This semester through the
Compton division of El Camino College’s offsite program I was assigned to teach
Theatre Appreciation at two inner city high schools in Los Angeles; Firebaugh
High School in Lynwood and Compton High School in Compton. Students receive college credit for attending the courses which run from 3:30 – 5:30pm twice a week.
Two weeks in, both courses were canceled due to low enrollment. This is
a common occurrence for adjuncts who work with high school students. The
disappointment cuts deep this time out. The students at both schools were excited
with my learning by doing approach, which relies more on participating in
improv games, formats and group collaboration, than listening to lengthy
lectures. I was stimulated by the creative possibilities both classes offered and
was already strategizing how to alter my curriculum to accommodate the specific
needs of the students.
There were students in both classes
who have previously taken Intro to Acting with me, where I take the same hands
on approach, although there is a scripted element to the course where scenes
and monologues have to be performed. In that course, I give the students the
choice of finding a scripted scene or monologue to perform, or developing one through
improv and creating a script based on it.
Since those students were already familiar with my style, it was forcing
me to search out new ways to engage them so they could not anticipate outcomes.
What I found endearing was that these students understood what was going on in
the minds of the students who were working with me for the first time and
discovering in a joyful way, I’m unlike any instructor they’ve had before. The
learning by doing approach catches on quickly, and nothing gives me a greater
satisfaction than monitoring the looks of new students engaging in the work for
the first time, where I know they’re thinking “Where has this type of class
been my entire life?” It is a welcome
outlet after being cooped up in school all day for them.
.
At Firebaugh
High School in Lynwood,
I had fourteen students registered and eleven at Compton High School.
Smaller classes work better when it comes to at-risk populations where I can
give more individual attention. But the college has a minimum requirement of
twenty two students. Sometimes I can
sway the administration to extend the registration deadline, and make a case
that the students attending will become ambassadors for the college. Canceling
a course that they’re into will only diminish them, resulting in leeriness when
contemplating signing up for future courses at the college. My case fell on deaf ears this time out.
Essentially the administration told me “Better luck next time.” Tell that to my
bank account or the students who were on the precipice of a new exciting
journey.
Firebaugh High School |
Francisco, a short, muscular,
eighteen year old fireball of kinetic energy, confessed to me at my first
workshop at Firebaugh
High School that he
wanted to be a stand-up comedian. He was always seeking out the comedic edge with
anything he participated in. When I asked for a suggestion for an activity he
offered “crucifixion.” An activity that
a group could do together, he proudly exclaimed “circle jerk.” He frequently
got cheap laughs from the class by mocking the games. In many ways he reminded
me of what I was like at fourteen, when I first started taking improv classes
and I was looking forward to slowly changing his mindset from “it’s all about
me” to “it’s all about the group.” He
developed a kinship with Donotus, a tall, lean, and lanky seventeen year old
who fearlessly volunteered for every game, without paying attention to what the
rules and objectives were and was frequently crestfallen when his noble
attempts failed.
I paired the two up for “Try that on for Size” where an activity,
such as washing the dishes is given, and the players have to come up with
different explanations while pantomiming the same motion for the activity;
(Example: “What are you doing?” “I’m trying to raise the dead. Try that on for
size!”). After a few failed attempts, Francisco and Donotus clicked with the
game, and were thrilled with how they were bouncing off each other and
developing a rhythm. As I drove home
after class I spotted the two walking together on the sidewalk, plotting away with
the possibilities of future collaborations.
Compton High School |
My Compton
High School class had nine female
students and two male, one of which was a dapper seventy year old man named Lawrence. The offsite
program allows adult students to attend high school courses if the schedule
fits their needs better. It’s an interesting dynamic. Depending on the age gap,
frequently the adults take on a paternal role with the teenagers. Lawrence had a
thoughtful, soothing effect on the other students, who readily accepted him. In
my experience, inner city students have a more respectful attitude towards
elderly people, usually because their grandparents often live with or are
raising them. It was a joy to watch Lawrence immerse himself
in “Tableau,” a game where players freeze in a pose that creates a picture
of a location, such as McDonald’s, the
beach or a bank. Now retired, Lawrence wanted to pursue the college degree that
eluded him in his youth and I was eagerly looking forward to becoming part of
his journey and the various roles he would play with the students in scenes.
As I torment myself with
might have been this semester, I hope that the four two hour workshops both groups
had with me was enough to inspire an interest in the work and future theatre
courses. For the adjunct instructors, the offsite program is an admirable
endeavor, designed to inspire high school students to consider college, what
will be required of them and envision a life beyond high school. But the reality
from the perspective of the college administration is it’s all about money and
numbers. Pack them in, espouse the virtues of the college then send them on
their way. Ideally, the college would love for me to have forty students in
each class, which I have at times. Even
though I have developed a successful structure that involves group warm-ups and
collaboration exercises, often the momentum of the class slows down due to
crowd control when the class is that large.
Twenty two is the way to go. Even better if it’s less.
The ongoing uncertainty of
committing to a semester followed by the disappointment of an abrupt
cancellation has forced me to decide whether I want to continue with this
program. Aside from the financial hardship, there is an emotional toll, because
I cannot teach without bonding with my students and I’m already feeling the
loss over the missed opportunities of this semester. It was neither the fault of the students nor I
that the classes were cancelled. What we’re all feeling right now is anger,
with no one to direct it to. I love what
I do, but my heart has been broken so many times in the past with this program
that it’s beginning to develop scar tissue. There is no closure when a course is suddenly
cancelled and I don’t have an opportunity to say goodbye to the students. At
least I had two great weeks with both groups. We were connecting and I know
that I was opening the door to new possibilities for the students. That’s
something to be proud of.
That said, imagine what I
could have accomplished with both groups if I had them for three months.
Workshop director suddenly at liberty. |
Michael Golding is a writer, director and improv
teacher. He can be contacted for
workshops, festivals and private consultations at migaluch@yahoo.com. Michael participated in the evolution of the
Improv Olympics & Canadian Improv Games. Artistic director of the Comic
Strip Improv Group in N.Y. & created the Insight Theatre Company for
Planned Parenthood, Ottawa. He is a faculty member at El Camino College
in Los Angeles,
working with at-risk teens and traditional students. He wrote and co-produced
the documentary "David Shepherd: A Lifetime of Improvisational
Theatre" (available for free on YouTube).
His book, Listen Harder, a collection of essays, curriculum and
memorabilia on improvisation and educational theatre, is available on Amazon,
Barnes & Noble and CreateSpace. Michael holds a BFA degree in Drama from
New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts & an MA degree in
Educational Theatre from NYU’s Steinhardt School of Culture, Education &
Human Development.