Today–the most gorgeous of sunny spring days in weeks–I took my over-scheduled daughter to school.  She is 4 and a half, creative, independent, driven…and hates schedules.

We pulled into a parking spot right on time.  I had about five minutes to get her out of the car along with her car seat and into school on time.

But…

The sun was shining and I saw the tap of her toes on the back of the seat.  Instead of pulling the key from the ignition, I turned the music up and unclipped her from her seat, opening the car doors so the music cascaded out to meet the sun.  There we were, in a parking lot, dancing to Irish fiddling simply because we could.  We had three extra minutes so why not?

We both walked into school with our toes still tapping and a smile across our faces.

All because we gave ourselves three minutes of unscheduled artistic creation.  We moved our bodies in the sunlight.  She didn’t see the grimaces of stressed parents as they drove by to drop off their own children.  She didn’t see the crumbs under the car seat or my pile of work papers in the front seat.  She didn’t see the foolishness of dancing in a parking space.  She saw the creative moment, and took it for her own.

If a three minute creative dance break can work wonders for just one child and mother, what can it do in an entire classroom?  Or an office?  Or your lunch room?  You tell me.

Second, let’s talk about this Research Dearth.

One of the challenging parts of consulting about theatre with young children is not the consulting itself, but the dearth of substantial research about the topic.  We are expected, after all, to support our assumptions not just with our practices and working knowledge, but with the theory and statistics.  Expect, of course, they don’t really exist in this field.

Sure, there’s research about the use of theatre with adults, teens, and youths.  There’s even research about whether being involved in theatre (or any art, for that matter) makes them smarter or better people.  There’s research about young children and their developmental process and the joy they receive from the arts, the increased math potential from listening to music (thank you Little Einstein for taking that concept overboard and poisoning us with poor imitations of the real thing).  What doesn’t exist is research specifically correlating the developmental process of young children and their participation in process-oriented theatre arts.  Okay, that’s a little white lie, there’s some out there, but it’s really really hard to find and exists as one-liners in dense multi-chapter studies.

I’ve got this dearth particularly in mind today as I work my way through Theatre, Education, and the Making of Meanings by Anthony Jackson.  This text is not about young children, nor is it even about process-oriented theatre.  But it does offer some truly interesting perspective about the development of educational theatre over history, the progress of its theories, and the ongoing dichotomy between the “art” of educational theatre arts and the “education” of educational theatre arts.

I’ll keep you posted as I keep on (it’s rather dry so who knows how long it’ll take me!) but here’s my favorite quote so far.  It happens to be from Brecht, not the author of this text:

the contrast between learning and amusing oneself is not laid down by divine rule;…theatre remains theatre, even when it is instructive theatre, and in so far as it is good theatre it will amuse.

I think we educators of young children can concur…the best learning does indeed take place when learning is a joy.

Since she’s so active and both sides of her family are naturally slender I’ve never worried about the obesity epidemic as is pertains to my own child.  I know she needs to play sports, hike, and dance so she’ll grow into a women with a strong body image.  We are a family that eats very healthy so I also don’t worry about that.  But when I look in my rear view mirror as I drive her to school and instead of happily chatting to herself, kicking the chair seat or day dreaming, she is sitting like a listless pile of goo, then I worry.

We all need time to sit and day dream.  We all need to spend some time sitting in cozy corners reading books and coloring.  But to sit listlessly seems, well, boring and counterproductive to a happy life.

She only sits like this in the car.  When she’s been in the car far too much over too many days.  I shouldn’t feel guilty because it can’t be helped: I have to work, she has to go to school, we like to visit relatives and museums.  All this takes time in the car.  But is it too much time in the car?

According to various websites (both reliable and not) it appears that the typical American spend about 30 minutes commuting each way to work.  It’s safe to assume our children spend about the same amount of time.  That’s an hour every day sitting immobilized in the back seat of a car.

When I notice my daughter turn listless, instead of focusing on my guilt, I talk to her.  We talk about life, sing, tell jokes, make up stories.  Ah ha, and here we are at the point I’m trying to make:  We can’t avoid our commutes altogether but we can use them well.  Tell stories together.  Or, if you’re uncomfortable digging up the remnants of Jack and the Bean Stalk out of your childhood memories, find a CD of stories from your local bookstore.  Children love to listen to stories as much as watch them.  My daughter loves to have me tell her a story while she’s lying in bed; her imagination comes to life. And so does mine.

So it comes down to this: if you’re not in a position to get up and act out stories together, it can be just as fun and beneficial to tell them together.  Stories don’t have to be real; they can be very silly.  And you can revisit them the next day and revise them as you go. Besides, talking about a flying polka-dotted baby monster who eats bats is far more fun than fuming about the traffic you’re stuck in.

Imagination is more important than knowledge. For while knowledge defines all we currently know and understand, imagination points to all we might yet discover and create.

Albert Einstein

The advantage being that we set out with a goal and met it: we focused on “saying yes” (as the title of the workshop promised) along with guiding/coaching and trusting oneself.  These all came up on their own as part of the creative process.

The disadvantage being that we discovered what we forgot to include…the purpose of doing PictureBook Plays.  We were so focused on sharing the practical portions that we neglected the theory.  All it needed was a few sentences and we could have at least covered the basic theory to really drive the importance of process-oriented theatre home.

So, for those of you who have been following this blog, or, better yet, were at our presentation, here’s a late-night primer for you.

Process-Oriented Theatre is an essential art form in the early childhood classroom because:

• Given the chance to make their own choices and decisions about all aspects of a story (character, blocking, words, sounds, physical engagement,props,etc.) children are given power over their own worlds and begin to understand that they also have power over the real world.
• With the self-confidence of empowerment comes the ability to make new and challenging choices in life.
• Students learn to communicate with their peers and teachers as collaborators and creators.
• As an audience member (and scene partner) we develop the ability to generously appreciate the artistry of others.
• Students develop empathy.
• Making sense of a story translates very easily into making sense of the world.
• Children deserve to have their artistic decisions and creations treated with respect as essential works of art.  As children who are respected by others, they grow into people who respect others.

Trust me, this is all written somewhat haphazardly late at night after playing hooky so we could take our very patient three-year old assistant to the white house, monuments and museums.  We’ve said it much better in our book.  But it’s enough, for now, because we share this pedagogy not simply to give you pro-active ways to include theatre in your curriculum but because we believe theatrical opportunities are essential for the development of whole children.

Recently, I had the opportunity to watch a drama teacher work with five year olds in an after school drama class.  They took a picture book, Caps for Sale, and assigned each student a part.  I double checked: the teacher had chosen the children based on how well she judged their ability to remember lines, speak loudly, and follow her (the adult’s) directions.  The “extra” children, who now knew they weren’t capable of these skills, were assigned activities such as making hats, painting the tree and caring for other props.

Now, before you say, “What’s wrong with this scenario?” consider what PictureBook Plays presents as process:

• After you read and become familiar with a particular story, children are asked what parts would they like to try out, what props will they use?
• When they “act out” the story, they take charge of the story.  Perhaps there are three peddlers – perhaps a child is even a tree or a hat – the difference is in the choice.
• Children take charge of the process and in that process gain content.

And the content?  Self-assuredness, learning how to make a choice, and maybe even discovering how to take the “risk” of speaking loudly enough to be proud of being a peddler.  All this packaged up nicely becomes a child saying, “I am capable.”

Now go back and look at the process I observed in the after school program and decide for yourself what sort of content is the result of that particular teacher-led dramatic programming.

*Dodge, Colker, & Heroman, 2000. Creative curriculum for early childhood:  connecting content, teaching and learning. (3^rd ed). Washington, DC: Teaching Strategies.

The scene went something like this:

Black Cat: Meow.

Mama: Oh, hello kitty.

Black Cat: I’m a kitten in the water. Meow.

Mama: Oh, little kitten. What are you doing in the water?

Black Cat: Meow. I’m floating in a box in the river. You go fishing.

Mama: Okay. Here, I’ll tie this ribbon to this wand and it can be my fishing pole.  Tralala, I like fishing. Oh, I didn’t catch a fish.  I’ll try again.

Black Cat: Now I grab onto it and you rescue me.

Mama: Oh, little kitten.  You don’t belong in the river.  Grab onto my fishing line and I’ll pull you to shore!

Black Cat grabs on and together we pretend to pull her ashore.  She snuggles into my arms.

Black Cat: Meow.

Mama: I’m so glad I rescued you.  You don’t belong in the water.

Black Cat: You always wanted a black kitten to love.

Mama: I always wanted a black kitten to love and here you are.

We repeated this scene several times, each time initiated by my daughter.  And each time, we incorporated the things we discovered in previous tellings, adding elements of character, story and place.  This allowed the story to evolve, create deeper meaning, and gave Avi the opportunity to create a character with a story attached.

For example, the second time around, I already understood that the reason I was fishing was not to catch a fish but to rescue the kitten so I could incorporate this into the dialogue, “Oh, Black Kitten!  You don’t belong in the water; I need to rescue you.  Here, I have a fishing pole.  Grab onto the line!” I also understood that I was searching for a black kitten because I wanted someone to love.

As her guide, I helped Avi achieve the following moments of understanding:

• Characters in stories have feelings that effect what they do.
• Stories can be changed and developed over time.
• Her input is important and I value it.
• Stories have endings.
• Characters are specific.  Her kitty wasn’t just any kitty, it was black, young (a kitten), lost, and searching for love.  I wasn’t just any mama, I was looking for someone to love.

As her mama (and primary teacher) I was reminded that my daughter isn’t always playing a generic kitty or puppy.  She may have a greater purpose and if I take the time to act out this purpose with her, it will strengthen her being as a strong, creative, emotional, perceptive person.

The concept that is difficult for adults to understand, and remember since we did it once, is that when that block becomes a phone, it is no longer a block!  It is a phone.   When children see others dressed as something else for Halloween, when we ask them to dress up, or they volunteer to “be” a superhero, a ladybug, a bus; what adults need to understand is that the child “IS” that thing.   The line between real and pretend is blurred during these years; and can cause children inner confusion and stress (sometimes what we think is sugar overload may just be “I’m tired of being a bus – a real bus”!)

Dramatic play work in the classroom can give young children the opportunity to try out “BE-ing” other things.  Depending upon the picture book chosen, a child can try being an animal, an adult, or even a tree or a hat.  But, they know it’s contained, with the likelihood of being joyful, because PictureBook Plays is temporary, it’s voluntary, and it’s safe.

But what I found really interesting was one exec’s decision to bring in new, young writers in order to mentor their writing process: to help them learn to communicate ideas to children without using their war torn lives as the backdrop.  How does one talk about a family member disappearing unexpectedly without bringing in soldiers?  And can you have that family member return when, in real life, they never do?

Kuttab, a big, gentle man whose suit pants are perpetually rumpled, told me he specifically wanted to work with untrained writers like Awadallah. He knew that his head writer, Nada Al-Yassir, who was raised in Canada and has produced some short films, could on her own churn out enough Sesame-appropriate scripts, but he was pursuing a bigger goal. Developing an independent television and film industry, he said, was a crucial step in building a Palestinian state, and he told me he thought that if his writers could learn to write hopeful, engaging stories for kids, it would benefit them as much as the viewers.

In other words, learning to express oneself through symbols, allegories, movement, and interactions which can take on greater/universal meaning for an audience is beneficial not just for the audience, but for the creating artist.  Mr. Kuttab is helping to encourage a new generation of artists who can reach beyond reality and into dreams.  So, when they figure out how to tell the story of a missing family member (who may or may not return) in a way that is removed from reality, they begin to dream of possibility.  And that is how one changes the world.  It is only by reaching beyond the starkness of reality into possibility that hopes and dreams are born and someday become a new reality.

I’m not implying that Sesame Street can solve the political unrest in the world, the millions of murdered children and uprooted families.  Or that Mr. Kuttab’s vision alone will forge for him the stabilized Palestinian state he’s reaching for.  But this article is a nice reminder of how important art can be for the well-being of the world, and how nice it is to see art in action from a major corporation for the benefit of both children and artists.

All that being said, I hope that, eventually, Sesame Street will be able to reinvent their original concept of a combined Palestinian-Israeli Street for the children of that region.  By continuing their work within current cultural boundaries, it gives me hope that someday those mentored writers (and their policy makers) will be willing to reach across the walls, dream a little higher, and try again.