Being together again: Post COVID reflections on teaching the performing arts in college

In the performing arts, ensemble matters. A great classroom report makes a performing arts course feel fresh, engaging, meaningful. The class as a whole thrives on the communal energy. The teacher holds the space, offers the invitation for growth, protects the learning environment, and supports those in need to make the experience as equitable and inclusive as possible. Ensembles are never perfect, but they are effective when everyone contributes what they can.

Ensemble learning is much like kindergarten. Individuals learn how to be together in a messy art making process where everyone is trying to figure things out as they go. Ensemble members learn to respect each other, navigate personal disappointments, celebrate others' wins, and balance social and emotional learning through individual and group dynamics. A dance class (or any other performing arts class) isn’t just about the content or even the art; it is about the growth that happens by being a part of something larger than yourself. You depend on others, and they depend on you. Together you can do great things and might even have fun in the process.

Coming back to campus from COVID, I am finding students have forgotten the role of community in their personal learning and in their lives. Add in trying to coordinate a final performance, and you get added madness. Online, it was about individual successes, independent learning, and personal agency. Online the pedagogical mantra is “alternatives for all!” In person, performing arts learning resides in social, interpersonal, and community centered activities focused on cohesion as well as personal responsibility. 

I know well the common pattern in which students want to catch up and save their grades in a last-minute rally. This is the norm for many lecture classes. I regularly see students begging to make up work from weeks 12-15 that they missed (having either forgotten they were enrolled, or convinced those weeks weren’t essential, and/or frozen in shame that they fell behind at all). I frequently see students deciding that a C is going to be ok with them when they are capable of more. In a lecture course the consequences of poor student choices mostly fall back on the student as an individual. I mean, does group work exist online anymore? Has anyone successfully conducted group work online? Even in person, it requires an act of divine intervention for group work to come together. I digress. . .

The point is that students will always have a hard time navigating hard deadlines and course requirements, but ultimately in a lecture course, each student is free to earn their grade as they see fit. They are free to excel, and they are free to fail. This was and early lesson I had to learn when I first entered community college teaching. Witnessing individual students failing is hard enough to emotionally navigate as a teacher when the aim is to support everyone in just the right way that they all succeed.

I have learned to survive the grief of individual students earning failing grades. It isn't my preference, but I get it. It happens, I can sleep at night knowing I did my best to support them. But, coming out of COVIID we have a whole new issue to deal with as students have forgotten life requires them to act with social awareness. Students have forgotten how ensembles work! 

The reality is that the community relationships aspect in an online class is near zero. COVID confirmed this reality. Community is not altogether absent, but not often at the forefront of the learning experience especially in asynchronous interactions. I was surprised how many of my online students have anxiety surrounding posting to a class discussion board for fear of being wrong or otherwise embarrassing themselves. Clearly online forums don't feel that safe right now. This social anxiety is compounded in person; I am witnessing the lack of community connection now whether we are digital or not. 

The biggest challenge is when we as artists are working toward a celebratory final performance and things go sour, yet, the show must go on. A good show in which everything goes smoothly, everyone shows up, is happy with their performance, and feels supremely bolstered by the community is rare (has it ever really happened in a perfect way?). Even pre-COVID show, there are often hurt feelings, frustrations, fatigue, sensitivity, insecurity, and a ticking time bomb of inner yuck ready to explode onto everyone and everything when preparing for performances.

Then the show happens and somehow (usually) it all gets better. People are smiling, relieved, grateful, satisfied, looking to sign up again! haha! Performance was the carrot that brought people together, but performance isn't as special now. Students "perform" all the time on social media. And they do that on their own time, for themselves, in their own way. The digital spaces are compelling and appeal to the ease of not having to coordinate with other people in ensemble environments.

And, I am feeling the push and pull between the worlds. Are ensembles still relevant and valued at this point? How can students relearn to appreciate the value of ensemble learning and ensemble performance? Are we here for ourselves? or for the group? Or, are we here for ourselves through the group? Missing an online class doesn’t feel like a big deal. Missing an in-person class is a big difference. People have forgotten that their consistent presence in the room matters. The nature of the performing arts ensemble training depends on our ability to work together and to show up when it matters (which is all the time). But, showing up is hard, and it takes practice. 

I entered this profession during a time when form was well established and militantly enforced. In general, students knew how to be in a dance class. Those who were new to dance witnessed and learned from those who had experience. I would need to refresh and maintain the boundaries, but I never had to be the one to establish them as I have had to this past year. The hardest part for me to navigate recently is the students' excessive absences. When students are absent the form is broken; there is no opportunity for practice and learning grinds to a halt. Those who remain (who were able to drag themselves from bed that day) are taught then that being absent is ok. This nonchalant approach interrupts the group learning process and breaks trust within an ensemble.

Right now, I don’t trust that students will show up (where is the incentive when ensembles are hard to navigate), and I don’t trust that I am capable of navigating this wild west approach to come-and-go-as-you-please learning environments. I recently listened to a great Hidden Brain podcast about the emotional currency. The reality is that currency is a marker of transactional value, but it is also an indicator of trust and relationship. When we agree to exchange goods, money, time, attention, or services, we are establishing patterns for longer term trust and reliability. Showing up to dance class is the currency of ensemble learning. When you show up, trust is built. When you stick it out in hard times, you earn reliability points. Our social fabric depends on these “transactions” even if there is not money involved. And, we are relational beings so these exchanges matter.

So, where to go from here? How do we rebuild a culture of showing up for each other? How do we establish commitment when COVID conditions and digital culture is training it out of us at each turn?

This is the next step, I haven’t sorted out. I’m not sure if there is a good “solution.” I’m not sure if I am the one to create structure in this phase, when structure building isn’t in my nature. I’ve been more of a structure breaker. This is new world for me to navigate and I need to start to redefine how to function in this profession.

The Share or not to Share?

My relationship with writing and dancing, performing and sharing, even teaching has shifted dramatically over the past few years. With the new world of content creators, social media influences, and virtual masterminds, it seems everyone has something to say and is in desperate need of getting it out there! And maybe they are. But, why?

It felt different writing a blog in the age in which algorithms didn't yet rule our lives. It was small scale, small potatoes and not something many people were drawn to doing. Now, microblogging through twitter or visual blogging through Instagram, or any of the other formats is so fast and easy and accessible that it is the norm. Everyone consumes and most contribute. There is so much content being created on a daily basis that I can't actually conceptualize the magnitude. And, now my little project is just another water molecule in a sea that has no limit and keeps growing and growing. 

This blog is completely self-absorbed. What I have to say or share is not something I take time to research or curate. I don't to market research, and I don't want to. I don't want money, and I'm not looking for popularity or even acclaim necessarily. Mostly I just need to sort through things for myself and feel that at the very least I have said my piece as proof that I have not (yet) been swallowed up by the world. 

Here is the current state of affairs:

The tsunami of information that comes my way as a part of my daily work is too much to process. It hurts me.

I have been teaching dance for 28 years. I am 42 years old. 

I am a passionate dance maker and performer. 

I see the world and question everything. 

I'm sensitive and hurt when I see other hurting.

I often wonder if we are missing the mark on this life. 

I am creative and use expression as a means for making sense of the world.

I hope my work brings a sense of joy and awe into the world. Or, at least into me.

Sharing is a big part of my feeling connected and significant as an individual. (I recognize that this could be a faulty and problematic belief. . .)

I acknowledge by shortcomings and foibles. In fact, I dwell in them frequently. 

What I am wondering now is who cares? Or rather why is it that I care that my work (whether writing or dance) does not exist in the vacuum of my own mind or my own computer hard drive? How can I uncouple my creative needs from hitting the publish button on this blog? Should I? Or is this part of the fabric of my humanity? My human weakness and strength may reside in my need to make sense of the world for myself through the arts. . . 

AND its seems that the only way I am able to motivate myself to sort out the madness in me is through an intentional making for sharing process. 

The making for sharing. The making in service to self and other. 

I know many others feel uncertain about sharing their inner voice and may identify with my worry that their voice will get lost in the tidal wave of new posts of the day only to be floated down the stream of the forgotten moments by the next wave of cute animal photos and pop culture memes. Some posts will hit it big (largely due to probability) and the maker may be forever changed. Others will ride the viral train for a while and then go back to normal life as the info stream closes up the gap behind them.

We enjoy fascinating narratives of success, but of course, the success narrative is something we construct in hindsight as we grapple to make sense of the world. But, all of this is beside the point to some degree. The real question remains, what needs to be said? by whom? for whom? 

I might just be saying this for myself. But, working through even this small piece is essential. There is likely little to no change that will happen "out there" as a result of this post. But, I am in need of the change inside. 

The inside change is the whole point. If this is what it takes, let it be. 

And, yes, this blog feels safer to me that other platforms. It is still public. It is still accessible. Searchable. Making its digital thumbprint in the mega computers in the sky. But, it is its own digital location separate from the stream. It is long format. Chances are only a handful of people are reading this far. (I'm not sure I would have either if I hadn't written it!) 

But, that is ok. If just one person finds it helpful, super! All is well. At the very least, I can know I didn't just jump back into the fray of scrolling through a forgettable stream of brain candy. And, I sorted something out for the moment. To be resorted again and again as time passes, as the world changes, as life unfolds. 

In awe.

Beth