Jane was incredibly excited to begin studying drama therapy. For the past three years she had been working with disadvantaged youth in a community-based program using theatre and she had quickly come to appreciate the powerful impact theatre and drama had on the
participants. When she heard about drama therapy it was as if the stars had aligned and her life purpose was made clear. She was eager to start learning more in order to take it back to the community and continue her work. Without a doubt this is what she was born to do.
Jane had researched the different drama therapy programs and had applied to a couple. She had looked online at several programs and went to two of them for an interview. Ultimately she chose this one because it was closer to home, plus, during the interview she was very
impressed by this university, particularly by Dr. Vaughn – or rather, Trevor, as he had asked to be called. His philosophy and approach to drama therapy spoke strongly to her. She also felt that he was someone who really understood her and the work – there was a connection. She hoped to learn as much as possible from him and to incorporate some of his skill into her own work as a future drama therapist.
Orientation was a week before school started; it was there that she met her cohort. They were a diverse mix of people from all over the world, of different ages and backgrounds – a couple she was immediately drawn to and a few she found a bit strange, but she figured she’d warm up to them. Entering the drama therapy space she was all flustered, it felt like the first day of kindergarten – would they like her? Would she like them? Would she find people she could relate to and who would understand her? She considered herself a bit of an introvert, but could be extroverted if the situation warranted. She ended up spending a lot of time with Diane, who had a similar background and had a fun, outgoing personality. They struck up a quick
friendship.
A group of second-year students were at orientation, talking about their experience so far in the program. “It’s so intense!” “That first year breaks you up and then puts you back
together.” “It’s changed me, I am such a different person now.” Their discussion of the intensity both scared and thrilled her, it sounded so personal. She would be lying to say she didn’t hope to experience some personal change in the program, to be stronger, to be more sure of herself, she had always wanted to be more confident. As each person talked about the change they had personally experienced, her anticipation, excitement and anxiety grew.
Trevor and Sandra were there, the two primary faculty members. They seemed warm and excited as well. She felt an instant connection to both of them and found herself quickly wanting to make sure she could meet their expectations. It was also clear how busy they were and the immense responsibility they held to oversee the program. The orientation went so quickly with so much information, she barely registered much of it – for a two and a half year program there sure was a lot to cover; schedules, assignments, final projects, use of space, textbooks, etc. She remembered some references to “self care” and the need to be in personal therapy. Mostly, though, she was excited and thrilled to finally be there.
The semester certainly did not get off to a slow start. Almost immediately they were diving into powerful drama therapy techniques. There were certainly moments where it was intense and from the beginning emotions were bubbling up. Trevor’s Drama Therapy Processes class in particular was a constant shift from enactment to lecture, back and forth, which she found somewhat disorienting. Within the class they were in role as they learned the techniques. At one moment they were a client, the next they were a therapist, the next they were watching Trevor as he modeled the interventions.
She watched her classmates engage in the activities and classroom demonstrations in different ways. There were a few, Barbara and Sheila in particular, who seemed to dive in without any restraint. There was hardly a class where one of them didn’t seem to have some major breakthrough or emotional event. Part of her admired them, so free and available, giving themselves over to the process. She had always been someone who struggled with how to show emotion, she felt emotions strongly, but sharing them, especially in a group, was different. In general, she was not someone who wanted to take up space. At the same time a part of her was irritated by these classmates. They seemed to get a lot of the attention and were often the focus of Trevor’s modeling, not to mention taking focus off the lesson. Within the first week of class, while playing the sister in another student’s demonstration, Sheila unexpectedly broke into tears and shared how the activity had reminded her of when her younger brother was diagnosed with cancer. The role of the sister had triggered a flood of emotions for her. The class rallied around her and showed a lot of compassion and empathy. Throughout his response, Trevor seemed to be the perfect therapist, he just seemed to know the right thing to say – it was amazing to watch. But, if she was being honest, Jane couldn’t help feeling that they had lost out on learning the day’s lesson. She had made the conscious – or very nearly conscious decision to focus on being a student by learning and not letting the other stuff get in her way.
There was another odd moment in class. Trevor was demonstrating a projective storytelling exercise, using small figurines. Barbara had volunteered to be the client and was using a rock, a tiger and a small car to tell a fictional story. Initially it was a funny story, Barbara was using silly voices for each character and it all seemed lighthearted and fun. Trevor began challenging the story, encouraging the car to find its way past the rock. But the car seemed stuck. He started interviewing each of the characters. As Barbara spoke for the car, it was clearly unable to move or find motivation, totally stuck. The rock seemed to have no will and was merely a tool for the tiger. When it was the tiger’s turn, Barbara’s voice started changing as Trevor began asking more probing questions, “Why won’t you let the car pass?”
“Oh, it’s not allowed to go there,” Barbara replied as the tiger. “Why not?”
“Because it doesn’t belong there.”
“I said it can’t go!” Barbara’s intensity was a bit surprising. It was clear it was hitting on something, Jane wasn’t sure if things would go too far.
“That’s not fair-“ Trevor responded, “You’re just being mean. You haven’t given me a good reason for the car not to go.”
“She can’t go!” Barbara yelled, “She doesn’t deserve it!!! She’s not worthy!!” The emotion was high. Barbara’s eyes were filled up with tears. It was obvious this was triggering something powerful for her. “Okay, fine, you win, tiger, we’re out of time so the car will stay here,” Trevor said and then he ended the demonstration, thanking Barbara for volunteering, smiling warmly at her. Barbara went back to her chair, still clearly emotional. “So that’s an example of dramatic projection in action,” Trevor said, “Any questions about what you saw or what I did?” The class was quiet for a moment, an air of hesitancy, but finally Darin raised his hand, “So, how did you know what to ask – how much to push?” Trevor then went on to explain his choices and to explain more about dramatic projection and distancing. Most of the class had their laptops and books out, taking notes – back to student mode. But Jane was filled up with Barbara – she looked over at her and noticed she was quiet, looking off in the distance. Jane was concerned about her and the impact of the exercise. Something just didn’t seem right about her being in that emotional place one moment and then switching to the academic place the next. She wanted to reach out to her but after class there just wasn’t time.
There were other moments, though, that were almost magical. From the first week they always began class with a dramatic ritual where they would pass around the magic ball that each person would transform to express how they were feeling, an embodied form of checking in. Jane found herself frequently planning her check in as the ball was coming around the circle to her. Sometimes she would come up with her ideas before she even arrived in class. She noticed similar patterns in her other classmates. Anthony, who quickly took the role of class clown, was always checking in with funny images, hamburgers, small mythical creatures, a bottle of scotch. But then a few weeks into the semester, Anthony’s energy seemed a bit different. He was less playful coming into class and sat in a different spot. As the magic ball came to him, he fumbled with it for a bit, he couldn’t seem to find a form that felt right for him. It became small and he held it in his hands. The room was quiet and Jane felt a sense of sadness in the air.
Uncharacteristically, Anthony started talking about how he was feeling lonely and homesick, questioning whether moving here to do the program was right. Last night he had been speaking
with a friend back home and it made him even more lonely. Tears were coming down his face – a very different Anthony than they were used to. “Let’s stay with this for a moment,” Trevor said, “What’s in your hands?”
“It looks like a small bird,” Anthony replied. “Is it going to fly somewhere?” Trevor asked. “Yeah. It’s gonna fly home.”
“You know what? I think it’s one of those magic birds. I think it’s able to take a
message with it. In fact, why doesn’t everyone find their magic bird,” Trevor said. Everyone in the class reached out and brought their hands back, cupped like Anthony’s. Jane could almost see the yellow feathers on her small finch. “Now, let’s each tell our magic bird the message we want delivered and to whom we ant it delivered to,” Trevor directed. Jane quietly instructed her bird to fly to her grandmother and tell her she missed her and their Sunday afternoon talks. Jane could also see Anthony, still emotional, giving his magic bird its instructions.
“Now, at the count of three, let’s release the birds so they can get on their way to make their deliveries,” Trevor said, “One. Two. Three!” Everyone in the class released their birds and watched them as they flew off. They all took a collective breath in. After a moment Trevor asked, “How you doing, Anthony?”
“I’ll be okay, it’s just so hard sometimes. So overwhelming.”
That started a group discussion about the sacrifices they had each made to be there. Jane sat back, amazed at the change and openness in Anthony. She had assumed he was just another class clown, someone who would never really share, but here he was, opening up, transforming.
As the semester moved on, Jane had the nagging feeling that she should be showing more, revealing more of herself. They had been told that they would not be graded on aspects of their personal process, but at the same time they were expected to show “insight” and “personal awareness.” How could that be separated? She wanted to do things right, to be a good student, she had always been a good student, but it seemed so complex. Not only did she want to show emotions to be a good student, it was also clear that students like Barbra and Sheila were known and had special meetings with Trevor and the other instructors. It seemed silly to suggest that there were teacher’s pets in graduate school, but sometimes it felt that way – showing emotion seemed to get them attention. She also believed that she had to be willing to go to these places. How could she expect her clients to do so if she wasn’t willing herself? She needed to have her
own personal experience with drama therapy in order to create those experiences for others. There was some fear, though when it came to emotion. They had heard stories about someone in the year ahead of theirs having some sort of emotional attack and having to go to the hospital and be put on medication. That didn’t sound safe and she certainly didn’t want to become that person.
And then there was Trevor. She didn’t know how to feel about him. He clearly knew what he was talking about and was a very experienced drama therapist. She could tell that he cared about his students. The way he would give his full attention and pick up on the slightest nuances was almost eerie; he seemed psychic in a delightful sort of way. At times she found herself drawn to him, wanting to be close to him and to be noticed by him. At other times she found herself becoming angry and upset – maybe even jealous of the attention he would give to others. She went back and forth between feeling that he cared about her and feeling that he was disappointed by her. In some ways, she supposed, it was almost as if he was her father – a whole complex bag of emotions and feelings. She also felt close to Sandra, but in a different way. Sandra was warm but she also had a way of setting firm boundaries and enforcing rules more than Trevor. Some students didn’t like her and would say she was a bad clinician with no real group skills. Jane didn’t feel that was true, but she didn’t feel about her the same way she did about Trevor.
Jane felt lucky to have made friends with Diane. She loved her cohort but Diane was truly a good friend. They would often go out for drinks after class and debrief. Similar to Jane, Diane was also quiet and had not volunteered for many in-class demonstrations. Together they would challenge each other and complain together. Other members of the cohort would also occasionally join them for drinks and for study sessions. She felt that many of them were becoming a small family.
Finding a therapist had proven difficult. Therapy wasn't covered by her insurance and with the cost of tuition, it would be impossible to pay full price. She would have loved to go to a drama therapist, but that wasn’t possible. As a student, she could receive free counseling at the school’s counseling clinic. She had gone for an intake interview and then waited almost six weeks to be assigned to a therapist since she didn’t have any pressing issues. At this point she had only seen her new therapist twice and she was still pretty uncomfortable. She had been in therapy when she was younger, but that was a long time ago. She also didn’t really know what
to talk about. So often her class experiences were more intense and seemed more therapeutic than what she could imagine with her actual therapist. She hoped that would change with time.
With only a few weeks left in the semester, Jane decided it was time to take a risk. She was tired of berating herself for not showing up more, for playing it so safe in the back of the classroom, and so she promised herself that she would make an effort this week to show more of herself. For the previous weeks, classmates had been taking turns facilitating drama therapy interventions. In pairs, students lead one thirty-minute intervention that they were graded on. They were usually relatively benign and resembled your basic run-of-the-mill acting games. So far, Jane had just observed and had not volunteered for any of the enactments, making sure that the offers she made were uninteresting and would not be picked for the focus of the activity. But this week was different, she felt it was time to act, time to be seen.
Darin and Lisa were leading today’s intervention based on superheroes. They instructed the group to walk around the room and think of a superpower they would have if they could. Once they had identified the superpower, they were instructed to develop physicalization and a name associated with their superhero. The first superpower that came into Jane’s mind was invisibility – she sensed the immense relief it would be to be invisible, able to go about her life – the program – without being noticed or called out. But then she realized that would just be falling into her old patterns. She needed to do something different. She needed to be seen, to take a step out. She wanted Trevor and her classmates to notice her effort. The image of fire came to her mind and she quickly grabbed onto the power of flames and heat. Her character could shoot fire and radiation out of the palms of her hands. She began walking as this new character, feeling the warmth, trying different ways of tossing out the flames. She walked taller. She smiled. She made eye contact. She was powerful. Fiery Fantasia! She was having fun, noticing the other characters and Trevor around the room.
For the next part of the intervention, Darin and Lisa created a scene where Darin played a purse thief and Lisa played an old lady, each superhero had their chance to come in and save the old lady while introducing their character. One by one, the characters flew, ran, teleported and rolled into the scene, serving justice and saving the poor woman. When it was her turn, Fiery Fantasia ran into the space. “Stop. Right. There, thief!!” she yelled, “That’s quite enough. Drop the purse and step away or you will feel the flames of Fiery Fantasia!!” She was pulsing with adrenaline and in the heat of the moment.
"And what if I choose not to?” provoked the thief.
“You’re wasting my time,” she said. And with that, from the palms of her hands she released an intense spray of fire. This evildoer would be no more! Making loud whooshing