FERSA Blog is in conversation with MPhil Arts and Creativity in Education alumni (2022) Bella Cavicchi about the place of joy in learning and pedagogical spaces.
Chalk Dust; Pixabay
What brought you to the Arts, Creativity and Education MPhil Program? What was your experience through the three terms of the MPhil and how did it change you?
I came to the Arts, Creativity and Education program (ACE) just after finishing my undergraduate degree at Brown University, where I focused my studies on the relationship between literacy, teaching and learning, and theatre. As an artist, I was (and still am!) fascinated by how we find and create meaning through live storytelling, and so I applied to the ACE program because I couldn’t shake my interest in how that meaning-making might translate into pedagogy.
And I don’t want to be dramatic, but my year at ACE was transformative. Throughout the year, my thinking was challenged and enhanced by the other brilliant artists I had the privilege of learning alongside. My work grew too as I delved deeper into the literature on the “post-human child.” My final dissertation was about young people and their experiences of consent and agency in the drama classroom. It was also for young people in that I wrote it for children as my audience, using language appropriate for a nine-year old reader. Relatedly, and most importantly, ACE had me realise just how much joy and energy I derive from working with kids—and so while I never previously imagined myself as a classroom teacher, I’m not surprised it’s where I’ve ended up!
What have you taken forward into your own teaching practice from the MPhil in Arts, Creativity and Education?
My MPhil research centred on the intersection of children’s agency, devised theatre, and schooling, all of which are relevant to my job as a drama teacher. What I came to argue in my thesis is what I look to change through my teaching practice today: schooling—at least, schooling as we traditionally know it—restricts children’s abilities to express agency, favouring instead the authority of the adult(s) in the room. That said, I also believe that the drama classroom is a space where we see that power dynamic altered, a difference I really try to embrace!
What are your thoughts on the place that joy holds in teaching and educational spaces? Especially in our contemporary context, coming out of a disconnected pandemic teaching model, which arguably has impacted motivations or attention spans amongst students but perhaps also a teaching faculty’s pedagogical model.
I think so much of school is built on systems of control and fear: students are to obey authority or risk punishment and learn only that which has been deemed “important” and “rigorous,” while teachers are locked in an endless stream of data collection to prove pupils’ progress. In that light, joy becomes rather radical, an injection of warmth in a space that can otherwise be cold, impersonal, and divorced from the fact that teaching, at its core, is an act of creation (an art form in its own right!).
But perhaps we can go ever further. I’m paraphrasing here, but one of my favourite authors and poets, Ross Gay, writes in his recent essay collection Inciting Joy that we frequently talk about joy as if it’s a privilege (as in, how lucky are you to be so joyful in a time of such despair) when instead, we can and should advocate for joy as a human right. I’ve latched onto that idea because I believe joy is entangled with our ability to make meaning of ourselves and the world around us, and so if my job as an educator is to help my students learn, I too have a responsibility to foster a space for them to experience and express joy.
Learning; Free Stock Image
What does ‘joy’ mean to you, and what does it mean in the educational space? What is a favourite ‘joyful’ memory from when you were in school?
I find this question hard because I feel it’s easier to define joy by what it is not. Joy is not a fleeting moment of happiness—I think it’s something deeper and more substantial, perhaps happiness paired with the recognition that you’re connected to something larger than yourself. And if joy is this deeper embodied happiness, then it’s intertwined with how we learn, learning being an encounter with understanding. To separate joy from teaching and learning is to make knowledge something abstract and outside of ourselves, something we “possess” (and therefore deposit) rather than collectively witness, construct, and experience. This, to me, would be a disservice to students!
Thinking about my own time in school, what immediately comes to mind as joyful memories are the instances in which I was able to create on my own accord. The fact that I fell in love with drama is no shock when I reflect on how my theatre teachers empowered me and my peers to make—and make with abandon at that. I also remember fondly my time in my yearbook class, and even moments in subjects like History and Math, where I had the agency to raise and follow my curiosity and find laughter in the process.
Do you think there is a correlation between joy and resilience, and could this be explored as something that can be cultivated in classrooms?
What I love most about joy is that it’s a means of connection, a reminder of the community (however largely you want to define it) in which we exist. I think there’s a lot of pedagogical advice out there about how we educators have a responsibility to prepare students for reality after school, a reality that is typically portrayed as harsh and unforgiving (I’m thinking here of stricter classroom practices that offer no leeway to students in order to prepare them for the “real world”). When I read this, I’m taken aback by what we accept as the status quo, resilience here becoming an individual necessity for survival. In my practice, I’m more interested in inviting students to build and embrace a different reality that positions joy at the forefront and resilience as a communal practice. Celebrating and prioritising joy in students’ school experiences now, I believe, is a step towards this.
Stage; Creative Commons License
How do you cultivate joy in your teaching practice?
I look to cultivate joy in two ways. One, I plan my teaching with joy as a priority. As I often tell my students, I want them to enjoy drama because I don’t know otherwise why we do it! I believe that joy and the learning of this practical creative subject go hand in hand, and so I’m always thinking about how students can access joy through theatre-making, even (or especially) in ways that may not immediately present themselves/are not as obvious as acting onstage.
Two—and this is less subject-specific—I am also receptive to joy. I want school to be a more joyful place, just as I want the world to be a more joyful place. It’s a big and idealistic ask, but I have to think that it starts with opening oneself to moments that exist outside of routine, and all the more so when one (like a teacher!) is in a position of authority.
What are the spills in learning spaces that stem from joyful teaching practices and what according to you would be their pedagogical implications?
I’d argue that we are inclined to learn more when we see learning as joyful. It’s why I’m so preoccupied with the idea of agency: if one feels they have some control and power over their experience in the classroom, I think the more meaningful their learning becomes. And joy is connected to that, providing us a new lens through which to understand ourselves, our place in the world, and the knowledge that teaching and learning fosters. And so, the very obvious pedagogical implication is that joy can motivate learning.
I find that we are often wary of mentioning joy outright in curriculum or in policy because it’s not necessarily something you can quantify. But in doing so, I also fear we fail students because we don’t acknowledge their humanness; school merely becomes a transaction of facts and knowledge, and we forget that each student is deserving of joy.
What are some ways in which we can foster more joy in learning spaces for both teachers and students?
I think the short answer here is to be ourselves. So much of my recent teacher training has been about developing your “teacher persona,” which I can understand from a classroom management perspective. But I’ve found young people (and, let’s be honest, most people) forge an easier connection when one is genuine. And so, to reject old adages like “Don’t smile until Christmas,” I look to be my very real human self in the classroom: I laugh when I find things funny, I share stories about my life, and I’m honest about my desire to make drama a source of joy for my students. All of which is also to say that joy begets joy: when I model how I experience, delight in, and share joy in my own life, I create an opportunity for others—younger or older—to feel joy too.
Although, I’d be remiss if I didn’t also mention a very practical note, which is to offer teachers more money and more time. Joy becomes harder to access when you’re underpaid and overworked (!), and we’d do well to remember that on behalf of teachers and students alike.
About the Author
Bella Cavicchi is a theatre producer, educator, and researcher, currently working full-time as a drama teacher at a secondary school outside of London. She is an alumna of Brown University, where she graduated with a B.A. in Literacy and the Performing Arts, and the University of Cambridge, where she graduated with an MPhil in Arts, Creativity, and Education, taking a particular focus at both institutions on the radical possibilities of devising theatre with young people. Her current research interests include the pedagogical implications of our memories of school(ing), as well as students’ experiences of consent, agency, and joy in the classroom.