Those Who Can’t…

I looked it up: George Bernard Shaw is the person who said, “those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.”  (And Woody Allen added, “and those who can’t teach, teach gym”) (funny).   Woody Allen may not be the best person to quote today, however.  Due to jet lag and chronic, low-level despair I was up at 3:30 a.m. watching the Kavanaugh hearings.  We men have a long, long, long way to go before we appreciate the dangerous power we wield, and we have an even longer way to go before we stop damaging those who call us to account.

And Woody Allen’s wrong about gym teachers, as well as boundary violations: I learned a lot about decency from Coach Valverde and Coach Hunt at Gage Junior High.  They did not tolerate bullying, which was remarkable in 1971.  Same with Coach Almquist at Riverside Polytechnic High School.  I was lucky.

These power dynamics are thick at the moment and it feels callow to ignore them.  They undergird everything.

But back to the quote.  I start teaching in earnest tomorrow.  I’ll be teaching the “Improvisation and Mental Health” workshops at three different places and, as always happens before I start a new class, I feel like my head is empty.  I have a syllabus. We’re going to focus on the ways improvisation defies the future-oriented dread that fuels anxiety.  We’re going to practice stepping into controlled chaos and, using curiosity and non-judgment, experience the (positive) power at our disposal when we focus on the task in front of us and not on our limiting thoughts (see the first paragraph or two of this entry). We’re going to explore how an ensemble approach to living–how listening intently to each other–is crucial to creating an atmosphere of respect and, sometimes, fun.

But how can an anxious person with partisan insomnia ask students to do the thing he can’t?  I dunno.  We’ll find out tomorrow.  Experts are the worst teachers, apparently.

Did I mention I’m in Pakistan?  In this moment?  It’s wonderful to be back.  Be here, now (I initially typed “be her now,” which would create some badly needed empathy).  Here’s some stuff from my first 48 hours, and a HUGE thank you to USEFP (United Stated Educational Foundation in Pakistan) for hosting me:

The enormous crows start to go nuts around 5:00 in the morning and, since I’ve been awake already, I’ve been walking out on the terrace and watching the sun rise.

I met with some professors from the psychology department at NUST (National University of Sciences and Technology) to schedule some workshops.  I love visiting schools. They always feel hopeful to me, even with the regimentation and the air of impatience (“will I ever finish?”). The psychology staff was gracious and welcoming (“come back!” “Shouldn’t you see how this goes before extending another invitation?”).  Every meeting here involves coffee or tea (sometimes both) and cookies and more tea.  I can’t sleep.  Hmmm.

The security around the campus is imposing.  As with the Fulbright House, there are armed guards at the entrance, and the entrance itself is nearly a mile from the campus.  Maybe that’s why this building in the next photo gave me pause:

Again, hopeful. Or cynical.  I suppose it’s a choice. Cynicism seems like an easy default position.

Here I am with one of the guards at the Fulbright House.  I did get to leave the area and go to Taxila with Sikandar from USEFP and Imran and Zainab from Theatre Wallay.  Really exciting to get out of Islamabad and see more of this country and spend time with these wonderful hosts. We wandered through a British-era museum and saw excavated art from the area. Evidence that the Greeks, the Persians, the Chinese, and the Indians had all made a home in Taxila. Some photos below:

And:

Tomorrow I begin classes at Theatre Wallay. I’m teaching them how to teach improv.  I hope I’ll disprove Shaw’s quote.

There’s a new cook at the Fulbright House, too.  He’s really good. Last night I had broccoli soup and Pakistani spaghetti.  Delicious, but there were left-overs: