Our first night

Rainy and cold at the Pillow. Autumn has set in here. So strange to have come from the heat of Atlanta to suddenly this. Is as disorienting as a beginning could possibly be. We begin. A circle full of inquisitive, beautiful, impassioned people. So many hearts/minds at work trying to step into this universe that we will all create together in the next seven days. Darwin in the neotropics, " No one can stand in these solitudes unmoved, and not feel that there is more to (hu)man(kind) that the mere breath of his body." Speaks similarly for me at the Pillow.

When I think of the moments of transformational learning that happened when dance was the tool for learning, these are some of the stories. Moments of grace and catastrophe.
- Imagination. Bobby was a freshman in an English class for freshmen who didn't have the literacy skills to handle high school. (This was a residency when Michael was my co-artist.) Bobby was willing, but confused. As light bulbs gradually went off for the rest of the class, Bobby was amiable, but the light bulbs of learning weren't going off. On the last day as we did our circle check in/check out in came around to Bobby. He said, "I realize that I have an imagination." I made pleasing sounds and moved on to the next student. He stopped me and repeated, "I realize that I have an imagination." He elaborated, "When I was a kid the other kids would grab a cardboard box and say, 'let's play racing cars' and I didn't get it. It was just a cardboard box. I didn't get it. But now I get it. I realize now, I have an imagination!" Later as the class worked on their written reflections I sat down next to Bobby. He wasn't writing. He was listening. The school band was rehearsing in another room, the sound wafting through. Bobby said, "I can hear the music and see all these things happening. This has never happened to me before. I have an imagination, and it's not going away is it?"
- L'ana Burton, dance teaching artist, did a residency in a school in CT with 4th graders - the Holocaust Unit. They made two dances, and a third surprise dance. The first dance was from what they read. They created movement images from their readings. The second dance was from their own writings that were responses to what they were learning and feeling. The third dance was a gift to L'ana. When it came time for the whole school sharing to show the dances the students announced that they had learned so much from L'ana that they had choreographed a dance for her that expressed the learning they had done with her. I am looking at this gift from the students as both an assessment of their experience, and their docudance
- Biology class. THe students were in breakout groups creating dances using cell structure as the source material. Dan, the Biology teacher, and I were standing watching and chatting as they worked. One student came running over to us and said, "I don't know who to ask, but we need to know or we can't finish our dance. We need to know how does the MRNA molecule transfer information? Is it a direct pathway or indirect? What is the quality of the movement? We need to know so we can put it in the movement." Dan said, "I don't know....." "Okay," said the kid, "We'll figure it out." ANd he went running back to his group. Dan turned to me and said, "No one has ever asked me that before..." It was a transformational moment for Dan.
- The broken glass. It was at the end of a Biology class. A double period class. Dan (same teacher) announced that when the bell rang, they should finish up their dances and then he would let them take a break but they didn't need to bolt when the bell rang. One troubled young man, who had finally gotten totally on board with the movement work, and was trying some amazing physical expressions of the science ideas - didn't hear. He was too busy dancing. WHen the bell rang, like Pavlov's dogs, he bolted. In a grand exuberant leap out the door - pushing the door of the classroom, which unexpectedly hit the corner of a desk, and the glass panel in the door shattered. THe remaining students were shocked. And high school drama ensued. One student went running after the boy, others gossiped immediately. The boy hadn't realized what had happened and had flown off full tilt down the hall when his friends caught up with him. Stunned, scared. In trouble. The boy did the unexpected (according to all later accounts) He went to the principal and told her that he just broke the glass in the door of the biology classroom. THe principal and the boy returned to the classroom. Dan and I were there, picking up pieces of glass with some of the other students. The boy showed the principal what happened. She listened. Everyone listened. Finally she said, "Well, I think you will have to pay for the glass." "I know," he said. Pause. Everyone was holding their breath. "How much do you think that will be?" She said, "About $70-75." A huge sigh of relief. "I can do that", he said. And then class resumed. I walked down the hall with the principal. I congratulated her on having a school where that kid would come to her and take responsibility. "Oh no," she said, "This is thanks to the Pillow. You guys have a way of pulling a sense of responsibility out of these kids. Even kids like ___"
- There are so many stories.....