DreamScope Theatre

© 2025 Puja Goyal

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The bell rings. You straighten your kurta, pick up your books and. purse, and step into the classroom. Forty pairs of eyes flicker toward you—some bored, some curious, some hidden behind an elbow or a too-large geometry box.. and one teasing and troubling another kid. You smile, just a flicker, take a deep breath, remove your secret weapon, a frog puppet or a mask and begin.

The stage is set.

Because let’s face it: teaching is performance art.

We don’t say it often, perhaps because “performance” sounds insincere, or performative in the worst way. But anyone who has stood before a room full of twitchy eleven-year-olds or skeptical teenagers knows—there’s nothing fake about the theatre of teaching. It’s real, raw, and happens in real time. No script survives the second line. You improvise, you adapt, you read the room like a seasoned actor watching for cues.

And when it works—when the lesson lands like a punchline or a poem—it’s electric.

Performance in the classroom isn’t about theatrics. It’s about presence.

It’s how you modulate your voice to whisper a crucial point. How you use the silence between sentences like a comma in a song. It’s in the walk across the room that signals movement in thought. In the unexpected pause that tells a student, “This part matters.”

It’s how you let the lesson breathe.

Too often, we teach like we’re surviving. But the classroom—when approached as a stage—is where knowledge is not just delivered, but embodied. And embodiment is what makes it stick.

Think of that one teacher you remember vividly. The one whose stories wrapped around the dates of history, whose eyes lit up when an equation worked. The one who used chalk like a paintbrush and jokes like breath. You remember them not because of their syllabus, but because they taught with a pulse.

Here’s the secret: they were performing. But it was the most honest kind.

So how do you own that stage?

• Begin with rhythm: every class has a beat. Feel it. Don’t rush through the material—conduct it.
• Use space like meaning: movement isn’t filler. Walk with intent. Change your position to anchor a shift in idea.
• Let your voice be an instrument: not loud, but textured. Soft when needed. Crisp when curious. Firm when inviting challenge.
• And above all, be present: no actor survives without responding to the audience. Listen. Adjust. React.

Teaching isn’t about being someone else—it’s about amplifying the most awake version of you.

And no, you don’t need to be extroverted. You don’t need to be dramatic. But you do need to show up with your full self. Because that’s what students remember. Not the definition you dictated, but the way your face lit up when explaining it.

So the next time you walk into class, remember: the board is your backdrop. The chalk is your prop. The moment is your cue.

The bell has rung.

Take the stage.

Coming Soon: The Storytelling Classroom—a professional development workshop by DreamScope Theatre, designed for educators, facilitators, and communicators seeking to elevate their teaching through the art of storytelling.

Because the future of education begins with how we speak, listen, and connect.