“Why are we doing this?’
I remember the moment clearly, even now, a quarter of a century later.
It wasn’t a challenge, though it felt like one.
It wasn’t some kid being ‘cheeky’, though I was tempted to react as if it was.
I remember the sinking feeling, the anxiety, the dryness in the mouth, the feeling of panic.
I was lost.
I felt everyone could see I was lost.
It was just a question — a perfectly reasonable question:
“Why are we doing this?”
It was during a Youth Theatre Session. I had set up an exercise. It was clearly not working. A young lad just stopped and asked me:
‘Why are we doing this?’
Let me back up a bit.
It was my first session in charge of an outer suburban youth theatre. It was my first ‘proper’ job in a country I’d recently moved to. It felt like a lot was riding on it.
I had very good intentions, but not a lot of confidence. My imposter-syndrome was sitting on my shoulder whispering to me.
I’d some decent experience behind me, but all of it purely practical. I didn’t have much understanding.
I’d been told the Youth Theatre was going to be a tough gig, but I’d not realised how tough ‘tough’ could be. For this first session, I wanted to introduce myself, my way of working. I wanted them to show me what they could do. I wanted to start to build ‘a team’.
Not sure where to start, I remembered an exercise I’d done with another Artist-Teacher some months earlier. I’d thought it was good and decided to use it as a starting point…..
Seeing the group drift in, late, distracted and disengaged, coming from a day at school, I had a sinking feeling.
But I pushed on.
I explained the exercise and tried to ignore the glances passing between them.
My mouth began to feel a little dry.
I pushed on.
Within moments, I knew I’d misjudged.
They weren’t interested and barely even pretended to engage. Already the room was full of the whiff of their disappointment that this ‘new person’ was not up to the job.
I pushed on.
Then:
‘Why are we doing this?’
I felt panic rising through my body. Then there were voices in my head. I WAS a fraud. I WAS an imposter. I WAS failing. I’d blown it. I’d let them down, failed myself, the local council down, the whole damn world…..
It doesn’t take long for a small problem to become a big problem when you’re on the spot and not sure what you’re trying to do.
Don’t get me wrong — it wasn’t the question that bothered me.
What made my heart sink was realising I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t know why we were doing that exercise, except in a general ‘this will fill up the time and be a way of getting to know each other’ sort of way.
I didn’t have a Plan B.
I had NO flexibility.
Even though it wasn’t working, I pushed on because I didn’t have the flexibility, or confidence, to find something better. I had a plan and I was going to stick to it!
I realise now, I didn’t have a proper objective. I had decided WHAT we were going to do, but not WHY we were going to do it. And when WHAT we were doing didn’t work, I didn’t have an alternative HOW to proceed. I had not paid attention to WHO they were, or WHERE (in terms of place and time of day) the session was happening.
It wasn’t a fun session.That they stuck with me is a credit to them more than to me. In the end we got somewhere good during the year I spent with them.
Around the same time I was teaching a workshop in physical ensemble for professional performers. There was an exercise I’d learned in my early days as a performer. It was brilliantly effective, and really exhausting. One of those really tough training exercises I loved!
As we sat exhausted at the end, a performer I respected deeply, quietly asked ‘Why do we do that?’.
Again I realised I didn’t have a proper answer. I knew it worked, I didn’t know HOW it worked. I did not know WHY it worked — therefore I could not explain WHY we were doing it.
WHY and HOW.
That was a turning point for me. I committed myself to knowing my WHY. I don’t mean writing out a set of ‘learning objectives’ for each exercise. I mean a deep level of understanding about WHY I work how I do. I‘d never again ask students to do exercises, or people to pay me, unless I could give them a proper answer to their simple, reasonable questions: ‘Why do this?’ and ‘How will your work achieve that?’.
Since then I’ve explored the WHY and the HOW of teaching performance.
When you discover your WHY, you discover who you are as an Artist-Teacher. You know your offer.
Your WHY gets you into the room.
Your HOW helps you build bridges between what you do and the needs, fears and expectations of your students.
Your HOW helps you be flexible — because when something isn’t working, you take your exercises to pieces and put them together differently.
This doesn’t mean reducing everything to check-boxes. Nor does it mean everything has to be explained in words. Sometimes my answer to ‘How does it work?’ is ‘Do it and you’ll find out’.
But, fundamentally, I need to know — and be able to explain — WHY I do what I do and HOW what I do helps students achieve their objectives.
If you want to be flexible and adaptable — to be responsive during a teaching session — you must know the fundamentals of your work REALLY well — just as if you want to improvise on an instrument, you better know how to play that instrument in the first place!
It’s been a long journey since that night at the outer-suburban youth theatre. I’ve taught all over the world from elite training schools to community groups, at all levels of education and in areas of personal development and corporate training. Always it has been a process of deepening my understanding of, and ability to explain, my WHY and my HOW.
I hope never again to feel my body sinking into cold sweat, panic starting to rise, as I feel eyes staring at me, asking for answers I don’t have.
Art Matters
Performance Matters.
- ***
16 Top Tips for Workshops Leaders: https://teachperformance.systeme.io/toptips
I’ve spent 30 years performing, teaching and directing across Europe, the Americas, India, China and Australasia.
My focus is deep-level training of performers, specialising in presence, interconnection and creativity.
I’m fascinated by embodiment, mind-body connection, body-based mindfulness, interpersonal communication, fearlessness, creative process and how people learn — as well as by my ‘day job’ of making excellent art.
I work as a consultant, teacher and mentor across corporate, educational and community fields, mentoring individuals and training Artists, Teachers and Activists to design and deliver life-transforming workshops.
I’ve written three books: ‘How To Teach Performance’, ‘Encountering Ensemble’ and ‘Climbing the Mountain’ .
My approach to training is called ‘Self-With-Others’, based in developing understanding of the inner and outer universes simultaneously. It’s a practical approach to performing under pressure, and a conceptual framework for healthy and empowered living.
