Monthly Archives: April 2013

Improvisation, Teaching, and Learning, Part 2: The Dangers of “No…but”

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OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERALast week, I started a series on Improvisation, Teaching, and Learning. You can read my first post here. Today, I want to dig a bit deeper into the idea of “Yes…and” by focusing specifically on the dangers of it’s opposite: the “No…but.”

In our current educational climate, it can be pretty difficult to practice the ethic of “Yes…and.” Regulations, hyper standardization, furloughs, ahistorical attacks on teacher quality, and the transitory nature of school leadership create a frigid atmosphere for accepting and building on other people’s offers. Instead, it becomes easier and easier to say “No…but.” This blocking move of “No…but” as a teacher often involves moves like keeping our heads down, closing our classroom doors, not volunteering for committees, adhering strictly to union protocols, not having our eyes and ears open for times to make connections, and giving way to stale curricula that we know doesn’t serve us or our students. These moves are understandable when considering the current circumstances mentioned above that many teachers face, but I would argue that it is precisely within these kinds of constraining circumstances that we need to employ an improvisational ethic.

Madsen says that blocking “is a way of trying to control the situation instead of accepting it…the critic in us wakes up and runs the show.” On the surface, this makes complete sense! The situation within a school is not good, not supportive, difficult, and our answer, as teachers, is to wake up the inner critic and defend against the sometimes dire situation in some way. Madsen writes, “We block when we say no, when we have a better idea, when we change the subject, when we correct the speaker, when we fail to listen, or when we simply ignore the situation.” Ironically, these moves, the ones that may even feel right in the moment, don’t move the situation forward. They don’t serve to fix the problem. They don’t make us feel better. Instead, they entrench the difficulty.

And it is so frustratingly easy to say “No…but!” Isn’t it? I am shocked by how often I find myself saying “no…but” in my personal life, let alone my professional one. I can’t tell you how many times I say “no…but” to my kids when I really could say yes. My kids ask if we can go for a bike ride in the park. My answer, “No, not now,” when we really could go. My kids make a suggestion for dinner. My response, “No…but how about this?” when we really could have gone with their suggestion. There are other more subtle blocks that I catch myself doing as well. I may not return a phone call or an email because of the challenging nature of it, for example. Or I may not take my students up on an idea they have for what we should do in class. In these situations, my eyes and ears aren’t open for the opportunity that is presenting itself. I am focused inward on myself, not outward to the collective. So what would happen if I said “Yes…and” to these things?

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAWhen I think about how I block my kids, the first thing I realize is how much less angst and frustration and just plain whining there would be if I said “Yes…and.” I also think about how me saying no is basically communicating to the kids that I am in control of the situation, that I know better than them, and that I will make the decisions for them. Now, don’t get me wrong, there are times when I do know better and no is the right response, but I have found that I can say no a lot less and in doing so, I honor self-determinacy. The “No…but” response sets up the potential for my kids to keep coming back to me for permission for things because they are afraid that if they don’t ask and do it on their own, I might get upset or punish them. Or, the exact opposite will happen where they will never consult me for anything, and just go off and do it on their own, because of the fear that I will say no and block the idea in the first place. I don’t want either of these scenarios. I want kids who feel in control of their lives and who see me as someone that they want to come to and consult.

I want to support my students in this way too. When they come to me and suggest an alternative to an assignment, more often than not, I need to accept that offer and build on it. When they don’t seem to be following through on homework, I can’t block that with my inner-critic. I need to accept it and build on it. When I don’t seem to have the best work relationship with a student, I need to open up, say “Yes…and” to the challenge and see what is possible. When I have a particularly challenging relationship with a colleague, I need to look and listen for those opportunities when I can share control with him or her. Ultimately, that move will bring me far closer to a positive end result.

Tomorrow, when you go into work, challenge yourself to say “Yes…and” to as many situations as possible. Work to accept the offers that are being made to you by your students, colleagues, and administrators and build on them in a positive, open way. This will feel funny at first, and it will be hard work. That’s ok. Keep doing it. Saying “Yes…and” will become more natural over time, and you will reap the benefits of it.

Next week, I’ll explore the often over-looked importance of the “and” in “Yes…and.”

Improvisation, Teaching, and Learning: Part 1

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Teaching and Learning as Improvisation

Over the next few weeks, I will be exploring how adopting the practices – the habits of mind and body – of improvisation as a teacher and as students can profoundly change the feel of the work, the culture of a class, and the quality of the learning for the students and the teacher.

First, a quick primer on improv. Improv is acting without a script, thinking on one’s feet, responding in the moment without premeditation or a preconceived response. In improvisational theater, performers create scenes simply by building on whatever their fellow actors are offering in the moment, no script, no net.  Viola Spolin, one of the luminaries of improvisational theater, helps us see how the sensibilities of improv extend from the actor to the teacher and the student. To her, improvisation is:

Playing the game; setting out to solve a problem with no preconception as to how you will do it; permitting everything in the environment (animate and inanimate) to work for you in solving the problem; it is not the scene, it is the way to the scene; a predominate function of the intuitive…”playing by ear;” process as opposed to result; not ad-lib or “originality” or “making it up by yourself”…setting object in motion between players as in a game; solving of problems together; the ability to allow the acting problem to evolve the scene; a moment in the lives of people without needing a plot or storyline for the communication; an art form; transformation; brings forth details and relationships as organic whole; living process.

Professor Patricia Ryan Madson, founder of Stanford’s improvisational troupe, builds on Spolin’s already expansive understanding, “A good improviser is someone who is awake, not entirely self-focused, and moved by a desire to do something useful and give something back and who acts up on this impulse….[someone who] play(s) fearlessly, and…work(s) with greater ease. ”

Whenever there is a difficult situation within a school or a classroom, I inevitably come back to thinking that if the teachers, students, and administrators of that school lived more of an improvisational life, the difficulty that is being experienced at the time would either not exist or turn more readily into a positive learning opportunity. And I am continually pleasantly surprised to witness what happens when an administrator, teacher, or group of students approaches working and learning as improvisers. To put it in Spolin and Madson’s words, when we open up to utilizing everything that is available to us, when we focus on process instead of result, when we allow the actions of ourselves and our students to take us where we need to go, when we are awake, when we are not self-focused, and when we are moved by a desire to give something back to someone else in a fearless way, many of the perennial issues that block administrators, teachers, and students from being successful disappear and powerful learning happens. .

So how do we live an improvisational life in schools? In the world of improvisational theater, there are understood rules that are followed that support players acting in the ways described above. There are a number of different improv rules lists out there, but they generally whittle down to four essentials: Say “yes…and”, trust your impulse, make your partner look good, and work at the top of your intelligence. When players follow these rules, surprising things happen on the stage – whole characters are born, elaborate stories evolve, truth happens, possibilities materialize. What is particularly interesting for the purposes of this series of posts is that when these rules are understood and practiced within schools, creativity unleashes, respect develops, and learning deepens.

Let’s take a closer look at these rules and see how they apply in the school and classroom.

Rule #1: Say “yes…and”

In improvisational theater, saying “yes…and” means accepting and building on the offers of others. If someone introduces the idea that you are all on a boat in a scene, the players accept that idea and run with it, giving their entire bodies and minds to the idea of being on a boat as opposed to saying no and blocking the possibility of the idea. Saying “yes…and” opens up avenues to explore and potential to unleash. Saying “yes…and” acknowledges the worth and the ideas of other people on stage. Saying “yes…and” relieves the burden of responsibility for the scene off the individual. Saying “yes…and” creates connection and collaboration. Saying “yes…and” puts someone in the active role of making something positive happen. Learning how to say “yes…and” is a crucial part of developing a risk taking and supportive learning community.

On the best ways to explore the potential of “yes..and” as well as how to introduce the concept of accepting and building on the offers of others in a class is to play the following game:

Try this. Have your class pair up or pair them up yourself. You are going to play “yes…and” to show your students the power of accepting the offer of another. The game is simple. Have each pair find a place in the room to sit down and face one another. Each pair will choose who will start the game. The person in each pair who volunteers to start will offer something that they hear about their partner. The more fantastical, the better (e.g. I heard that you ran away to the circus when you were 8 years old). The job of the partner is to accept that offer by saying, “Yes…and….” and then completing that thought with something that builds on the original offer. To which, the partner who started the game replies, “Yes…and…” and then builds on whatever the other partner offered. Coach the pairs to try to truly accept what has been offered before and to build on the story that is evolving. Here is an example:

Partner 1: I heard you ran away to the circus when you were 8.

Partner 2: Yes…and I apprenticed as a sword swallower

P1: Yes…and there was that time when you accidentally cut your tongue off

P2: Yes…and my father had to sew it back on

P1: Yes…and he was a bit tipsy that night and accidentally sewed it to your right ear lobe

P2: Yes…and after that night, when I heard things, I could taste them too.

P1: Yes…and rumors tasted like chocolate and directions to places tasted salty

You get the idea. A few important things to remember when you try this game with your students. First, don’t ruin the surprise! Don’t explain the power of the game before they experience what happens. Just lay down the rules and let the students discover what happens. Second, make sure that you coach your students to say “yes…and” after every offer. They should not simply say “yes” or even worse, nothing at all! Coach them to say, “Yes…and.” This move helps to push the players to build on the offer that has been made instead of taking it in an entirely different (some would say, selfish) direction. And finally, coach your students to not ask questions. Questions are the death of good improv, good building. Asking a question shirks the responsibility of accepting the offer and building on it and instead lays the expectation back on the person who just made the last offer. One other tip, sometimes it is good to show them a model of this before you have the class break up and do it themselves. You may want the class to gather in a circle and then you choose a student to model the game with you to give the rest of the class a taste of what you are looking for.

Once you let your students play the game, have them share the stories that were created. Then, ask them what it felt like to say “yes…and.” Finally, ask them to describe the kinds of stories that happened because of “yes….and.” This simple game will lay the groundwork for how important it is to accept the offers of others in a community that needs to work and learn together.
Next week, I’ll dig more deeply into what “Yes…and” looks like in the classroom as well as the broader school and spend a bit more time discussing how important the “and” is in “yes…and.” In the meantime, try the game above, and get back to me with how it goes.

Wearing Tzara’s Hat: Collaborative Writing With Young Kids

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One of the things I love to do more than almost anything is write with kids. It is especially fun to write with young kids. I want them to see how language can surprise them, how they can manipulate words, how there can be multiple meanings, how writing is play, more specifically, serious fun. One of the ways that I show them this is through collaborative writing games, and one of the more popular ones with kindergartners and first graders is Tzara’s Hat.

tristanTzara’s Hat is a collaborative writing game created by Tristin Tzara a French poet and essayist of the early 20th Century. The story goes that at a Dada rally back in 1920, Tristin created a poem on the spot by picking words and phrases out of a hat. The crowd was stunned. Years later, William S. Burroughs, another experimental, avant garde writer, was famous for saying that Tzara’s Hat, and other cut-up forms like it, were a way to see into the future. He wrote, ““Perhaps events are pre-written and pre-recorded and when you cut word lines, the future leaks out.”

The way that I do it with young kids is I first find a text that we have read before or that they are familiar with. I type up all of it or a section of it in large font so that only three or four words fit a page. That is the only prep needed.

The next day, I head into the class with my typed up story, a bunch of scissors, and a large hat or basket of some sort. I sit down with the students and I may first read the story or I may not. Next, I tell the kids that I want to make a poem out of the story that we just read or that we read a while ago. I pass out the piece of paper with three or four words on them. Already, the kids are looking carefully at these words, either reading them outright, or sounding them out, trying to figure out how they are connected. I ask that one of the students carefully pass out the scissors, and then I ask them to cut out the words and to put them in a neat pile in front of them. Scissors are brandished. Tongues are moving to the left and right. Words continue to be read. Some cuts are ragged. Some cuts are laser straight. It doesn’t matter. Once the kids have placed the individually cut-out words in a neat pile. I ask them to place their words in the basket or the hat. By this point, they are getting a  bit antsy, wondering what is going to happen next and how this could ever become a poem. With all of the words in the basket, the real fun can begin, but I don’t want to discount the serious literacy work that was happening even before we built the new piece. The cutting out of the individual words are key, demonstrating to the kids that words are material that you can manipulate and play around with. Not to mention all of the reading that goes on at this time.

Back to the real fun. We shake up the hat or the basket a few times so that all of the words mix and mingle, and then I tell them that we are going to build this poem one word at a time and each line of the poem is going to be one word. I hand the basket to the student next to me and ask him or her to pick a word out of the hat and begin our poem. This continues around the circle, each student picking out a word and making the next line of the poem. When the basket has made it all the way around the circle and back into my hands. We pause for a minute and look at what we have created. The poem is in a straight line, bisecting our circle. Students are on their haunches, leaning towards the piece, reading it under their breath or out loud. I let them bask in this mystery for a bit, and then I ask them if they would like me to read it aloud.  They always say yes. I read it carefully and intentionally, paying attention to the inner-logic, the surprising story that is underneath what looks to be randomness on the surface. I pick up on the rhythm of the piece, the unexpected rhymes and repetitions that may occur. It is a performance to say the least, and the kids love it. It is guaranteed to bring laughter, and it is also guaranteed to bring out the literary critic in a five year old. It is not unusual for many in the group immediately after the reading to begin to comment on certain lines, whether they worked or not. They are also keen to discuss what parts of the piece really sounded like a poem. There is something about this experiment that gets their writer antennas up.

But the fun doesn’t stop there. You see, there are more words left in the hat! At a certain point, once the discussion of the poem has died down a bit, I’ll shake the hat or the basket and let them know that there are still words left. What should we do with the rest of these words? Sometimes students will say, “Make another one!” which isn’t a bad idea. What is even a better idea is to add these words to the poem that we have already made. There is usually a student who will bring this idea up too. I grasp onto that idea and encourage them to give that a try. The basket gets passed around the circle again, and this is where the really interesting work happens.

Students start thinking strategically about where they want to put their next word. Should they put it before or after the word already there? They may try it one way, read it, and then try it the other, read it, and make a final decision. Other students will start to wonder if they can put a word upside down or vertical rather than horizontal. Discussion will ensue as to how we should read that when the poem is completed. Finally, and perhaps most interestingly, what often happens is that there will be a student or two who will notice that they can slide part of the second word under the first and make an entirely new word! What a discovery! The group oohs and aaahs and searches for other ways that they can make that happen. Eventually the words are exhausted and we have the final poem. Again, I ask them if they would like me to read it aloud. A resounding chorus of ‘Yes!’ happens. I read it. More laughter. More serious literary discussion. I then read it again in a different way. At the end, I ask them to compare the two readings. What did they notice? Which did they like better? Why? I emphasize their choice by reading it in the preferred way again. Often, we will read it together.

Before the poem gets trampled on the way out to recess or art or lunch, I take a quick picture of it or write it down. That night, I go home, write it up on a big piece of paper and bring it in the next day to hang it up in the room, a luminous example of how words are material to be manipulated and played around with, how writing is serious fun.Tzaras Hat

Writing Open Letters, Memoir, and Flash Fiction with Middle Schoolers

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Johanna classThere is an incredible 8th grade ELA team at a public, middle school near my university. Maria, Johanna, and Sam are dedicated teachers who work closely together and aren’t afraid to take risks to deepen the learning for their students and themselves. They are living a writing life with their students that meets the skill and conceptual goals of their district and the Common Core. This is the first year that they have put into practice a writing-based curriculum, and it is changing the culture of their classrooms and the quality of the work. Over the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing some of their students’ writing in Curved Lines On The Terrestrial Sphere, our online journal for student and teacher writing. The first issue focuses on the art of the Open Letter, Memoir, and Flash Fiction. The Open Letter is a wonderful literary conceit because it is never intended to be read by the person, place, thing, or idea to which it is being addressed while at the same time, the letter is open to all to read. This irony tends to diminish writing inhibitions and give license to students to reveal the sharp, witty, and fresh writers that they are. Memoir is the perfect genre to explore craft because the moves that writers make in memoir are often transparent and accessible to  young writers. It is also a slippery genre, meaning that the writer can play around with the sometimes subtle differences between truth and fact. Middle schoolers love t0 mess around with those kinds of distinctions. Finally, Flash Fiction is usually no more than 400 words. This concision pushes students to think strategically about what they put in and what they leave out. The form lends itself to mirroring life’s idiosyncrasies.

When the teachers submitted their students’ writing, I asked them to respond to a few questions regarding the work and how it is influencing them as teachers. They talk about developing a culture of risk-taking, the ease of differentiating within a writing-based curriculum, and how the deep practice of writing prepares their students for life. For this first issue, I include below their thoughts on what their students’ writing makes them think about.

What does your students’ writing make you think about?johanna 3

Looking over the student writing makes us think about the growth the kids have achieved not only in terms of skill but in terms of confidence. They were mired in self-doubt in September. For so many 8th graders, the idea of writing is fraught with fear, anxiety, and a certainty that they will do it “wrong.” In their early journal reflections, students offered sentiments such as: “I’m a terrible writer. I wish I could be better but I don’t know how to be.” Worse yet, some firmly closed the door on the idea of writing and declared, “Writing is for some people but not for me.” Now, though, we see writers who are skilled and confident, eager to delve into new writing challenges, to experiment, and to take bold risks. It really drives home the fact that literacy is tied to cognition and that as their writing/reading grows, so does their analytical and problem-solving skills.

It also excites us to reflect back on what worked really, really well and what didn’t work so well so that we can refine it for next year. With stunning clarity, we can see that any time we veered from the routines and rituals of our writing-based classrooms – whether because of interruptions, timing, or other extraneous factors – we were frustrated with the results. This provides us with great reassurance and comfort that this path is the right path to journey with our students.

Submit your students’ or your own writing to CLOATS

If you are interested in submitting some of your students’ writing, or your own, please send it to Leif Gustavson at gustavson@arcadia.edu. I will be happy to include it in future issues. Please also leave a comment about the writing. We’re interested in hearing your thoughts.

Go to Curved Lines On A Terrestrial Sphere to read the first issue!

johanna 2For other great examples of open letters go to McSweeney’s Internet Tendencies