We humans define ourselves through creative expression, and the collaborative art of theatre allows us to celebrate our communal nature. However, an aura of mystery still lingers around the liberating act of performance. As a teacher of theatre, I emphasize to my students that there is no secret, no mystery; acting is quite simple. Often, it is the simplest tasks in life we struggle with the most. I continually emphasize to my students in my performance classes that they already contain all that is needed to excel in acting, voice or movement. It is cultivating an awareness of their body and mind and the connection between the two that will empower them not only as theatre-makers, but as fellow humans seeking to enrich our collective experience.

In my acting, voice or movement classes, we embark on a short guided visualization at the start of each session. We imagine a threshold—on one side, we exist in our judgmental, “data-processing” mindset, and on the other side, we imagine ourselves free of self-doubt, inhabiting our “beginner’s mind.” As we symbolically and physically step across this threshold together, we create a learning environment that encourages self-discovery, receptivity to the experiences of others and an enthusiasm for new and exciting observations, no matter how small.

I use a somatic, or body-mind integration pedagogy in my performance courses with the aim of helping students to identify and contextualize their own mental, physical, emotional and spiritual state. From this foundation, we can build strong active listening skills using Meisner activities. We can call back our “data-processing mind,” to use Stanislavsky’s tools to construct our objectives and given circumstances. We work to physicalize these goals using Rudolph Laban’s movement efforts, punching, slashing or dabbing through monologues and scenes. We can cultivate our creative imaginations by using Michael Chekhov activities to aide us in refining our characterizations, discovering what it might feel like to tie our shoes with glass hands.

All along the way, I continually ask the students, “What new, interesting or different things did you experience?” I never forget my follow up question, “Did anyone have a different or contrasting experience?” The process of sharing and self-discovery serves not only to aid the students in the development of their own acting process, it also helps the students cultivate empathy for their peers and classmates. The collaborative nature of this practice can give students the tools they need in their respective studies, careers and relationships as they progress through their lives.

When not in the studio classroom, I again encourage students to bring themselves to their work. Students come from a variety of backgrounds, and it’s important to me that the texts we study represent the contributions of a variety of playwrights. I insist that any dramatic literature or theatre history course I teach include playwrights who may be people of color, indigenous people, female-identifying, part of the LGBTQ+ community and/or a member of the Disabled community. The stories we tell and the stories we study define us, and it is the responsibility of the instructor to ensure that the story of theatre is not one that echoes the legacy of colonialism.

One of my favorite assignments in such a course involves asking students to assume any role of interest in the production of the play in question, such as a costume designer, director or dramaturg, and to analyze the play from this perspective. Students will present in groups, each member being highlighted with their own unique contributions. Engaging with dramatic texts this way encourages students to see these works as living, evolving pieces that can be shaped by their creativity. This sort of active learning gives students agency in their education and prepares them for positive professional collaboration in their chosen fields.

Every student deserves access to their own education, regardless of perceived impairment or Disability. As the classroom instructor, it’s my responsibility to work with the students to achieve learning outcomes, so if that means that I have to completely redesign an improv game so that it’s sensory friendly or ensure that I choose one that doesn’t require the use of legs, I will feel a deep satisfaction in knowing that performance pedagogy is being made more accessible. I set out to create courses using the principles of Universal Design, aiming for flexibility in coursework to set students up for success. Like myself as an educator, this process continues to evolve with every course I teach. Every adjustment follows me into the next course, and I am eager to learn and grow alongside my students.

As a b/Blind person in the performing arts, I have been forced to use this creative impulse again and again to find solutions to classroom problems and feel the same joy in sharing solutions as I do in discovering knowledge. I’m no stranger to classrooms that don’t proactively invite diversity and bodily variation; these classrooms invariably lacked innovation that can only be found through a variety of lived experiences. A fellow Blind actor has said “We are the great life-hackers” in reference to our unending routine of trying to find ways of existing in a sighted world that does not see the Blind. This attitude rewards creativity and ingenuity and has no space for activities that are done just because the able-bodied have always done them, regardless of any students’ or colleagues’ background, this creativity, pragmatism and curiosity invigorate me as a person. Childlike curiosity brings students to the classroom and their imaginative focus will guide them through their classes into their respective careers.