists between two or more areas in the brain does not mean a connection cannot be healed or another created somewhere else: that is the beauty of plasticity. Our brains grow from the time we are forming in the womb until our early 20’s with various periods of growth spurts and pruning (or cutting back) of the number of neurons and the kinds of neuron connections. Our brain continues to grow, albeit at a slower rate, throughout our adulthood, and often will grow and change at any age in response to an injury. All of these changes happen primarily in response to how our brain is used (Blakemore & Frith, 2005). A new skill becomes mastered and remembered only after long-lasting, sustained practice in small doses over time, usually past the point of overlearning (Willingham, 2004). “Practice, therefore, requires concentration and requires feedback about whether or not progress is being made” (Willingham, 2004, p.5).

Memories are formed when neurons in the brain form connections or networks that are used often enough that they become “wired together” or create a pattern which can easily be reactivated. The strength of a memory and the ease with which it can be accessed depends on how many times the original stimulus has been experienced (Levitin, 2006). More practice means stronger connections between the neurons in the brain and a stronger representation of that specific memory, be it of a fact, skill, behavioral response, understanding, or some other kind of learning. If people with ASD have difficulty creating connections between different brain areas or between neurons that need to form a pattern in order to be able to understand something (say, understanding the meaning behind tone of voice), then they will have to practice even harder and longer for the connections to form or for different connections to be constructed.

Neuroscientists looking at the arts and the brain have discovered that the arts are motivating to children because they create conditions in which attention can be sustained over longer periods of time compared with children involved in activities not found to be motivating (Posner, Rothbart, Sheese, & Kieras in Ashbury & Rich, 2008). With sustained attention, knowledge and skills can be practiced, learned, and remembered for future use. No matter how “good” a teaching method might potentially be, if students are bored by it, they will not pay attention long enough to learn from it. An additional benefit of the arts, particularly drama, is that participants receive feedback in the process of enacting a scene from the other actors and from the audience, as well as afterwards when the group discusses the scene and/or when they replay the scene with corrections (Jensen & Dabney, 2000; Posner et al, 2008).

Learning is more apt to “take” if it is associated with an emotional component, preferably a pleasant one, which arouses the attention (Jensen & Dabney, 2000; Levitin, 2006). Learning is shut down by distress because cortisol, a hormone created when we experience anxiety or trauma, interferes with memory formation in the hippocampus, a part of the brain that is primarily involved in memory creation (Zull, 2002). Drama is enjoyed by many clients on the ASD spectrum, so they engage in dramatic activities with enthusiasm.

Practical Applications of Drama Therapy

Adapting Drama Techniques for Clients who have ASD

Because of the socio-emotional and sensory integration issues involved with ASD, the drama therapist needs to be aware of how to make appropriate adaptations and accommodations for her clients. These adaptations are necessary no matter which drama therapy techniques or methods are used. Use of concrete activities and visual and kinesthetic media engage attention while a mono-channel approach to information will lessen sensory overload. Routine and ritual ensure predictability and the feeling of safety for participants.

The most important concept to keep in mind is that clients with ASD need to use concrete, rather than abstract activities (Bailey, 1993). Concrete games use actual objects, rather than imaginary ones, so there is something real to focus on and manipulate. This means working memory does not have to hold onto an invisible image while also thinking of something to do with it; the visual object can be focused on and related to directly. An example of the difference between a concrete and an abstract form of the same game can be found in the appendix at the end of this chapter.

Related to this, people with ASD tend to use concrete symbols rather than abstract ones for meaning making (Grandin & Scardino, 1986; Grandin, 1995). A visual image or another type of sensory image can come to represent a concept if it is associated with a related experience. Temple Grandin (1995) reports that she can understand the concept of the “give-and-take” of personal relationships only when she imagines the visual symbol of doors and windows. An example of how a concrete symbol might be used in a dramatic enactment could be using pillows to represent stresses that are building up in a character who is not communicating his feelings clearly to others in a scene. Each time the character is not clear or honest or each time he avoids expressing his feelings with words, a pillow could be added to his load until he cannot see the other actors or move easily around the space.Whenever he expresses himself appropriately and the situation begins to be worked out because communication is clear, a pillow could be taken off the pile, making his load lighter and easier to handle.

Temple Grandin (1995) believes that most people with ASD are visual rather than verbal thinkers. She says she thinks first in pictures and then must translate the pictures into words. This makes her manner of processing the world very different from those of us who transfer our thoughts into language as our major symbolic mode. Lev Vygotsky, the Russian developmental psychologist and educator, believed that language and thought (which is internalized language) develop originally from social communication with others about objects and experiences into egocentric speech (when a child talks to herself out loud) and finally into inner speech, the soundless thought processes inside our heads (as cited in Dixon-Krauss,1996). At some point in this transition, probably between the ages of five and ten, the brain switches from relying primarily on visual processing to verbal processing. In 1988, Graham Hitch did a study on visual working memory in typically-developing children and discovered that five-year-olds used mental images more often to remember information than ten-year olds, who relied primarily on words (as cited in Robertson, 2002). Perhaps the difficulty with speech that many people with ASD experience is caused in part by their inability to move from that early social language to egocentric speech and then to internal verbal thought. They may stay with the original visual and visceral thinking we all naturally used as infants.

In any case, people with ASD seem to be “right-brain thinkers.” That is, they tend to score high in fluid intelligence and in nonverbal thinking skills (visual, spatial, and pattern-making) (Grandin, 1995). Often, they are visual and kinesthetic learners. Some are adept at creating with their hands, but others have motor planning difficulties (Grandin & Scariano, 1986). Pantomime and movement activities, therefore, might be a good starting point for a new group because they will access communication strengths and, after group members feel accepted and comfortable, new skills using verbal techniques can be built.

Sherry Haar (2005, personal communication), a professor of apparel and textiles at Kansas State University, has created a line of therapeutic costumes to promote sensory integration, motor development, and cognitive skills. The thematic designs of the costumes (bug and butterfly) allow the child to use his imagination while practicing developmental skills. The costumes include a variety of textures, resistance bands, and weights important for the tactile and proprioceptive senses. Fine motor skills are encouraged through the manipulation of closures (i.e., zippers, buttons, snaps, and lacing) and objects (i.e., antennae and eyes on the helmet). Shapes in a variety of colors and sizes aid in cognitive development. The cape part of the costume encourages the child to “fly,” thus promoting balance and other gross motor skills.

Most drama therapists have costumes, scarves, props, parachutes, and other manipulative objects that they incorporate into dramatic scenes. These can serve the same purpose as Haar’s therapeutic costumes by engaging clients visually and kinesthetically in their characters and by serving as set pieces or visual/kinesthetic symbols to enhance meaning. By the same token, puppets and sandtray figures can be used to play out the drama visually at a distance from the clients, making them feel more in control of the drama.

Puppets provide safety, distance, and a sense of personal control that can be missing in dramatic activities which are fully embodied. I had an actor with ASD in one of my performing companies who actually learned to talk as a child using a puppet. Other than echolalic repetitions of other words people said to him, he did not speak on his own and never initiated communication with others until one day when he was ten years old. His mother had taken him shopping in the mall and they happened to pass a kiosk in which there were marionettes on sale. He walked right up to one of them and started a full-fledged conversation. His mother realized immediately that something out of the ordinary was happening and bought him the puppet. When they took it home, he continued talking to it so she bought him more! He conversed with them as well. Through several years of talking with these inanimate theatrical beings, who did not push him to communicate, but just patiently listened to him, he learned how to initiate speech and then began to talk to people. When I met him, he was a senior in high school. He was so fluent and comfortable with speech that I would never have suspected his late start with language, if his mother had not told me their story.

While typically-developing people can be intimidating with their insistence that children with ASD comply with their mysterious customs of communication and relationships in the neurotypical world, puppets are not. Most of them are on a smaller scale than a living person so interacting with your own or another’s puppet is not threatening. A puppet on the hand of a client is clearly visible and under his control. When it comes to performing, being hidden behind a puppet stage can take the pressure off performers, as they know the audience can only see the puppet, not the puppeteer.

People who have ASD tend to be over-sensitive to sights, sounds, smells, and touch. Loud or sudden noises can be painful to their ears and certain smells are perceived as very offensive (Grandin, 1995; Grandin & Scariano,1986). When in a state of sensory overload, they may need what Donna Williams calls the “mono-channel approach” – to block out all but one type of sensory input in order to pay attention (Grandin,1995). While many typically developing people do better with multisensory teaching, this may be too confusing for someone with ASD. Simplify your presentation. Use one mode of delivery at a time: speak or demonstrate or show a diagram; do not do all three at the same time.

Because individuals with ASD are easily over-stimulated and prefer routine, the variety of activities and the amount of sensory stimulation in a drama therapy group can be overwhelming. Check out how much sensory stimulation is in your therapy space. If there are lots of toys, props, or odds and ends lying around, clean them up or cover them up. Simplify the visual design of the room so it is not distracting. Limit the distracting sounds inside and outside the room, if you can. Avoid drama games that incorporate sudden, loud noises, or busy physical gestures which would over-stimulate.

As much as possible, follow a similar routine in your lesson plan from week to week. Begin with an opening ritual that stays the same: raising the drama curtain or bringing down the curtain of silence or singing a song of welcome. If the group has a favorite drama game, it could be played at the same point in the session each week. Have clients sit in the same location in the circle. Keep the arrangement of the room the same. Always place the audience and performance areas in the same place. In addition to ending with a closing ritual, the last part of a session might be used to review what was accomplished and to plan for the next one so group members are prepared for what will be happening when they meet again.

Clients with ASD need to feel in control of the amount and type of stimulation they are getting. Provide a quiet, safe place in the room where there are few visual or auditory distractions where an over-stimulated individual can go to get away from the group, if necessary. Warmth and deep pressure tend to lessen arousal and create relaxation. You could provide a mat or heavy quilt for the client to wrap himself up in or some big pillows or bean bag chairs he could burrow under. If he needs to spin, allow him to spin in an area where he will not bump into anything and where the floor is not slippery.

Understanding and exploring body boundaries can be another area that needs work for clients. Often people with ASD are not sure where their body ends and the chair they are sitting in begins (Grandin, 1995). Movement exercises can help work through this confusion. Movement, in fact, can be another calming/focusing technique. Scarves, coopera-bands (also called buddy bands), parachutes, and body sox can be useful tools for exploring movement and body boundaries in creative ways. They can be used on their own or incorporated into role plays.

The only way to learn how to use clear, expressive communication is to have a clear model and to be encouraged to practice. The drama therapist must take the lead and be the role model for expressiveness. Play drama games that will enhance vocal, facial, and body expressiveness. Practice gestures and sounds that will communicate emotions and ideas. Provide a place to learn give and take between the clients.

Many times, people with ASD feel those of us who are “neurotypical” are very strange beings. How we think and relate to each other does not make any sense to them. Temple Grandin (2002) says growing up she viewed many cultural customs, behaviors, and fashions as ISPs – Interesting Sociological Phenomenons. This theme is echoed by Chris Banner, a K-State music faculty member who has Asperger’s syndrome. He says,

The ordinary person probably has no real idea of what it is like to be autistic and to have to live by rules of social interaction that they have been explicitly taught because they cannot figure it out and understand it by themselves.  The ordinary person does not understand how it is to live with people trying to force them to be something they inherently are not and then punishing them for being different.  The ordinary person does not know what it is like to live with no theory of mind, as the term is, and to live in constant fear of doing some simple little thing wrong or being different in some way, and then to live in constant fear of having to suffer terribly for it.  It is living with the constant fear of being hurt for no apparent reason that is so hard to take. (Personal communication, 2009).

Role play can be the perfect way for people with ASD to come to a better understanding of the neurotypical world’s ISPs. Practice putting themselves in another person’s or character’s shoes can become the first steps toward understanding how the rest of the world feels, thinks, and relates, a way to begin developing and testing out a theory of mind. Grady Bolding (2007), a K-State drama major who has ASD, says this about his experience with theatre, “Only recently did I figure that the world of theater helped bring me out of my shell, since I got free crash courses in interpersonal communications with every script. Today, I speak like anybody else, but I still come across a roadblock here or there, like trying to find the difference between ‘joking around’ and ‘being rude’ – that’s a doosey.” (Bolding, 2007, p. 3).

By the same token, the drama therapist needs to better understand the ASD experience in order to maintain our patience and respect toward them when they seem inflexible and rigid. Since those of us who are typically-developing have normal mirror neuron systems, we have the ability to put ourselves in their shoes so that we can understand how confusing and threatening the world is to them. Two fiction books which beautifully and richly capture the thought processes and emotions of the ASD world are Mark Haddon’s The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time and Elizabeth Moon’s The Speed of Dark. I highly recommend both.

References

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