Reflecting on Rules
As the new semester starts, I have started to think about implementing some of my research and my learning into my teaching practice. One of the objectives of my research is to demonstrate the value of engaging animation HE in conversation with the research on play and playfulness. This got me thinking about how to build a playful environment within the tight confines of the University’s course-based timetable, and my own teaching contract; 0.2 is not a lot of time to try and engage students in the “implicit (playful) structures” Nørgård et al. suggest as part of their signature pedagogy for playful learning (Nørgård et al, 2017). But perhaps there are simple
For the last 6 or so years I have been working with Hyper Island, a “global learning provider” that aims to leave their students “Real World Ready” (Hyper Island Toolbox, date unknown). Hyper’s belief is that “Learning means being constantly engaged, passionate, trusting and curious about the changing world – and by doing” (ibid). It’s a strange setup, part business and ‘thought-leadership’ training, and part University. The course I re-designed and re-wrote for their Motion Design course at their Karlskrona campus in Sweden is a Storytelling course, rooted in providing students with the core skills and confidence to translate their loose ideas into stories.
Hyper Island is good at many things, but in my experience one of their key strengths lies in their focus on the ‘soft skills’[1] of team collaboration and team work. At Hyper, that’s not achieved just through group projects - it’s through the culture that’s ingrained in the teaching and curriculum styles as well. Hyper also makes its methods and tools available to students - and the public. Openness, availability and communication are key skills developed and nurtured at Hyper.
If this sounds like I’m an evangelist for the Hyper way of doing things, I’m not. It’s a strange mix, as some of these practices feel part wellness, part business, all-Millenial/Gen Z ‘actualisation’ style practices. I write that last sentence with a healthy dose of irony. But it took me years to get my head around the way they prioritise and run sessions. I still remember my first workshop, presented with a check-in exercise where everyone said their name, an answer to a (now forgotten) question and then closed by saying they were ‘checking in’. It was, to my un-indocrinated eye, thoroughly odd. Years on, and I’ve just about got my head around the slight cult-ishness of the check-ins, check-outs, Point of Departure workshops, Team Retrospectives and ‘Energisers’ - which do exactly as you’d expect, bringing some energy into a room or session. Or rather, to be clearer, I understand some of the motivations behind these practices. Because they work. The students seems to work well together; group projects - of which Storytelling is one - have the usual group dynamic issues, but these are often reflected on and learning/teaching moments are highlighted by the students themselves. In essence, what it feels like is there’s a lot more student ownership and buy-in than I have experienced at most UK HE institutions I’ve taught at.
Obviously, there’s a lot more going on at Hyper Island Karlskrona that encourages students to work and play well together - social events, workshops, etc. Their structure and curriculum is also entirely different to the University’s. But something they’re doing is working; I believe they’re successful because what Hyper seemsexcellent at doing, is building a culture. And while all the games, workshops and activities might possibly fall into Bogost’s ‘chocolate-covered broccoli’ (Bogost 2014) (using ‘fun stuff’ to mask the bitter reality of ‘work’ a la Google’s cafeteria slides etc.), they seem to create a culture in Hyper Island students of sociability and positivity, if nothing else.
I have a feeling there’s a lot to be learned from that in current HE arts teaching. I also have a suspicion this kind of approach to classrooms would, in some departments at least, be looked down on. I joke with my students about the processes feeling a bit ‘hippy-dippy’ but to trust the process; however, staff would need to do the same. When describing these kind of practices to colleagues, the reaction I get is often slightly glazed eyes. I sympathise. I didn’t ‘get it’ either. However, I can absolutely see the value in this kind of delivery, and so can colleagues when they see it in action: during my AFHEA qualification peer observation, the feedback I received from my observer was that through check-in exercises, I set a friendly and engaging tone to the class which seemed to encourage engagement. As such, I want to try and combine some of the methods I use with Hyper Island with some of my academic research, and see how my current batch of students react to this.
I recently trialled some of these ideas with a year group. I wanted to test two things: the use of check-in exercises at the start of a seminar to set the context or ‘the mood’ for the work ahead” (Hyper Island Toolbox, date unknown); and the possibility for developing a set of ‘studio rules’ that students would be invested in.
Check-in exercises not only set the tone, but also give an opportunity to engage in the subject matter and serve as an opportunity to build trust between students and teachers: this isn’t something they’re being asked to do, it’s something we’re all participating in together. As we were discussing adapting stories in the lecture, the seminar check-in question was “what is the most recent adaptation you have seen/heard/read/consumed?”. The responses from students were, by and large, thoughtful and interesting. Unprovoked, many of the students offered reasons for their choices, often elaborating with opinions and reflections on their choices. Subsequently, the students felt engaged and ready to participate in the session.
I then suggested to the students that we took a step back for a second and wrote some rules for their time on this project. This was in line with my belief that in order to play, you need to set rules - and that the rules need to be set by the people participating themselves rather than bestowed upon them. Whilst the students came up with some interesting suggestions for rules, the energy in the room was low, and the suggestions generally came after being prompted. To be blunt, reflecting on the process, it felt like the students were coming up ideas for rules because I asked them to - not because they saw the intrinsic value of the process of creating and working within (or, consequently, challenging) rules.
I believe the students didn’t fully understand my reasoning behind wanting to co-create rules, and the potential benefits they might have on their practice. Perhaps this is partly due to them having already had two years of HE at Edinburgh where they haven’t had to do such tasks; I can certainly see why creating rules halfway through something feels strange. It also could be that I didn’t explain clearly, or in enough detail, what I consider to be the benefit of creating rules. But also, I didn’t make the process of creating these rules particularly engaging; it wasn’t fun, wasn’t something students could (or did) feel particularly invested in. Instead of allowing time to explore, explain and experiment with this process, I tacked in onto an unrelated session and gave students about 10 minutes to participate. I threw the students the task of writing themselves some rules, in the middle of a seminar, following a lecture, supporting a course title; in essence, I asked them to do something unrelated (on the surface at least) to the course they were attending. Because of the time restrictions, I gave them very little explanation as to why I feel rules are important. There was also very little room to develop the idea of rule setting; instead, I asked them to throw out rules they thought might be relevant. I got the impression the students were providing suggestions because I told/asked them to - not because they cared about this process. That notion was supported by the palpable lack of energy in the room.
Whilst the experience was, for me at least, disappointing, it highlighted some really valuable and interesting learnings, and some opportunities to develop the idea of how we build and shape studio culture. Instead of throwing it out there as a quick task, perhaps it should be more of a workshop - something that allows students to be invested in the task at hand. This could perhaps create an opportunity for play - as the subject is about play and rules, finding playful ways of exploring this could be exciting. Not only that, but using it as an excuse to play could achieve exactly what we’re trying to achieve anyway - a sense of structure that allows the students to play within.
This raises another issue to reflect on: what is the purpose of creating rules as a studio? As an individual, it becomes more obvious - it creates something to flex against, to challenge and to focus. I have rules for each creative project I undertake. Sometimes these are written down (e.g. a creative brief with specific outcomes) sometimes they are more implicit (I want to use this software, I need to finish by January, this film needs to be X minutes long, etc). As a group of creative people working together, what purpose does co-creating rules serve? Perhaps a better question there is, what purpose does co-creating rules serve if you’ve not yet introduced the culture of working as a group, together. In order to bring students to a place where they feel co-creating rules is relevant, they need to feel like they’re working - and playing - together in the first place. Perhaps it’s not so much about creating a single set of rules for the studio then, but a personal set of goals, ones that encourage students to be adventurous and creative within the context of their own experience.
Fig. 1 – Corita Kent’s rules, as published in Kent and Steward, 2008
A third possibility arises: perhaps students wouldn’t want to make their own rules at all. Perhaps giving or being given rules - although demonstrating a heirarchy - takes the pressure of having to come up with your own. Corita Kent’s rules [Fig 1.] were playful dictats. Tongue firmly in cheek, they were given to the students, based on her beliefs. Perhaps Corita believed that students they were looking for guidance, and her rules provided an immediate touchpoint for that.
Conclusion
If playfulness is the more interesting, more valuable asset than play, as John Dewey asserts (Dewey 1910) then encouraging students to be playful is imperative. However, some methods of achieving this have appeared more successful than others. Starting each teaching session with some form of check-in exercise that ‘grounds’ and focusses the students’ attention in a friendly and positive way could possibly help set the tone for a lecture or seminar - and, consequently, increase student engagement.
However, co-creating playful rulesets for the ‘studio’ (that is, the studio environment of a particular year group/s) has been less successful. There is a strong likelihood that, put bluntly, this is something I’m more interested in than the students are. Perhaps it’s the language - ‘rules, feel inhibiting, restrictive. In fact, these very restrictions are potentially the things that can spark creativity. It’s hard to know, without further study, how students would respond to a variety of possible options when it comes to creating rules for working practices within a shared, communal HE arts space. I do believe that creating a set of personal rules - perhaps even a personal manifesto - would give students an opportunity to periodically reflect on the kind of artist they are, and the kind of artist they want to be. I also believe that general studio-wide rulesets are an excellent jumping off point for this. What remains to be seen is whether students could see the same value in the exercise - and if so, how I can support that.
[1] I say ‘soft skills’, but time and experience has taught me that in many ways, these are significantly more difficult to develop than technical skills.
References
Hyper Island Toolbox [Online]. Available: https://toolbox.hyperisland.com/ [Accessed 23-09-2023 2023].
BOGOST, I. 2017. Play Anything. Chicago Humanities Festival. Chicago Humanities Festival.
DEWEY, J. 1910. How we think, Boston,, D.C. Heath & Co.
KENT, C. & STEWARD, J. 2008. *Learning by heart, *New York, Bantam Books.
NØRGÅRD, R. T., TOFT-NIELSEN, C. & WHITTON, N. 2017. Playful learning in higher education: developing a signature pedagogy. International Journal of Play, 6**,** 272-282.
Figures
MEKELBURG, D. Corita Kent’s Rules & Hints for Students & Teachers. Learning by Heart: Allworth Press.