Empowering Students in the Middle School Theatre Classroom
By Georgina Christou
A few years ago, almost ten years into my teaching career, I looked around at my teaching space — the rigorous MS theatre curriculum I had implemented, the grading system, the continued success of the annual musical production, the yearly drama trips overseas, and the tri-yearly festival I hosted in Taiwan — and I wondered, which students were benefiting from this? Which were not? But, more importantly — which students should be benefitting from all of this?
I have always been adamant that I am a teacher of educational theatre, not Broadway, and I am not interested in churning out the next celebrity star or diva. I was fortunate in my teaching career to find myself employed very early on at a prestigious independent, international school where the performing arts are valued, as evidenced by the budget and resources that were available to me. Naturally, where prestige is concerned, people can often find a nature of competitiveness, and I regrettably admit that this is how I initially grounded my program. Thankfully, as I grew as an educator, I was able to reflect on whether I was offering valuable opportunities for all my students regardless of ability or perceived inability.
After completing my teacher training as a secondary school theatre teacher in 2007, I set out on a mission to help carry the banner of the importance of educational theatre, in solidarity with my fellow theatre teachers. To do this, I implemented a strict grading system from grade six onwards, and offered specialist theatre trips only to those who could represent the program most impressively. Auditions for the school productions were competitive, casting only the most talented in the lead roles and cutting those who were deemed less capable. After all, one of the hardest things about being a theatre teacher is how exposed we are when we direct a production, and as a result, we may be inclined to cast only those who will best represent the program and us as the director.
As I approached my second year of teaching in the UK, I was appointed as the teacher in charge of theatre, having been hired as a newly qualified theatre teacher in a department of two. In that same year, we had an influx of refugee students enroll at the school. Andrew* was a quiet boy who did not speak a lick of English, but I felt an exceptionally strong desire to take him under my wing and help him master his English-speaking skills as best as possible. I took a risk and encouraged him to participate in our musical production of Aladdin, thinking that the experience might help. Although his part was small, he worked hard to learn his lines and follow stage directions. As a result, his confidence grew exponentially, as did his abilities in the English language. That same year Stacey, an aggressive ninth grader and the only student to this day who has ever made me cry, enrolled in my GCSE (the British equivalent to the USA AP qualification) class. Although most of her school days were spent in an isolation unit, having been removed from most classes, when she could attend theatre class her hostility, inappropriate behavior, and explicit language was deliberately directed towards her peers and myself. Regardless of my personal feelings towards her, I held her to the same standards and care as everyone else in the room, but notably excluded her from the extra-curricular offerings on account of her behavior.
I moved overseas at the start of my third teaching year and continued to teach middle and high school, including IGCSE and IB Theatre. As a teacher, I still felt I had so much to prove with regard to the grades of my students and the productions I would direct. One day, however, a communication from the UK triggered a change within. Stacey contacted me. She had two things she wanted to tell me: firstly, Andrew had passed away in a road traffic accident the year after I had left the UK, and secondly, she wrote of the profound impact that the theatre program had on her during an extremely difficult time in her life. My class had given her a reason to come to school and yet I felt immeasurable guilt in knowing I could have done more.
In my fourth year of teaching, I met the most incredible student in my IB theatre class. They were heads and tails more clever than I could ever aspire to be, and they were the most proficient theatre student I had yet to encounter with regard to their performance and theory of theatre. A few months into the term, they announced that they would be withdrawing from my theatre class and instead enrolling in an art class, which they felt they were terrible at. They explained that they did not need theatre anymore as they already knew they were going to ace it. When I thought about this, I realized that a student like this could, and would thrive in any subject or facet of school life. If they were to be cast in the school productions, they would undoubtedly be assigned the most notable roles. And yet, they recognized the truth in that they wouldn’t have as much growth in this subject as they would in another.
When I moved to my second international school, I wanted to take stock of what my students had taught me, to build a program that would be grounded in what I truly believed educational theatre should be. I wanted to create a program that would allow those who needed it the most to really be given the opportunities to thrive. After all — how was I really empowering all students if I was only offering opportunities for the highest achievers? What would happen if I empowered all students, able or not as able, in the classroom or on the stage? What would happen if I cast the lesser capable students in main roles? Would they succeed if I just believed in them? What would it matter if they failed? How may I unintentionally limit some students? What was more important — the process or the product? What impact would this really have on my program as a whole?
Ten years later and I no longer grade my students. Instead, they simply receive a satisfactory or unsatisfactory grade marker, and, despite common conceptions about the necessity of grades, I have found that they participate with the same degree of effort as they did before, if not more. The students continue to work through a varied and challenging curriculum with interest and commitment to every single task. For the one-act play productions, there are no auditions, students simply sign up and are cast randomly. For my musical productions, competitive auditions have been eliminated — students are simply told that by entering the room they will automatically be cast in the production. The students assigned ‘lead roles’ are rotated each year and the participants are very aware of this philosophy, which they support and accept. Participation in the productions has continued to draw large numbers, with many of the same students remaining committed for each year of middle school. In many cases, we forgo the terminology of ‘lead role’ or ‘chorus’ in favor of everyone being part of an ensemble. The element of collaboration and community goes from strength to strength each year.
In my experience, the overall rigor, and quality of the program and productions have not been negatively impacted. If anything, it has strengthened the growth and achievements of all of the MS theatre students and the program as a whole.
Based on my experience, and what I have learnt so far, I offer these questions and suggestions for your theatre program.
Questions to consider:
- How are you empowering and offering opportunities for growth to all your students in your Middle School classroom?
- How does theatre in an educational setting differ from professional theatre?
Suggestions and thoughts for your MS Drama program:
- Eliminate grades. You honestly don’t need them. If a student likes you and your subject, they will respect the program and want to achieve.
- Invest time in building relationships with your students — everything after that will come easy.
- Find ways to celebrate every single student at some point — there is nothing better in the world than being seen.
- Begin building the idea of an ensemble into the theatre classroom or production rehearsal space from day one. Tread carefully when using vocabulary such as ‘lead ‘or ‘main’ part. I have avoided using these terms for over 10 years. I need all students to know they matter.
- Alternate the students who take on lead roles each production — this will build your program and encourage all to participate.
- Implement a ‘no cut’ policy (find a place for every student to be involved, whether this is backstage, onstage, front of house, etc.)
- Process over product — this can never be emphasized enough because if the process is good, so too will the product be.
- Never underestimate your students — they will continuously amaze you if given the chance.
*Names of students have been changed.
Georgina Christou is originally from London, UK but has been teaching Drama internationally since 2009. She holds an MA in Education from The College of New Jersey, an MA in Theatre from Houston University, and is currently completing a doctorate (EdD) in Educational Theatre at New York University.
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