A teacher does more than impart knowledge. A teacher creates an atmosphere where students open their minds to new thoughts and ideas, a safe place where unconscious awareness becomes conscious understanding. A teacher is also a catalyst to self-discovery in a shared journey where individuals make connections between their own life experiences and the resonant struggles, events and truths of humankind.

My approach to teaching theatre is informed by my study of history, philosophy, anthropology, sociology, psychology and the great works of dramatic literature. These are the threads from which we create a shared theatrical event that articulates profound issues and conflicts of human existence. In the theatre the event is the play; in the process of bringing a play to life, I teach students how to be insightful readers, reflective thinkers, and articulate communicators. I impart an approach to comprehending – in depth – human responses to the predicament of being alive. As we analyze historical works, debate philosophies, sift out worldviews and empathize with characters, we also learn how to live and work with one another in community – in the theatre and ultimately in the world. At its core, the art form is predicated on the belief that comprehension of other – people and culture – is the only reliable guiding force for mutual understanding, and perhaps survival. As a teacher, if I am to comprehend the inner lives of dramatic characters, I must be authentic in my own character. And I must seek to understand the character of my students by allowing them to bring the sum total of their life experience to our shared work.

I learned this lesson as a high school teacher in 1977. The place is New York City. Educational and social programs have been drastically cut. Crime and gang violence moves freely from street to schoolyard. Inside my locked classroom, students smoke, and boom boxes blare amidst the clamor of the first day of a new year. Outside, car horns and sirens underscore my opening remarks. Though I’ve grown up in this city, nothing I’ve learned in my academic coursework has prepared me to deal with this situation. Here are students choosing despair over hope, violence over compassion, and self-destruction over community. The first writing assignment – “What I did this past summer” – isn’t going to work, nor is anything else in my syllabus. So, I asked the students to write about an experience that changed their lives. A moment of silence followed. It was unforgettable and it was the same in every class, and in every class the same question followed: “You mean we can write about anything?” “As long as it changed your life” was my response. And as the words escaped my mouth I knew I was opening a door into the lives of these human beings, into their world. We spent the first month on this project and though the reading and writing was awkward, the stories were powerful and evocative. They teemed with conflict and emotion and they grappled with profound questions. They performed their stories in the lunchroom and the “theatre” was packed.

Twenty-seven years later. I am sitting on the Q43 bus in New York City. A woman approaches me. She is dressed professionally. I can’t remember her name, but I remember her story. She tells me she is a lawyer now and she thanks me for being a good teacher.

Teaching is a mysterious process. We study and prepare. We construct syllabi and lesson plans. We communicate with passion and insight. But the search for a way to engage a single human being is discovered in a moment, one person at a time. And it is a life-changing event.