An Artist’s Guide to Positivity in Practice

 

Introduction

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Part 1: A General Look at Classroom Wellbeing

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a) The purpose & psychology of play

b) Consent, dignity, respect & young people’s rights

c) Boundaries & trust

d) Mixed aged/mixed gender groups & ground rules

e) Identifying trauma in children

f) How the artist manages their own wellbeing around a workshop

g) Responding affirmatively to cultural diversity

h) How to safely and affirmatively address traumatic experiences

i) The hierarchy of school visits

 

Part 2: School-day Behaviour

 

a) A nightmare scenario

b) What to do beforehand to make our day easier

c) During the assembly itself

d) Some random scenarios – & unhelpful or helpful responses

 

Part 3: The Story Hill & Safe Storytelling

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a) Characterisation

b) Forum Theatre

c) Practicalities

d) Shared Storytelling

e) The Story Hill

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Introduction:

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This comprehensive guide is for anyone working with school-aged children. It will also always be incomplete and a little wrong. Times change, society changes, government guidelines change, and so does the world. Lockdown, for instance, had a substantial impact on child development that is still being felt at the time of writing, 2025. At the best of times there can be opposing approaches to young people’s wellbeing. This guide endeavours to take these factors into account but doesn’t claim to be definitive. It is however based on decades of experience in the classroom, along with a philosophy of kindness, to oneself, to teaching staff and to the young people, and it follows a belief that each one of us counts as much as any of us.

Whilst its approach is separate to the UK school curriculum, it is intended to bolster the curriculum and strengthen teaching practice. Learning things is a positive experience, everybody works better when they are happy, when they are part of a team, and when they feel seen, heard and valued.

To that extent, this is an ever-growing guide, and we  encourage, value and take on board all feedback (email positivityinpractice@outlook.com ). None of us are wrong when we are learning to get things right. This guide is a helping hand, so feel free to help if you think we’ve missed anything or made points that could be clearer.

This is a good place to thank the organisations and artists who have contributed towards this guide during the research element of the project, in particular during the industry sharing day sessions at Half Moon Theatre. They are Natasha Ryan of The Poetry Society, poet and educator Red Medusa, Dympna Cunnane of Our Time, and the poet and educator Justin Coe.

To get us going, here is a general point-by-point look at elements of classroom wellbeing, before we look at some specific scenarios and creative tips.

 

PART 1: A general look at classroom wellbeing

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a) The purpose & psychology of play:

 

The difference between examination (testing) and exploration (playing) is that when something is examined it is being assessed, judged, and is serving an external process; it is being worked. But when something is explored it is a personal process, a magical mystery tour designed to enlighten and astound. The journey has no intended destination, the point is the journey itself. In other words, exams are work, but learning is play. And everything that play teaches us gives us the skills to deal well with examination. Additionally, it aids social cohesion and personal development.

 

Play is retelling. It is copying the world around us and sometimes reshaping it into a form that is healthy for us. As babies we copy the close-up behaviour of our parents/carers – laughter, clapping, peek-a-boo, chatter, keywords. As infants we begin to copy what we see in the world around us, playing with pretend tools, costumes, dolls, pictures. Then as young children we play games with other children, learning to organise, compete, collaborate, communicate, and win. We go through childhood and develop our skills at playing, at pretending.

                  

Retelling can be a way of putting right distressing scenarios some of us experience at a very early age. Play helps us explore the ideas of “right” and “wrong”; it teaches us about the value of happy endings and the nature of consequence. It enables us to make sense of life’s journey. Play helps us address childhood trauma while we are still in our childhood.

 

Then, we leave school and stop pretending and we do it all for real. We join an army, we drive a lorry, we prepare meals, we bandage people up, we build cities, get married, make babies. None of it is pretend anymore. We’ve made our games a reality.

 

The “exam” part comes between the playing part and the leaving school part. It is tiny really; it tells us how well we have developed and what kind of reality we have the skills to live.

 

For too many of us, the playing stops forever and life becomes one long exam. But it is vital for us to maintain our sense of play to enjoy a happy well-functioning adulthood, to keep redressing the wrongs of the world and navigate towards a satisfactory outcome; and this is essential if we are adults nurturing the development of children. If we’ve forgotten how to play, we cannot lead children in play; and children who don’t know how to play don’t know how to learn. Not very well, anyway.

 

Without exams, I suspect society would survive. Without play, I doubt it would. Certainly, the skills we build up through play help us to get through exams. Play gives us mental, physical and emotional agility, all of which are life skills that additionally enable us to have job interviews, learn a trade and be paid a wage.

 

Without play…. society simply disintegrates.

 

b) Consent, dignity, respect & young people’s rights:

 

Children have the same rights as adults but are developmentally vulnerable. Consent is an agreement. Two-year olds struggle with the concept of agreement, but by the time children reach school age they are developing powers of negotiation, and an understanding of relativity, consequence and the needs of others. The younger they are, the more they must learn, and the greater the need for explanation, patience and honesty from the adults engaging them. It is a challenge for teachers to be able to spare the time for all this as they have learning objectives, deadlines, assessments, timetables, whole classes and terms to work around. When an artist visits a school, we are privileged to be able to step away from the regime of structure, and therefore we have an increased responsibility to take time to reach agreement; and a greater need, as our visit is more likely to take children out of their own comfort zone.

 

At this point, dignity comes into focus. Every one of us has the right to say no, within the reasonable bounds of law and order. We say no to things that make us feel uncomfortable, that cause us physical pain, that take us into a space recalling mental distress, or that put us in a space where we feel humiliated or degraded. If we feel we are being stripped of our dignity, we have the right to say no. Children do not necessarily have the vocabulary or confidence to articulate this; they may instead articulate through yelling, throwing things, stamping, crying, non-participation. We need to be able to translate their distress in the context of the activity. It is our job to listen to them.

 

If a child objects to something and we ignore them, we are not respecting their anxieties, we are refusing to acknowledge potential past trauma and we are closing down communication. 

 

Everybody has the right to say no.

 

c) Boundaries & trust:

 

That said, children trust us to maintain appropriate boundaries. It is trust because young children have little idea of what appropriate or boundaries mean. What they do know is that they rely on adults for their wellbeing, and that they still have a lot to learn (how to drive, decorate a house, cook a meal, shop, manage budgets). They trust us to do all that for them while they are learning how to do it themselves. 

 

We grown-ups have agreed roles, and it is important that we stick to the roles. Parents are not by definition teachers, but they are carers. Teachers are not by definition parents, but they are carers. And artists are not necessarily teachers or parents. But artists appear to take on the role less of carers and more of playmates. In fact, we are not actual playmates, and are carers only in a fleeting sense, in general working with a class for an hour or so, before moving on. 

 

The consistency of these roles is vital. Co-operation between parent (primary carer), teacher and artist is essential. It is important that we understand our own roles so that children can feel safe with us. 

 

Artists do not give children sweets or gifts. Artists do not set children exams. Artists do not make a merry mess with the children and keep it as their secret. Artists do not yell at children. Artists do not encourage children to lie. Artists do not lie. We do not make promises we cannot keep. We do not undermine the role of the other carers. But what we can do is help children navigate their way around these crucial relationships. Then, we go home, and probably never see those children again. Our visits are specific temporary zones combining play, learning, and life skills. There is a massive element of trust put in a visiting artist, from the school, the children and (in absence) the primary carers. We need to justify that trust.

 

d) Mixed aged/mixed gender groups & ground rules:

 

Generally, groups of random age and gender play well together, but obviously there are issues to be aware of. Any group that isn’t made up of cohorts (ie children from a single class) lacks the cohesion of a pre-agreed set of behaviour expectations, and many artists might reasonably address this at the start by having a discussion about ‘ground rules’. Many of us will try and avoid using the word ‘rules’ as a large chunk of young people see ‘rules’ as things that should be broken; they see rules as a form of control or restriction that is against the spirit of creative play. However, they may also feel that as we are removed from the classroom and associated classroom rules that there is an uncertainty around behaviour expectations. They will be more relaxed in the space if they receive guidance around this. Rather than the artist imposing rules on the group, a general agreement reached through discussion will be more warmly felt by participants. Depending on specifics such as size and age of the group, leading by example can be a simpler method of managing group interaction. Young people are more likely to replicate kind and gentle behaviour displayed by the artist than obey ‘rules’ listed on a whiteboard.

 

Similarly, issues around age variations in the room should not be seen as a problem. Age variation can complicate our approach to creative tasks, but complications are not in themselves problems. In this instance, the complications can be great opportunities. Initially, younger children may worry that they are less ‘capable’ than older children and might struggle to keep up. Older children may fear the activities might be focussed on the younger children and worry about feeling patronised/infantilised. The solution is simply perfect. The children support each other. The elders give the youngers the assistance they need, and the youngers are keen to take advantage of the nurturing and step up to the activities. We play as a team, each one of us with our own skills and idea of play. That’s it. And in doing so, everybody gets a deeper sense of themselves and their place.

 

The issue of gender is more complex, as boys and girls can be oppositional if only in terms of friendly rivalry. Generalisations about typical gender behaviour are not helpful as they disregard the individual. In some instances, it may be true that a group of boys are louder and less focussed than a bunch of girls, but hanging generalised labels on people can be not only incorrect but also harmful to the healthy development of girls who play football and boys who like dressing up. It should go without saying that a visiting artist treats every young person exactly the same. With older children the onset of sexual attraction, whether gay or straight, brings embarrassment, peacocking, shyness, shame and flirting into the room. Obviously, that can create a major shift in dynamics, but there is no reason why these shifts cannot be smoothly absorbed into the positivity in practice ethos. It may mean that our listening and observational skills are more keenly utilised in order to follow the interpersonal behaviour and relationships in the room. The bottom line is that we afford everybody the same dignity and respect.

 

Regarding gender identity, any artist should refer to participants in the terms they prefer. It is very easy to mistakenly misgender very young children, and not really a big deal. As would be expected, an apology and moving on is the most helpful response. I find that proper pronunciation and spelling of children’s names is most often asserted as important to young people as our names reflect our cultural, national and family identity. Many schools have specific policies regarding gender self-ID, and these may vary from school to school, and here we must remember the hierarchy. The teacher has ultimate authority in the room, and the teacher puts school policy into practice. Even if we disagree with a specific school’s policy, it is not appropriate for us to challenge that in the classroom. If we have concerns we need to express, this should be done so through the proper channels. In the staffroom we should ask our teaching contact who is the appropriate member of staff to approach, and what is the best method of doing so (in person, by email, by phone etc).

 

e) Identifying trauma in children:

 

Due to the brevity of most artist visits, it is not our priority to identify individual traumatised children, although we have a legal responsibility to raise concerns if we believe a child is suffering from abuse. This is a Child Protection Policy issue, and I have attached a comprehensive sample policy to the Archives page, which covers multiple child protection scenarios. No, our priority is to take it as given that there are people in the room who may have an unseen disability, neurodiversity, PTSD, have faced prejudice, have a parent in jail, be living with bereavement, displacement, and so on. None of these people necessarily want fingers pointing and eyes staring at them as their own source of trauma is labelled. But neither do they wish to feel their trauma is unacknowledged or disregarded when it comes to participation in creative activities. Making dance, sculpture, poems, theatre, etc about trauma or not trauma primarily reflects how all art is a form of storytelling; but the way we make art is how trauma is addressed. We need to assume that everybody in the room might be living with some kind of trauma, past or present – and that includes teachers and teaching assistants, the children, and the artists ourselves. Outside school, children may be having to live chaotic lives without structure or authority in an unsafe space with no boundaries around space and time. A child living with ongoing trauma may be exhausted, hungry, angry, embarrassed or frightened. Our job is to focus on the opposite of this, to create a space together where children can rest, be nourished, experience kindness and feel safe and supported by everybody in the room. We need to maintain calm, not create stress; we need to structure our time together so there is no rush or panic, and we can absorb lateness, exhaustion or an inability to concentrate without highlighting any of this as problematic. A traumatised child should never be made to feel ashamed of their life circumstances.

 

f) How the artist manages their own wellbeing around a workshop:

 

This is addressed practically in the “Nightmare Scenario” section below. Our psychological wellbeing, working with traumatised children, should not be underestimated. Many of us may be working in schools because we wish in some way to redress some of our own childhood trauma, heal it belatedly by helping children heal today. That is fine, so long as we remember that we are serving the children. It is not about us. The children and teaching staff are not there to help us deal with our own trauma; it is not a co-counselling session. Some children might guess, and some teachers might realise, that we are artists using art to heal ourselves. This is beside the point. Appropriate emotional distancing not only keeps sessions straightforward and comfortable for the pupils and teachers, but also assists our own emotional centring. To function well as visiting artists, we need some level of compartmentalisation. It is also important we depressurise. It is helpful when working specifically with traumatised children to have managerial support systems in place, to talk about our emotional reactions, to let off steam, to cry, to be able to assess our own levels of distress and thus – see above – maintain the boundaries between artist and child. We may all have an “inner child”, but it is not appropriate for us to bring our inner child to school with us. Supportive arts management ensures we are coping and helps us cope. As much as crying is an important healthy emotional outlet, a visiting artist breaking down in tears in front of a class can only cause confusion and further distress. It can be helpful to discuss distressing situations with the teachers, but this should be in a private space. It is okay to show that we are vulnerable, but the children we are working with also need to know that we are strong and that we are well.

 

g) Responding affirmatively to cultural diversity (religion, gender, sexuality, displacement, familial circumstances, etc):

 

It’s easy to be “tolerant”, to say everybody is welcome regardless of religion, gender, sexuality, class, family etc; but it is a lot easier to exclude a whole load of people by omission and presumption. It is a doddle to assume every child in the class has two parents at home (or indeed has a home); it is a doddle to assume those two parents are male and female; it is a doddle to assume those two parents are of the same genealogy as the pupil; to assume that everybody is “straight”; that everybody has a binary gender identity; that nobody is living with a disability; that everybody is essentially of Christian faith; that everybody has English as their “first” language. All we must do is assume – after all, our assumptions are generally right, aren’t they? I doubt any of us would deliberately exclude a child from a shared class experience, but that is what we do if we are lazy, don’t care much, make presumptions based on what we can see, and expect children to simply let us know when we get it wrong. 

 

Nothing silences a child more than presumption. We expect them to raise their hand and say, “Actually, my Mum is dead,” or “Actually, my family is presently homeless,” or “Actually, I’m cared for by my big brother, because I don’t have a dad, and my Mum is too depressed to get out of bed.” 

 

We need instead to remember that every child in the class identifies differently in some way to every other child in the class. These differences are just that – differences. By ignoring those potential differences, we imply that they are simply cracks in our happy reality. They’re not, they’re just life. By constantly checking the inclusivity of our language we help to destigmatise difference, remove the value judgment around difference, and allow space in the room for every child to be celebrated.

 

h) How to safely and affirmatively address traumatic experiences:

 

School child protection policies rightly lean towards identifying signs of trauma/neglect/abuse and the professional and legal processes that address this; but this is a different matter to how we address trauma with a general class that may or may not include children living with various types of trauma.

 

As well as the inclusivity issues explored above, we must also look at distancing and specificality.

 

Firstly, asking pupils in general to write out and act out traumatic scenarios risks reinforcing the distress caused by trauma. Watching an artist perform work that reflects trauma can still be distressing, but it is not focussed on individual children, it does not ask individual children to expose themselves through their own creative work, and it allows traumatised children to understand we can be empathetic and sympathetic towards others. Part 3 of this guide that looks at distancing techniques in storytelling and other artforms. With regard to general sharing between pupils, teachers and artists, it can be enough to acknowledge that trauma is something we all go through at some point, and in the right instances to explore the different types of trauma many of us experience:

• Bereavement – from fictional bereavement to the death of pets, to distant relatives, to friends, to close relatives.

• Social anxiety – we all have social anxiety of some sort, and we all feel some degree of fragility within (or outside) friendship circles. We can also inadvertently upset our friends with behaviour that some might label “mean”. No one wants to be thought of as mean; but how many of us question whether our “banter” is causing more upset than we realise? Have we inadvertently hurt somebody by excluding them from a social activity? By criticising them rather than praising them? By “teasing” them? How many of us realise we are all capable of feeling hurt by our peers, and all also equally capable of causing hurt? Friendships are complex, but we rely on them to give us solidity, confidence, advice, context. Having good friends is essential to helping us live with trauma.

• Poverty – nobody should be made ashamed of being poor. Poverty is relative, and can come and go, but it can also be a spiral that’s impossible to escape. It can result in domestic violence, playground shaming, hunger, sleep deprivation, absence from class, anger management and other anxiety-related issues. It can be helpful for a visiting artist to reference their own childhood poverty (from the distance of being a grown-up artist) so long as we’re not leading the children in a chant of “Eat the Rich”.

• War, Migrancy, Displacement – it is impossible to know who in the room has fled from war, flood, land seizure, or migrated due to parental career change. It is helpful to ask the teacher beforehand if any pupils in class have specific needs or circumstances. The teacher might raise issues around language, home, family, loss, and ability. If we do not get chance to ask this directly beforehand, we must enter the classroom prepared to meet and create with children who may have experienced trauma we haven’t imagined.

• Ability – our role as visiting artists is to include and empower all children in the room. Planning activities that exclude children with different physicalities and skills helps reinforce those differences as negatives. Making yourself aware of children’s differences, acknowledging differences and accommodating them into group activity helps to create a fair and inclusive space for us all. If we also openly acknowledge our own differences (for instance neurodiversity, sensory impairment, dyslexia, etc) this can help to show that we are all, in some way, “different”. Difference is to be celebrated.

 

 

i) The hierarchy of school visits:

 

There are a variety of different people involved in an artist’s visit to a school – organisation manager, head teacher, class teacher, pupils, visiting artist. A clear understanding of the nuances of hierarchy is helpful. The visiting artist is usually at the bottom of the food chain here, and it is always worth remembering that. The system is in place for a reason, and we are part of that system whether or not we agree with all elements of it. The system has been devised to benefit all. A well-functioning school has strong, clear policies that have been worked out over time. Even if we are visiting a school that is struggling to function well and doesn’t seem to have a clear, working system, we must respect the hierarchical set-up. If we rock the already leaky boat, we’re all going under.

 

We should also remember that hierarchy is not some random set-up. It is based on who is in the best position to do a job well and most effectively serve the overall aim – the emotional and intellectual development of young people. This means, ideally, that the hierarchical set-up is one of our most useful tools. Our immediate contact, the teacher in the room, is in charge because they literally know best. This makes them incredibly helpful to the running of our sessions and it is worth remembering that they can do things we possibly can’t. For instance, a good teacher will have a well-worked-out routine for getting the children to form themselves into a circle; they will have a well-established method for securing instant silence and attention that the children are used to (such as clapping a rhythm, raising a hand, ringing a bell, etc); they will have good knowledge of how certain pupils interact and who will benefit (or otherwise) from partnering with who; they will be able to predict and identify behaviour issues ahead of the artist’s own perception. Here’s the best tip you’ll find in this guide:

If in doubt, ask the teacher.

 

 

 

 

 

 

PART 2: School-day Behaviour

 

a) A nightmare scenario:

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We are all guilty. At some point or other, any of us who have visited schools extensively have been guilty of impatience, intransigence, finger-pointing, and laziness. None of us are perfect. All of us have bad days.

 

In fact, all of us have “bad” days that are more challenging than others, due to a poor night’s anxiety-ridden sleep, cancelled/late trains when traveling to a school, a DBS left on the kitchen counter. Does this make us visiting artists liable to display “bad” behaviour?

               

And what of the teachers we are working alongside? Are they stressed about this month’s mortgage payment? Is the over-worked head teacher breathing down their necks due to an upcoming OFSTED visit? Are they behind in their marking due to their own child suffering from a vomiting bug the whole of the previous evening?

               

And the pupils? Were all of them fortunate enough to have taken breakfast? Did some take advantage of the school’s Breakfast Club and then have to put up with mocking comments from their less-impoverished classmates? Did they get detention because they pushed another pupil for name-calling? Is their mum in court this week for stealing a joint of meat from Tesco? Are they on the verge of tears at the injustice of it all? 

                 

Let’s take a look. 

                 

Here’s the scenario: The Nightmare Assembly

             

The visiting artist hurries into the assembly hall, sweating heavily and uncentred due to jogging down the road because their cab got caught in traffic.  As the artist apologises to the school librarian who arranged their visit, they hear a senior staff member addressing the whole school, telling them what a disgrace the children are to themselves and how they let everybody down with their appalling behaviour the previous day. The teacher snaps at a couple of pupils, ordering them out of the hall. The head teacher has temporarily left the room with an emergency at reception, and the ship is unhelmed.

                 

Now, “Let’s welcome our visiting poet for the day.  We expect perfect behaviour and good manners. Here they are; give them a warm welcome, please!”

                 

Out the artist walks. “Good morning everybody. It’s lovely to be here…”

                 

Bad. Bad. Bad.

                 

The artist catches the mood. Two children are talking while another pupil is answering one of the questions about rhythm. The artist reminds them of the teacher’s comments about polite behaviour. While they are saying this, the children continue to talk. It is as if the artist is not there. The artist makes eye contact with the teacher, appealing for intervention. The teacher is not paying attention; they are consulting another teacher regarding a separate matter. While the pupil offering the answer was interrupted by the artist endeavouring to interrupt the interrupters, the teachers who surely should be stepping in, are now themselves being disruptive. Sensing the disarray, other pupils begin to chat too.

               

The artist raises their voice. They use their “stern” tone, calling for silence in the room. The two teachers continue talking. The two pupils continue talking. The artist decides to make an example of the pupils, like the senior staff member did. “Right! You two,” the artist calls out. The artist doesn’t know their names. They do not answer to you two. The artist points a finger. “Yes, you two! How dare you talk over the top of me while I’m making a point about respecting whoever is speaking? Out! Go on. Leave. Now.”

             

The pair leave, sulkily. The artist turns in general despair to the teachers lining the hall. “Can I ask,” they say, meaningfully, “that we all focus on ensuring everybody’s attention. So there is no talking while someone else is speaking.” The artist fixes their gaze pointedly on the two staff members who are still muttering to each other.

                 

It is an ugly mood. The time is five minutes past nine. Everybody in the hall looks grumpy.

                 

Who is guilty of “bad” behaviour?

*

The issue here, of course, is the application of the word “bad”. In the above scenario, everybody is “bad”. We are bad, the children are bad, and the teachers are bad. Even if we weren’t visiting the school today, the situation would be similar: the teachers still struggling to cope; the head teacher panicked by the coming OFSTED visit; the children hungry, tired, bored, and following the examples set by everybody around them. And us, of course, making everything a whole lot worse.

This scenario is never going to play out perfectly. There are many unknown circumstances fuelling it which are outside our control. It is a lot easier for us to get things wrong than to get things right. But getting things right looks incredibly easy. Sometimes we make a couple of tiny missteps, mis-reading the room, and we fail to achieve the happy vibes we’re aiming for. This is okay. We can tell ourselves that we will rise to the challenge but must not berate ourselves if it doesn’t suddenly turn into the Best Ever Assembly. Being kind and gentle to ourselves is the first step towards being kind and gentle to others.

 

b) What to do beforehand that will make our day easier?

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1. Over-prepare. Our sessions should always have some sort of structure, with a view to its intended outcome. But rigid plans create tension. If things don’t go exactly as intended there can be increasing friction. Some creative games simply do not flow with the moment, and we might not know this until we are in that moment. In which case, it is wise to move on to another activity; but in order to do this, we need to have spare activities prepared. The more activities we have in our bag, the easier it is for us to dance around the session’s structure.

 

2. Prepare for travel chaos. Book a train that will get you to your session early. If this train is cancelled the next train will get us to the school on time. It is better to have a shorter sleep than a restless one, beset by anxiety.

 

3. Have everything you need for your visit in place the night before, including contact numbers, school address, DBS etc. See above re sleepless night.

 

4. Be ready for the school’s schedule to change at zero notice. Schools are typically constantly juggling activities and timetables. Expect that session times will change, rooms will change, year groups will change. If you are working in a single room all day, allow that classes may arrive measurably late and have to be registered; a sixty-minute session can easily be a forty-five-minute session. Don’t sweat it. That allows us more breathing space. It’s a gift!

 

5. Contact the school if late, which will reduce everybody’s stress; and

 

6. Stay nourished, build breakfast and any necessary snacks into your planning. 

 

c) During the assembly itself:

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1. Respect the status quo. The staff member leading the assembly is responsible for school behaviour. Look to them to lead on this. Whichever way they choose to do this must be respected by the artist, even if it does not appear agreeable to us; we must allow ourselves to work around the school’s system and its rules. It is far more challenging if authority is absent and we must take charge of discipline ourselves. However, if we are visiting a school that is struggling on that particular day, for whatever reason, sometimes we just have to step up and take command of the space. So how do we go about this?

 

2. Be ourselves. Don’t try and impose order in a manner that isn’t coming from within. We’ll feel fake, and everyone in the room will pick up on that. Far better to trust ourselves and command the room with our creative energy. Everyone is miserable. That means we have a really satisfying job: cheering everyone up. I like to imagine I’m at a nephews and nieces birthday party and my job is to make everybody smile.

 

After introducing myself for a minute, I always kick off with my secret weapon, an alphabet rap. The rap always takes everybody by surprise and at the same time everyone loves it. It’s a great way to get people on my side. Whatever our style or personal skills, we all have an activity or demonstration that delights and surprises everybody. We have a gift. Give it.

 

3. Respond to everybody in the room the same way we would if they were adults. Adults without fail display the same disruptive, anti-social behaviour that children do. But when grown-ups disrupt our perfect plans we do not tell them off for bad behaviour. We seek out a socially acceptable way to respond, that will not cause upset. We often do not afford children the same respect. It can seem easier to label them as badly behaved. They are not. No one, of any age, wants to be told they’ve behaved badly. We want to be encouraged, congratulated.

 

4. Depending on age range, some classes may be reluctant to ask or answer questions, especially if they feel you need them to. If you can stand to ask and answer your own questions and chat away amiably but one-sidedly, the pupils tend to forget it’s not cool to ask questions and begin to do so.

 

5. Entertain in our own way. We don’t need to be rappers or joke-tellers. A smaller, quieter energy can excite young people just as much as a big showbiz one. Use PowerPoint displays if we have slides that are accessible and helpful, but not because we think that’s what we’re supposed to do. Only use PowerPoint if you love PowerPoint. Conversely, playing a YouTube video of a famous poet performing or a TV clip from a Shakespeare play, can transfix a room. And if some of the pupils are chatting, it’s not us they’re chatting over. Enjoy the breathing space.

 

6. Allow the noise. It is easy for us to assume eruptions of noise are bad. In fact, as adult crowds we will often create all kinds of cheers, chants, rumbles of approval, affirmations to the person next to us. It is natural. It is also natural when a large group of children do it. Rather than try to stamp out the noise, standing back and allowing the excitement to play itself out for a minute is far more agreeable than trying to mute everybody. And more successful too.

 

7. Read the fidget. When children begin to get fidgety we are being told that listening time is over, and it’s time to change activity. React to this message. We visiting artists are enjoying a cultural exchange with the young people in the room. We must listen to them as much as, if not more than, they are listening to us.

 

Thinking about all these things will help, but mainly it’s worth remembering to be kind to everybody in the room, not least ourselves. Sometimes a bad day is just a bad day. But there is no such thing as a bad person. Be good to yourself, and enjoy spreading the word.

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d) Some random scenarios – & unhelpful or helpful responses:

 

• Two pupils won’t stop talking to each other. We can ask one of them to sit elsewhere in the room and thank them for their cooperation. Or we can yell at them to shut up.

 

• One child adamantly refuses to participate in a creative circle game. We tell them they must participate. They bluntly refuse. This blatant case of disobedience and disrespect needs stamping out before others follow the same route. We order the child to leave the room. Or, we say, “That’s okay, you can just watch, and when you feel comfortable about joining in, you’re very welcome.” We have no idea what is causing their anxiety, but we can listen to their need. Whilst allowing the pupil to opt out, we are letting everybody in the room know that we have generous intentions, and a promise to all that the game is well worth joining in. Games are intended to be fun and relaxing and gently leading the pupils into their creative activity. If we need to enforce a game, it’s a sign that something has gone amiss.

 

• One child is doodling on a sheet of paper while we are teaching. We can snatch the paper off them, scrunch it up and throw it in the bin. Or we can observe that they are doing what they need to to retain focus and congratulate them for their initiative.

 

The same child then folds their sheet of paper into a paper plane and throws it towards another pupil. We can ignore it – they’re just having fun aren’t they? – or we can take the plane and bin it, explaining that the plane is unhelpful, planes flying around the room put us off our concentration and don’t help any of us to learn. This can be done with a smile and a kind voice; but the act itself leaves a “bad” feeling in the air. We’ve stopped a child from having fun. But they were being disruptive in their behaviour. We are now in conflict.

 

The issue here, once more, is the judgmental approach. The child isn’t thinking, “I know, I’ll disrupt this lesson with a paper plane.” They are just bored. They are making a paper plane because they are bored. They are bored because we are boring. We are bad, ruining their day by giving a boring lecture about personification.

 

So, how do we resolve this? Firstly, the paper plane is disruptive – of the boredom. It is a direct message to us: You are boring. Do something interesting.

 

The message delivered by paper plane is incredibly helpful and generous. Rather than express annoyance, we should display our gratitude for the constructive feedback. A confident artist might give voice to this; perhaps unfold the paper plane and pretend it’s a letter. We read out a ‘message’: Dear Poet, this has just turned into blah blah blah blah blah. We want a game!”

 

“Thank you,” we say to the pupil who threw the plane. “So, here’s a game you’ll all enjoy…”

 

Some of us may not feel confident going off-script and risking getting it wrong. But the bottom line is: it is time for a game.

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• But let’s stop for a second. Maybe it’s all gone wrong now. Maybe because we made a joke out of it, another pupil is now throwing their own paper plane, and three or four more are now simultaneously folding paper planes. The class is about to erupt.

 

Rewind. There is an issue here, but it is not about bad behaviour, rather it is about not planning ahead. At an earlier point we and the teacher, knowing that the pupils will be doing some writing, have prepared for this by giving them all sheets of paper. But a child will play with whatever is in front of them. They have a choice to make – they can listen to examples of metaphors, or they can make paper planes. Effectively, we’ve provided them with that choice, and they’ve simply taken it. Again, not an example of “bad” or “good” behaviour, but an instance of poorly thought-through planning. A child will focus on what is in front of them, which is why working in a circle, if practical, is ideal. In a circle, what is in front of us is each other, all equal, and all creating together.

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• So, experience more than empathy has taught us to only give out the writing material when it’s time for the pupils to write. It’s like the classic mistake – which I still sometimes make – whereby we try to give younger pupils a list of instructions in one go, and that first instruction is, “You’ll be working in pairs.”

 

We begin to give the second instruction, but the room has instantly dissolved into chaos, as all the pupils begin negotiating who they will pair with. Why aren’t they listening? we ask ourselves. They’re not listening because we gave them the final instruction first. Think.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PART 3: The Story Hill & Safe Storytelling

 

I’m a wordsmith, so it makes sense that I should make use of stories in my craft, but stories are also found in paintings (both abstract and literal), in dance, percussion, orchestration and so on.

 

The challenge to any artist is: how do we find ways of addressing traumatic experience that both tells a story yet also maintains a safe and healing space?

 

First of all, let’s look at…

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a) Characterisation:

 

Personification: we should not be asking children to re-enact their own traumatic experiences in the first person. If we are going to tell a story from a first-person narrative, we need to think about trying on different experiences like a hat, so that “I” is not me, it is a role that is being played. If we ask children to pretend that they speak with the voice of loneliness, or fear, or kindness, that they personify the feeling, it is clear from the beginning that the child playing out a role such as Hate, or Friendship, isn’t referencing themselves (though they may, privately, mine their own experiences for details, at their own leisure and place of comfort). Instead, we get to explore these feelings as if they are fictional characters. We can ask ourselves how might Selfishness walk, how might they speak, what might they do for fun? We might imagine drawing a picture of Selfishness, or creating percussion summing up the mood they create when they walk down the street.

 

We might explore what happens when Loneliness meets Play. Or when Panic meets Calm. Even if we are storytellers or poets, we can do this without words – with mime, primitive vocalisation, copying rhythms, etc.

 

Animals: we might imagine if our chosen emotion was represented by an animal, what animal would that be? The Sneaky Snake? The Depressed Worm? The Joyful Puppy? Having characters who are animals is a very useful distancing technique.

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Life Stories: We might think about the life stories of animals. Priti the Proud Penguin sitting on her egg along with all the other proud penguin parents, but oh no here comes the snowstorm and Gita the Greedy Polar Bear. Is there a brave and clever penguin who can lead them all to safety? Can we devise a penguin Dance of Fear? A penguin Song of Celebration? Let’s learn how to draw a picture of a close-up of a bear’s jaws open wide, flashing its fangs. Is there a comforting chant that penguins all share together before going to bed at night? Is there a penguin chick that hasn’t yet learnt the words – or how to avoid the Polar Bear’s jaws?

 

Play: Creative sessions are not therapy sessions. They do not involve sitting at a desk with a counsellor explaining how you feel about your father’s terminal cancer. They are not personal memoirs. They are not What We Did in The Summer Holidays. Creative sessions are play. They are a group of children and some adults inventing things, laughing together, dressing up, being daft, being safe. It is feeling joy rather than fear (even if making a story about Fear). As we know when we get older, joy and fear sit next to each other squished up very closely. At a funeral, we are as likely to laugh as cry, and are intent on celebrating as well as mourning.

 

Our class, if it chooses, can split into groups representing four different feelings. In the safety of numbers, we can see what happens when these different feelings interact, we can let our story grow organically into whatever shape we wish it to take. And if we feel less comfortable being a certain emotion, we can switch to another emotional group that we prefer.

 

In other words, we are playing. The artist and teacher are in charge of keeping order and making sure the play runs smoothly and that everybody is happily engaged – but the children are the creative leaders. The children choose how the game plays out.

 

Super-heroes, villains and superpowers: This is another effective distancing technique as super-heroes and super-villains have secret identities. No one knows the face behind the mask, no one knows the real name behind The Power King or Sonic Ray Girl. In other words, this is just another dressing up game. Inviting children to create a super-person and invent some magic power allows their imagination to give flight to their inner feelings and thoughts – with zero personal consequence. It also allows children to write about “baddies” from the safe perspective of fantasy, and invites them to “let off steam” in a safe and playful manner.

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b) Forum Theatre:

 

Forum Theatre is a well-known practice in theatre in education, and various examples of it can be found on YouTube. As with other creative exercises, different artists have different preferences and techniques regarding its application. It is creating a scenario using suggestions offered up by the group. There may be two or more characters, with further added or taken away depending on the whims of the group. Different members of the group can volunteer to act out the roles, and these can be constantly changed as desired, so that everybody who wants a turn acting can get a go. The constant replaying of the scenario, playing it out with different plot developments based on “what if” suggestions by the group, allows us to explore conflict, different behaviours, consequences and resolution. Every story in the world is simply one version of events. Forum Theatre allows us to reshape our stories in a safe environment. Whilst the dialogue/acting is made up on the spot, following the group’s direction, the different versions make a solid starting point for individuals or groups of pupils to create their own definitive version. At the same time, we learn that a “version of events” is exactly that.

 

c) Practicalities: 

 

The type of play/storytelling we engage in is also dictated by practical issues such as the age of the children, the size of the group, the session length and number of sessions, but these issues should be addressed in our pre-planning, including discussion with our arts managers and our lead contact for the school we’re visiting. I’m not going to discuss those choices here as planning and practice are separate to each other.

Nevertheless, every group is different, and the artist might have to make some on-the-spot decisions, with the group, about what type of storytelling suits them best. As a generalisation, primary school-aged children are more likely to want to dress up in animal costumes, and secondary school-aged children more likely to engage in solo writing, more in-depth theatre work and a more overt approach to challenging subject matter. But never assume! A certain group of sixteen-year-olds might benefit from daft Animal Playhouse, and a certain group of ten-year-olds might insist on having a frank discussion about Naziism. Our job is to guide them safely through this, using our instincts, the benefit of experience, teaching staff affirmation (the teacher knows the children a hundred times better than us, and is more suited to be aware of potential triggers and how to avoid them) and aiming to lead everyone in the room into a happier space. A key word of caution at this point: an unhappy or distressed child might not be overtly displaying their unhappiness; they may be sitting still and quiet while becoming increasingly upset. It sounds tricky, but we must try to listen to the silent children as much as the noisy ones. A simple way of identifying this is using a fun activity that includes the whole class; if we are working with some kind of circle of joy, it is easier for us to spot individuals who are not in a comfortable space.

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d) Shared Storytelling:

 

It is helpful to engage in group storytelling. This avoids individuals worrying about whether their story is valid, or whether it’s as well-told as other stories. It is also a handy distancing technique as the story told is ours rather than mine. Creating a story all together is a fresh story in itself, involving the forging of fresh friendships, strengthening trust, making new memories and opening future possibilities. It helps us to tell a story together rather than amplify any gulf between storyteller and audience. We can be both storyteller and audience, as is the nature of collective play. It also allows individuals to focus on their preferred learning style rather than striving to produce something without confidence. Some of us enjoy acting, some enjoy rapping or singing, some creating visuals, some dancing, recording, etc. As the saying goes, we are better together. Making a story together is bonding, confidence-building, voice-giving and helps us to see a forward-moving path in our lives outside as well as within the creative space.

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e) The Story Hill: 

 

Again, there are different versions of this that are easy to find online, but it really boils down to this very simple structure:

 

What single word sums up what we want our story to explore? Friendship? Community? Betrayal? Bereavement? Justice?

 

Main Character (whether animal, superhero, a child character, or an adult)

Identifying the Main Character’s weak spot and key strength (which may or may not relate to the key theme we have chosen to explore).

 

Devising one or more Support Characters based on the relationship they have with the MC; this relationship might well reflect the MC’s strengths and weaknesses. For instance, they might be a best friend who needs looking after by the resilient MC – or they might be confident and strong, and the MC relies on their constant support. The Support Character might be a pet that is the MC’s only friend/family. The SC might be a character that the MC meets along his journey, who either helps or is a hindrance, part of the MC’s learning curve/personal development, or simply be a foil for our MC’s personality traits.

 

What is the journey our MC is going on? Is it a metaphysical journey – learning how to act with courage for example – or a journey with a specific destination – such as to a new home, to a place of safety or to a land of abundant riches. The actual journey and the metaphysical journey can combine, working alongside each other as the MC evolves.

 

But before they get very far, they face a threat or an obstruction to their journey. This may be in the form of a storm, a huge mountain, sickness, accident, fire-breathing dragons, giants, malevolent trolls, a school bully, a rival, false accusation, etc. This is the bump in the road, the obstacle, the hill the main character must climb to progress with their journey.

 

How does the MC get over this obstacle? By growing, by being strong, by overcoming a life-long fear, by realising what kind of person they really are, by developing a new skill, by being aided by someone the MC has previously aided, etc. It will likely involve the support character/s who may be sacrificed at this point, or who might need to be rescued, or who might simply be the foil for the MC’s evolving skills.

 

A lot of strong stories will sacrifice a support character as a small loss can make a substantial gain feel much more of an achievement, along with the realisation that we don’t always simply get everything we want just because we are good and strong and work hard. Sometimes we must carry our losses with us as we approach a happier ending. These elements are all the whim of the “writers”, reflecting their own mood and the kind of story that they are compelled to create (the single word theme chosen at the beginning).

 

The end of the story is when the MC reaches their destination. They have grown as a consequence of their journey; they know more about themselves; their resilience has taken them to a space that is healthy for them. Wherever they may be geographically, wherever they may be circumstantially, this destination – in the here and now of the final scene – is Home. It is where the MC can best be themselves and live the life they ought to. It is the very definition of a Happy Ending. (Unless you are one of those storytellers who chooses to leave us shattered and stunned!)

 

You can see examples of safe, distanced poetry/storytelling on the Videos Page on this site. We make these stories, together, the children and the adults, and in so doing we have ultimate control and are empowering ourselves. We are seizing the narrative and shaping the advancing story into a satisfying and pleasing shape. We become the tellers of our own tales. It is with our own words, our own imagination, our own needs. The power of storytelling is ours.