Writing is hard and vulnerable, no matter the stage. I still hold my breath whenever I receive feedback from an anonymous reviewer, fearing I will have to start the project all over again from scratch. And if I even now as a professor and published author continue to struggle with feedback, what makes me think an undergraduate student will be able to take a professor’s comments in stride? Not every student has the bravery or the bandwidth to ask for help, let alone come to office hours or visit a Writing Center. Your class time may be the sole location for introducing key writing skills, like how to construct a strong thesis statement, implement scholarly research as part of conversation, or backwards outlining. To teach those skills successfully, students also need to be open to workshopping and improving their work. If the student is discouraged in the earliest stages of the writing process, or comes to your course having had a negative experience with previous writing projects, they will lack the necessary tools to build resilience for academic success.
So before they begin any writing assignments, how can we teach our students to receive constructive feedback without feeling dejected?
My best trick? Improvisational play.
Why Improv is Great!
In Spring 2022, I joined an improv troupe at Hideout Improv Theatre in Austin, Texas. My instructor, Jessica Arjet, was a delightful human. Every Monday night, she enthusiastically applauded whether we succeeded or failed in a scene. In fact, she clapped harder if we failed. Failure in improv is inevitable. Improv is a process that mixes ingredients: skills you have honed (or are honing), varying suggestions from the audience, and occasionally new people with completely new ideas. Improvisers will not always agree, and sometimes you will feel dejected that your idea was not picked (or that it was steamrolled), but if you say “YES AND,” validating your scene partners to just go with the process, you will most likely have an enjoyable time.
Recently, I presented Finding the Fun in Failure for UT’s Graduate Teaching Showcase (2024) to discuss how theatre techniques can create a low-stakes environment for experimental learning. By teaching students to “fail” frequently in small peer-review groups, you can reduce stress in your classroom. Saying “YES AND” can go a long way in supporting students; it can help them feel less pressured while sharing their work and more willing to engage in feedback.
A great way to practice “YES AND” is to have a “Question of the Day,” where students can practice a “YES AND” response by talking with each other. My “Question of the Day” is always structured to relate to the lesson’s topic. In my 19th Century class, for example, I will ask students to stand in a circle and pop “ingredients” for a 19th-Century Grand Opera into my cauldron. Students validate their peers by confirming the previous “ingredient” and adding another one. Some memorable responses include “YES AND . . . we need a soprano who dies in the finale!” “YES AND . . . we need a large ensemble number with everyone getting drunk at a party!” These exercises encourage review and discussion. If students feel comfortable talking to each other, that energy will shift into the peer review exercises described earlier.
My favorite improv game for building resilience is “Transformation Circle.” If you have played “Telephone,” you may have an idea of how “Transformation Circle” works. Students stand in a circle and pass an everyday phrase with a physical gesture around the circle (typically three rounds) to witness the organic emotional changes in expression and gesture. In improv troupes, the phrase is typically dry or observational, like “Today is Tuesday” or “May I have some tea?” to leave more room for creative interpretation.
For my writing classes, I use two distinct phrases to articulate emotional responses to writing criticism: a sarcastically delivered “That’s great!” with crossed arms and a genuinely enthusiastic “That was amazing!” In the first round, students may slowly shrink into themselves because of the negative body language, whereas in the second round, students become louder and more encouraging of each other with open gestures. Naturally, when I ask the students which style of feedback they preferred, they all identify the comment from the second round.
“Transformation Circle” allows students to compare negative and positive feedback in a shared environment where no one is individually targeted. Moreover, “Transformation Circle” models a pedagogy of kindness students can pay forward to their peers when they give feedback. I continue the exercise by pulling up an introductory paragraph that is lacking a clear thesis statement and read two comments. My first comment is in a harsh manner followed by the same comment in a neutral tone with positive encouragement of where to improve. Students (and myself) cannot control what type of feedback we receive, but we can practice how to read feedback more positively and internalize the type of feedback we desire to model for others. By providing constructive criticism in classroom settings and writing workshops, students begin to understand how to embrace their writing, not as a personal attack, but a jumping off point for growth.
The beauty of improv games is that they give students a low-stakes scenario to learn lessons and opportunities to build resilience. Improv gently forces me to collaborate with new people, reconstruct my boundaries, and be open to failure. On stage, sometimes a scene just won’t work, and the audience didn’t laugh, but that is okay! Improv scenes are quick. They can be over in a blink of an eye, and then you will move on to the next scene. In the classroom, sometimes I bungle a key point. Or I forget to introduce an assignment. Or I have a brilliant lesson plan with planted puns and my students don’t respond—which hurts a bit more—but it is okay, too! Like improv scenes, lectures are over before you know it. If I fail at relaying something, I can clarify that item in the next lecture.
Improv has also encouraged me to be vulnerable in front of my students when it comes to the writing process. In fact, when my students are working on their peer reviews, I model accountability with my own projects. My students and I are a troupe. If their ethnography is due Friday, I will say “YES AND” here is my chapter section for my own project! This helps students feel less isolated in approaching their work, and they recognize their “scene partner” (peer reviewer) is relying on their assistance to become a constructive editor, a stronger writer, and a kinder individual.
So go on! Dazzle your students with theatrical positivity to write that incredible research paper! SAY YES to scaffolded progress!! AND don’t be afraid to fail! Resilience cannot be built without acknowledgement—applause never hurts.
For one more of Hannah’s resources on this site, visit “Today is Tuesday.”
