Inspiration and renewal: Farfalle

As a self-supporting performing artist, I find that it's important to take myself out of my little world of storytelling or marketing my storytelling, to enjoy other artforms.

Today I drove over to Lawrence to see a wonderful show at the Lied Center of Kansas. This was part of the 2nd grade residency, Exploring the environment through the arts, which I've worked on in the past. The centerpiece of that residency is a performance at the Lied Center. Today it was "Farfalle," by Italian dance company TPO. It's a magical dance of the lifecycle of the butterfly, with music, color, light, shadow and lots of audience participation. Normally audience participation makes me slightly nervous, but it worked splendidly in this dance. The company uses what they call a "cheering carpet," which has sensors that create different effects when touched. Here's a look:

I love live performance. As an audience member, sometimes I lose myself in the performance and sometimes I watch with an analytical eye. I did both today, enjoying the sensory experience and also watching how well the two dancers worked with the children. 

More on how I find inspiration and renewal in the next few posts. 

Stories with the dulcimer

Last week, I did something new: I used my mountain dulcimer in performances with preschoolers. I've had this beautiful instrument for about twenty years, a present from a friend who used it as a wall decoration. I've played it occasionally for my own entertainment. I don't pretend to play terribly well, but I can pick out a tune if I hear it in my head, in the way I play harmonica and various recorders and folk flutes.

But use it in performance? Nah. Then I was asked to do a series of shows in conjunction with performances by Chiara String Quartet for the Lied Center of Kansas' program, Performing Arts 3 to 5. The quartet played for the children and collectively told a story. My goal in following them was to underscore what they did and extend it with stories, music and puppets.

First I asked the children what they remembered from their field trip. They went to the Lied Center and sat on the stage, not swallowed up by the theater seats, for the show. Most of them remembered that they'd seen violins and a cello (a jello, some said). Some remembered the viola. Some proudly announced that it was a quartet.

I told them I'd brought a stringed instrument, but it wasn't a cello or a violin or a viola. I brought it out of its box and showed them the similarities to those classical instruments. I showed them the pick and the noter (a little stick used to press the strings down next to the fret).

Then I told a story about a boy with a violin. I played songs in the story and the kids called out what I was playing: "Mary had a little lamb," "The itsy bitsy spider," etc.

The next part was magic. I carried the dulcimer to the children and let them strum it, one at a time. The kids were amazingly patient and quiet, waiting their turn, even with the big groups of 40 kids. Gentle, too, in the main.

I put the dulcimer away and moved on to more songs and another story, with help from my puppets.

I visited thirteen groups at five preschools last week. This week I have eight more of these sessions. It's a treat to try something new--a treat for me as much as it is for the children. We all have a good time.

Oh, speaking of puppets, don't you think the inside of the case looks like Elmo?!

More on workshops

Here are some snippets of the Teachers Summer Workshop from a couple of weeks ago (held at Plymouth Congregational Church, which is why you see a cross in the background). No, there wasn't piano music playing in the background in real life.



One of the tricky things about filming puppets with a visible puppeteer is that the focus is off. I teach that the puppet should make eye contact with the audience and the puppeteer should draw the focus to the puppet. When I remember to tell the videographer to come in close to the puppet when it's speaking, the filming works. When I forget, the videographer naturally gets a wider view and the illusion doesn't quite come off. Ah, well.

Workshop musings

What makes a successful workshop?

I've led workshops since about 1990. I teach workshops on storytelling, puppetry, story stretches and songs, story games, and writing. My goals are to give the participants specific tools they can take home and put into use immediately, and for us all to have fun.

In the past couple of years, I've been an old dog learning new tricks. I'm learning a new way to teach, one I chafed against at the beginning (thanks, Anthea, for pushing me!). In the past, my method was to give workshop participants tons of information, exercises, games. Throw everything at them and see what sticks.

It isn't that this didn't succeed. My evaluations were usually positive. Here's a comment from a librarian in Colorado:

I came from Grand Junction which is 250 miles from Denver. But I am so glad I did. I would drive it again in a heartbeat to attend one of your workshops!! It was a WONDERFUL learning experience for me and I really appreciated all of your creative ideas.

And another from Kansas:

I believe this is the most overwhelmingly positive response we've had for Summer Reading Workshop in the thirteen years I've been here! In addition to what they wrote on their evaluation forms, many of the workshop participants commented to me how much they enjoyed it and how useful they found it.

Now, though, I keep wondering how much better those workshops might have been if I'd known what I now know.

Last week I gave what may have been my best workshop ever, Hands on, hands in: learning about lifecycles through storytelling and puppetry as part of the USD 497/Lied Center of Kansas Teachers' Summer Workshops. I used the techniques I learned from the Lied.Art.Teach Kennedy Center workshops for artists and what I learned from The Music Teaching Artist's Bible.

I began planning months ago. Instead of choosing a million activities and pieces of information, I narrowed it down to a few specific points.

• introduce the teachers to the method and information I used with the 2nd graders last fall,
• connect to the topic of lifecycles,
• teach puppet and storytelling techniques,
• include a segment on the Wakarusa Wetlands given by Sandy Sanders and Alison Reber, who organized the Wetlands Learners Project.

I created a detailed outline, which I then fleshed out. For once, in the workshop I stuck with the outline. This is huge--my default has always been to give myself a very general plan and then fly by the seat of my pants.

I began with a brief introduction. Then I split the group into four groups for a short brainstorming session. I asked the teachers to write anything they could think of about lifecycles on big sheets of paper, which we then read aloud and hung around the room.

After this, I demonstrated the residency presentation. This led naturally to the section with Sandy and Alison. Then it was time for a break.

After the break, I taught basic puppet techniques. We played with practice puppets. Then I revealed a huge pile of puppets, up until then hidden under a cloth, and invited the teachers to choose one. This was a hands-on (and hands-in) exercise in how to create a character. More games, more laughter, and everybody was ready for a short break.

After the break, we went back to the lists the teachers had made in the beginning. I suggested that they choose another puppet and in small groups, create a story with the puppets.

The teachers blew me away with their brilliance! Keep in mind that by the time we got to this point, it was late afternoon on a beautiful summer day. Each group created a cohesive story about a lifecycle that was both interesting and fun. I'll never think of the word "metamorphosis" without hearing it as a rap!

One of the things I've learned is allow sufficient time for reflections and questions. The teachers had a lot to offer, so building time in for that was key. They taught each other (and me) well.

So what made this successful? Here are my guesses:

• Being specific about what I was teaching,
• Creating a strong outline (and following it),
• Choosing only a few points and activities,
• Keeping the lecture aspect to a minimum and audience participation to a maximum,
• Allowing the teachers to offer what they know already and to ask questions
• Remembering what Eric Booth says: 80% of what you teach is who you are.

What else do you think makes a good workshop?

P.S. The photos are from a workshop I gave in Sao Paulo last October at St. Francis School, not from last week's workshop.

Music Teaching Artist's Bible

I'm a storyteller and a puppeteer. I'm comfortable saying that. Here's what I'm learning to say: I'm also a teaching artist.

It's not an automatic fit. I find it a challenge to approach my work differently, to focus on teaching as much as I focus on performance, to make detailed plans, to mesh with school curricula and learn the language of standards. Thanks in large part to the Lied Center of Kansas, and specifically Anthea Scouffas, who brought in Kennedy Center training for two groups of artists last year and the year before, I'm learning how to do this.

Another step in my education is reading and rereading The Music Teaching Artist's Bible: Becoming a Virtuoso Educator by Eric Booth. Even though it's for musicians, the book extends to teaching artists of all kinds.

I love this book. It's rich, complex, interesting, well-written and above all, useful to my work and my life. The author is one of the country's foremost teachers of teaching artists. Here's a bit about what a teaching artist is, from the first chapter (storyteller easily substitutes for musician):

One clunky definition of the term I use is an artist who chooses to include artfully educating others, beyond teaching the technique of the art form, as an active part of a career. Yes, this could and should include just about all artists, all musicians, because we all find ourselves teaching in bits and pieces throughout our lives. We teach when we talk to family, friends, strangers and colleagues about music. We teach by example. As you will read in these essays, I believe that 80% of what we teach is who we are, and like it or not, our example in the world teaches people what it means to be a musician. And for the sake of our artform, I hope you teach as artfully as you perform. (p.3-4)

Booth weaves that law of 80% throughout the book. Think about that: 80% of what you teach is who you are. That bears repeating and long reflection.

Booth leads readers through ideas of what a teaching artist is (and isn't), what is necessary to be an effective teaching artist, how to work in educational settings, what the challenges are, how to expand the way we think about teaching and the arts, and what's going on in the rest of the world in the field (this list loosely taken from the table of contents).

It's clear that Booth is deeply invested in the arts in general and in fostering teaching artists. Here's what he says at the end of the book:

I have set high goals in these pages. I'm sure that at times they have seemed unrealistic, quixotic, perhaps even annoying. I have asked that you never ask a question with a single correct answer because to do so even once violates the respectful inquiring world we seek to invite learners' spirits inside. I have urged you to do homework, to spend time with ten-year-olds if you don't have a gut feeling for their minds and hearts. I have urged you to plan thoroughly for each opportunity in order to have every aspect of it embody the best of what we love about the arts. I have even asked that you dedicate time to add reflection, and to structure in self-assessment and documentation because they help affirm, help realize and give place in the heart to the feel of the arts. I have urged your vigilance as witness with learners because only you can recognize that wordless moment when the artist awakes in someone's spirit, when a person feels that surge of power, that spiritual blip of potential to make a world arise. Only you can confirm its truth and importance, perhaps just with a nod that says yes, perhaps with just a few words that say, "You are on the right track. Keep going." And let your subtext say, "Keep going. For the rest of your life. As I have done."

I've dogeared my copy of the book. I know my first readings of it are far from my last. I'll dip in for ideas, for resources and most of all for inspiration. If you're an artist, I hope you'll do the same.

Summer Teacher's Workshop

Yesterday I took part in the first of the Lied Center's Summer Teacher's Workshops. Over 60 teachers gave up one of their few remaining vacation days to take workshops on integrating the arts into their classrooms. It was a great group to work with! I gave two half-hour sessions for small groups on using puppets in the classroom. It was tricky to compress my two-hour workshop--all we could really do was go over basic puppet technique, with some reflections by the participants.

In the afternoon, I attended a workshop given by Kimberli Boyd, whom I first met in the spring when she came out to train artists to teach. She's a Kennedy Center Master Teaching Artist, and it shows. Her workshop on using movement and dance to teach about the rainforest was a great example of how to introduce topics succinctly and build knowledge incrementally. Even though I've been giving workshops for almost 20 years, since taking the Kennedy Center training in the spring, I've been rethinking the structure, content and pacing of my workshops.

It was an excellent day, though exhausting. After the wine and cheese reception, I came home and lay on the sofa for a while. Good thing I don't have any performances today. It's nice to spend the day working slowly and steadily in the office.