14/09/2024
Why Schools Need to Add Drama to Their Script (My 50 Cents on the Case for Theatre in Schools)
Human beings are innate storytellers. As I write this on a busy rush-hour train, I’m surrounded by stories. Three schoolchildren giggle, recounting their first week back at school, each one interrupting the other to clarify the latest gossip. The man behind me anxiously rehearses for his job interview tomorrow. Meanwhile, a toddler passionately shares a wonderful, if illegible, tale with their bemused mother. If theatre is about telling stories through voice, movement, and expression, then every day we’re surrounded by it. As the big man said, all the world really is a stage.
Yet despite being so natural to us, theatre—or live storytelling—remains undervalued in the school curriculum. Music is compulsory for all students aged 4 to 14, and practical dance lessons, incorporated into PE, are mandatory. However, drama as a practical subject is non-compulsory, meaning students could go through their entire education without a single practical drama class. While drama does appear in the curriculum, it’s mostly studied at a desk, focusing on literary analysis rather than live performance. In essence, we study the scripts but ignore the stage.
Theatre isn’t just a form of entertainment; it’s a vital educational tool. Early human societies used performance to tell stories, share knowledge, and strengthen communal bonds. Today, theatre is often employed in prisons, rehabilitation centres, and therapy programmes to help people process trauma, develop empathy, and rebuild a sense of community.
Theatre can transform lives—take Michel Belogan, who, while in prison, started working in the hospitality section at RADA, only to fall in love with theatre, train there, and now enjoy a successful career. His story illustrates the power of access; theatre is transformative when given the chance to flourish. But it’s not just individuals who benefit—communities as a whole are enriched through the shared experience of live performance. In an age of individualism, a good play often brings together the voices of individuals and shows how they sit within a community. The act of watching a production together fosters a shared experience, leading to greater empathy and creating discourse and reflection among audiences.
Research shows that participating in live theatre enhances communication, social awareness, and creativity. Theatre has also often walked hand in hand with social change. Consider the work of Bertolt Brecht or, today, the Belarus Free Theatre, which uses performance as a tool for social revolution. Participants and audience members risk their safety to attend shows. As Lyn Gardner wrote in The Guardian in 2016, “Any kind of street-level protest…, is effectively a form of theatre.” Yet while theatre can inspire change and reflect society’s struggles, its impact is limited.
Only 14% of Brits visit the theatre more than twice a year. Why is this? It’s clearly not a disinterest in stories—consider how much time we spend watching TV dramas or reading novels, both fiction and non-fiction (3 hours and 12 minutes per day on average). Often, the high cost of theatre tickets is blamed, but look at how quickly tickets for Oasis, Taylor Swift, and Glastonbury sell out despite their staggering prices.
Perhaps it comes down to accessibility. Music and dance are consistently at our fingertips—how do we spend our Friday nights if not at parties, clubs, or bars? Dancing and singing are part of the routine. But theatre often feels more elusive, something you have to seek out in formal spaces.
In my mind, this, at least in part, stems from how drama is taught in schools. If students mostly experience their theatrical education sitting at a desk, reading and analysing text without any practical exploration, how can we expect them to fully appreciate it as a practical art form? A child in a state school might never have a single practical drama class, while private schools often provide extensive theatrical opportunities and facilities that are comparable to those of professional drama schools and conservatories. If there is no access to hands-on learning of the craft, we risk young people viewing theatre as a magical talent that only a few possess, rather than a skill that can be learned, or something that is only created for and by the privileged few.
This is not only about offering young people equal opportunities to enter the arts, but also about allowing them to appreciate theatre and reap the benefits from it. If we know that theatre has the power to change lives in prisons and rehabilitation centres, why wouldn’t we integrate these tools earlier in life? Sidelining practical drama in education deprives students of one of the oldest and most effective methods of learning. Imagine the impact if we taught young people the emotional resilience, communication skills, and sense of community that theatre fosters from the start. Not only might these lessons help prevent many of the issues we later try to remedy through intervention, but they could also create a society of more well-rounded individuals capable of empathy, collaboration, and creative thinking.
Anyway, there’s my Saturday afternoon 50 cents. I’m off to the theatre.
I’ve attached some links to interesting books and articles on the subject so you can get some real expert opinions too.
(Bridget Phillipson, if you’ve somehow found yourself on this page in the middle of a long night of weird internet searches—we’ve all been there, don’t worry—I look forward to your announcement of a new policy prioritising drama in all state schools.)
06/09/2024
An Introduction and an Ode to The Artist's Way
I never imagined I’d be writing this. For those who know me well, this might seem like a quarter-life crisis. People who have known me since school know that my worst-ever nightmare was having anyone read anything I had written—ever, ever, ever. Yet, here I am. Trust me, I’m the most surprised.
If things had been different, I’d have dismissed this urge as an intrusive thought and slammed the door shut on it. But it came at a time when I was stuck in a creative rut.
After finishing a teaching contract at Rose Bruford in June, I hit a wall. The last few years have been non-stop: moving to London, completing my master’s, directing my first play, and assisting on shows, and culminating with six months back at my old university, working with the brilliant BA Acting students at Rose Bruford South West.
But by June, I was burned out, working two minimum-wage jobs. If there was a creative bone left in my body, it probably looked like a dried-up prune.
Despite a summer of fun—my “adulting detox”—I still felt uninspired. I even flirted—very briefly—with the idea of a non-creative pursuit, half-heartedly sending out some job applications, all while knowing, deep down, that this wasn’t me.
A friend, tired of my moaning, suggested I read The Artist’s Way, a book by Julia Cameron about overcoming creative blocks. Skeptical (I’m all for therapy, but a self-help book for artists... come now), but desperate, I gave it a go.
One of the principles of The Artist's Way is a daily practice of “morning pages”—three pages first thing in the morning of whatever’s on my mind.
Perhaps the motivation to write came more from procrastinating getting out on a run, but I’ve kept it up, religiously writing out three pages of blurry 6 a.m. thoughts every morning. Nine weeks in, I re-read some of these ramblings. Amongst the rants, worries, and gossip, I found moments of genuine creative thought. Those early-morning scribbles sparked something in me, and I started writing more. For the first time in months, I felt “in flow.” Encouraged by my closest friends and sister, I’ve decided to share some of these thoughts here.
I’m not sure what this will become—likely a mix of creative musings and the occasional self-reflection. It’ll be messy and sporadic—I’m not promising any great insights, but I hope it’ll be thoughtful and maybe even a bit entertaining.
While I know my readership is unlikely to extend beyond my mum and a handful of loyal friends, should you find yourself here and inspired enough to want to comment on anything, feel free to drop me an email via the contact bit on the main page (Mum, you can just text me, it’s alright).
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