In the center of the classroom floor this morning was a huge oval of white paper, approximately the size of a table for six.  Upon closer look, I realized there had originally been two ovals of paper – one is now still in solid original form, and the other is sectioned into pieces.  

While I was not certain of the morning’s exercise, I expected each participant to be given one of the pieces as a base for an art element.  I was sort of correct in my assumption, but there would be much more.  Instead of jumping directly into art, however, the participants were guided through a sociometric group exercise on the patio just outside the classroom, led by the ArtReach drama therapists, Christa Kirby and Emily Nash.  


Photo Credit:  Studio Eva, Rhodes, GreeceNow that I’ve mentioned drama therapy, I want to stop and disclose my tendency to avoid group activities that include physical movement.  Not that I’m a couch potato – although I definitely am a keyboard potato – but because I feel clumsy and awkward and lost when asked to synchronize my movements with others.  I expected the drama therapy activities to feel (to me) like my usual personal tailspin.  That didn’t happen.  

Back to the exercise on the patio . . . where we participants were standing in a circle.  The group leader numbered us as a “1” or a “2” and asked for every “2” person to take one step forward, then move one step to the right; this caused us to be standing together, with the 2s standing before the 1s in the circle.  

Next, the group leader asked the 2s to turn around.   Woop!  Immediately I was standing face-to-face with person 2 – and, while that shouldn’t have been a surprise to me, it WAS because (honestly) I had been labeled with a 1 and the 1s hadn’t been asked to move at all – which  meant I was observing and not yet participating.  Suddenly, when faced with 2 looking me directly in the eyes, my personal space alarms started signaling wildly . . . until I blinked and looked directly into 2s eyes in return.  Her eyes were dark and kind.

In answer to the question posed by the group leader, she shared her favorite color (black) and I shared mine (green).  We laughed because we were both wearing shirts representing our colors.  Such a simple exercise, yet now as the experience sinks in, I connect it to our exercises from yesterday which illustrated the ways in which we participants are similar.  

Today’s exposure of our differences is meaningful in its simplicity – and I list some differences here because I want to honor them:  her eyes, skin, hair, nationality and, yes, her favorite color is different from mine.  Likely, our religion, profession, and world views are different, as well.  Yet, as we laughed together over the day’s clothing choices, I felt close to her.  

Again, on the surface, these are simple activities.  Beneath the surface, their impacts can be meaningful to the participants when employed in a process with therapeutic intentions.  More importantly, such activities can influence acceptance and appreciation of differences among children.  As Dr. Bernhard Kempler had explained yesterday, influencing healing is subtle and incremental work.    

Then she moved two steps to the right, and a new “2” with a new question stood before me, and so on until the final 2 with a statement:  she had been instructed to tell me one of my strengths.  I learned that she saw me as physically strong, an awareness that I decided to take with me to our next group activity, the art exercise that I had mentioned at the start of today’s journal entry – the pieces laying in the center of the floor. 

It's late in the day, however, as I write this . . . so I need to close, but you have my word that I will come back to the subject of the pieces on the floor and will link to those thoughts from this journal entry.  Peace, Lori

Addendum:  The link.