The Arts in Psychotherapy 32 (2005) 275–292

The education of the drama therapist:

In search of a guide
Robert J. Landy Ph.D., RDT/BCT ∗ , Lucy McLellan MA 1 ,
Sara McMullian MA, RDT/BCT 1
Department of Drama Therapy, New York University, 35 West 4 Street, Room 675, New York 10012, NY, USA

Introduction

As drama therapy continues to develop as a field, there have been few articles published
regarding the pedagogy of this discrete modality (see, for example, Emunah, 1989; Landy,
1982). Most of the literature in the field addresses concepts and theories as well as practices
to be applied by drama therapists in clinical treatment (Emunah, 1994; Jones, 1996; Landy,
1996a; Pitruzzella, 2004). This paper focuses upon the education of the drama therapy
student. The authors explore the academic and clinical experience of students engaged in
training within an academic setting, New York University (NYU), one of three accredited
Drama Therapy Programs in North America.
Many assume that the training and education of drama therapists involve a highly ex-
periential process, and for the most part, this is true. However, it is also true that the
educational process involves a confluence of experience and reflection, of practice and
theory. This process often parallels that of therapy in its attention to individual develop-
ment and group process, viewed within a theoretical framework that provides meaning and
containment.
To explore the process of education, the authors focus upon one graduate level course
that they jointly taught, Drama Therapy for the Emotionally Disturbed, required during
the second semester of study of all first year MA students at NYU. This paper tracks the

∗ Corresponding author. Robert J. Landy is Professor of Educational Theatre and Applied Psychology at New

York University. Tel.: +1 2129985258; fax: +1 2129954560.

E-mail addresses: robert.landy@nyu.edu, rjl1@nyu.edu (R.J. Landy).
1 Lucy McLellan and Sara McMullian are drama therapists.

0197-4556/$ – see front matter © 2005 Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
doi:10.1016/j.aip.2005.02.005
276 R.J. Landy et al. / The Arts in Psychotherapy 32 (2005) 275–292

complex journey of the therapists in training and the process of clinical engagement that
occurred in their transition from first year students to second year interns.

The course: Drama Therapy for the Emotionally Disturbed

The NYU Drama Therapy Program provides students an educational experience steeped
in theory and clinical practice. Drama Therapy for the Emotionally Disturbed is designed to
explore a range of psychiatric conditions from a variety of theatrical and psychological per-
spectives, preparing students for the imminent 780 hours of required internship with clinical
populations. The term emotional disturbance, though somewhat dated, refers generically
to a variety of Axis I and Axis II disorders, including but not limited to substance-related
disorders, psychotic disorders, mood and personality disorders.
The course met once a week for 3 hours over a span of 15 weeks. Two instructors, Robert
Landy and Sara McMullian, and one student research assistant, Lucy McLellan, worked
with the group of 16 students throughout. The course was designed to introduce students to
a number of theoretical and clinical topics, such as assessment models, categories of mental
illness and wellness, clinical treatment environments, issues of transference and counter-
transference and treatment strategies. Each topic is viewed from both a medical, psychiatric
perspective, based in the categories of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental
Disorders, 4th Edition Revised (DSM IV-R; American Psychiatric Association, 2000), and
a dramatic point of view, based in the Taxonomy of Roles (Landy, 1993). In addition to
lecture, class discussion and experiential learning, the students engage in a four-week field-
work project at a Continuing Day Treatment (CDT) program in the New York metropolitan
area. For 1 hour of each of the four weeks, the students work directly with clients with a
history of chronic mental illness. In general, this is the students’ first experience with an
emotionally disturbed population and proves a vital part of their educational experience.
The course has evolved over a period of 20 years to meet the needs of students as
well as reflect the changing face of mental healthcare and the burgeoning field of drama
therapy itself. At the dawn of the 21st century, long-term inpatient care has become almost
obsolete, replaced by short-term hospitalization and outpatient treatment (Langley, 1996).
Landy (1996b) notes the increasing trend for brief therapy, offering ego support and restoring
balance to the client’s system of roles. In both classroom and clinic, teachers and students
work through a model of strength-based competencies aimed at identifying and developing
the clients’ strengths as expressed in their role-playing and storytelling (see Rapp, 1998;
Tyson & Baffour, 2004).
In balancing the several tiers of theory and practice, simulation and reality, prototype and
individual case, teacher and student and client, the instructors of the course aimed toward a
synthesis, providing an understanding of drama therapy process as a search for balance be-
tween contradictory roles and tendencies. From the point of view of the instructors, balance
and equilibrium are facilitated, both in the classroom and the clinic, by means of a stable
and consistent guide who provides student and client with a secure holding environment.
The guide has become a central concept in Landy’s (2001a) developing theoretical model of
drama therapy. In an external sense, the guide is a transitional role taken on by the therapist.
The effective therapist stands in for previously ineffective parental figures in order to safely
 R.J. Landy et al. / The Arts in Psychotherapy 32 (2005) 275–292 277

facilitate clients’ therapeutic journeys. When the process is effective, the guide figure is in-
ternalized and serves an intrapsychic function, facilitating the integration of contradictory
thoughts and feelings, and moving the client toward balance and integration.
For the students at NYU, guidance through the rocky waters of diagnosis, transference
and appropriate clinical interventions was provided by Robert, Sara and Lucy, who, re-
spectively, took on the guiding roles of academic, clinician and transitional figure between
student and professional. Gradually, the students were able to internalize their own guide
figures and lead the CDT clients through their brief therapeutic journey. In turn, the clients
were also able to take on guide roles, initiating the students in the rituals of their envi-
ronment, revealing their disabilities and abilities through their roles and stories, teaching
the students in vivo how to be therapists. Thus, the role of the guide proved central to this
educational process as teachers, students and clients discovered ways to guide one another
even as they learned to guide themselves.

The search for clarity

Throughout the educational process that took place over a semester, there was a constant
call for clarity and structure on the part of the students. Their questions came in abundance:
“Why this intervention?” or “What does this diagnosis really mean?” or “How can I make
sense of my experience with this client?” It appeared that there was an underlying fear of
trusting the classroom process, one that paralleled the equally unknown terrain of therapy.
This issue arises in the training of all most all clinical professionals but is, in some ways,
particularly poignant in the training of creative arts therapists who often feel illegitimate by
virtue of having chosen an unconventional profession (see Johnson, 1994; McNiff, 1998).
The call for clarification reflected a general need for guidance, for a figure to steer the
class safely through the overwhelming experience of their first therapeutic encounter. Just
as the clients at CDT would require a sense of containment and consistency from their
therapists in the fieldwork project ahead, so the students were demanding a lifeline from
their academic and clinical advisors. This lifeline at times became a tug of war when the
instructors insisted that the students tolerate uncertainty and ambiguity as part of their
training.

Whose story is it anyway?

The story told here has many strands as it was woven by teachers, students and clients.
Throughout the 15-week process, all 16 students were asked to keep a written log, reflecting
on their classroom and clinical experiences. In addition to the student perspective, the three
instructors also recorded their reflections. A large part of the clinical work involved the
creation of stories by the clients. As they shared their stories, the students would transcribe
them word for word. Later, when the stories were enacted, the students photographed the
enactments, capturing another part of the collaborative process. In the end, the students and
instructors assembled a scrapbook of stories and photographs which they presented to the
clients as a means of holding and reflecting upon their stories. This, then, is the story of all
278 R.J. Landy et al. / The Arts in Psychotherapy 32 (2005) 275–292

involved on parallel planes in the complex process of education and therapy through the
lens of role exploration and storymaking.
To maintain a sense of focus, we will refer often to the specific experience of one
student, whom we will call Matt, a pseudonym. We will track his journey from classroom
to clinic and back to classroom again, following his unique pattern of growth. Matt joined
the NYU Drama Therapy Program with an undergraduate degree in theatre and a history
of employment in the field of mental health, offering him valuable experience as well as a
host of preconceptions regarding diagnosis and treatment that would be challenged by this
experience. Eager and industrious, Matt’s journey was one of relinquishing his control over
the whole therapeutic process and allowing himself to be guided by all the players. Matt’s
story, in many ways, was reflective of others in the class group.

In the classroom: early process

Drama Therapy for the Emotionally Disturbed begins in the fictional domain. Each
student is assigned a character from a dramatic text. The roles are carefully chosen by the
instructors to cover a broad spectrum of mental illness. Students are not type-cast by the
instructors, but given roles the instructors feel would challenge them emotionally, physically
and/or intellectually. For a full list of characters, see Table 1.
Each student in the role of an emotionally disturbed character was paired with a stu-
dent therapist, with whom he or she would engage as client throughout the semester. The
initial encounter between client and therapist opens with a monologue, selected by each
student/client from the original play. The instructors intended the presentation of the mono-
logues to reflect the opening stages of therapy in which actual clients share their stories
with the therapist.

Table 1
Theatrical characters assigned to students
Student Role Play Author (date)
1. Ophelia Hamlet Shakespeare (1985)
2. Miss Julie Miss Julie Strindberg (1998)
3. Zooman Zooman and the Sign Fuller (1982)
4. Dr. Dysart Equus Shaffer (1975)
5. Kevin Alan Strang Equus Shaffer (1975)
6. Jessie Night, Mother Norman (1983)
7. Maggie After the Fall Miller (1964)
8. Ms. Margarida Ms. Margarida’s Way Athayade (1979)
9. Bananas The House of Blue Leaves Guare (1972)
10. Millie The Dazzle Greenberg (2003)
11. Vivian Wit Edson (1999)
12. Nurse Ratched One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest Wasserman (1999)
13. Agnes Agnes of God Pielmeier (1982)
14. Martha Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf Albee (1983)
15. Prior Walter Angels in America Kushner (1993)
16. Harper Angels in America Kushner (1993)
 R.J. Landy et al. / The Arts in Psychotherapy 32 (2005) 275–292 279

For Hillman (1983), the story told in therapy represents a healing fiction. As clients
step into treatment a new chapter of their story begins, one that allows for a re-imagining
of maladaptive plots and roles. Given the metaphor of story as healing fiction, the class
instructors encouraged the students to become active listeners, engaging with and slowly
entering into the narrative of therapy.
Sara introduced the concept of active listening as central to the therapeutic process. To
clarify the concept, Sara assigned listeners to each client and asked them to respond to the
monologues in movement and/or words, mirroring the subtext and identifying strengths as
well as disturbances, much like the therapist in the initial stages of treatment. She referred
to the listeners as reactors.
Throughout the listening exercise, the students feared making mistakes, a focus on self
that hindered the very process of active listening and made it difficult to react to the client’s
story. In processing the session with the group, Matt conjectured, “How can I begin to work
with other people’s stories when I’m still working on my own?” In reality, the therapist’s
story does not end with the introduction of each new client nor is it required to be perfect to
ensure effective therapy. Matt’s comment exposed an anxiety regarding his ability to hold
and guide the client’s story both in the classroom and the clinic, an essential theme in his
therapeutic tale.
Matt was paired with a student, whom we will call Kevin. Kevin would play Alan Strang,
a fictional client in the play, Equus, who consults with a psychiatrist because he has violently
acted out by blinding horses. Matt was to play Alan’s therapist.
At first, Matt seemed confused by the concept of the reactor, eager to clarify its function
before responding to the essence of Alan’s monologue. Matt expressed confusion over what
part of the listening process was a teaching tool used to train the student and what part, if any,
was actually used in the drama therapy process. He wondered if the drama therapist usually
responds in such abstract terms. Matt’s call for clarification introduced a vital question
often raised within the educational process: What is the distinction between education and
therapy when engaging in experiential learning?
From a pedagogical standpoint, the role of the reactor proved vital in teaching the students
to listen with something other than a cognitive ear, highlighting the importance of instinctual
and somatic responses in the actual process of drama therapy. An understanding of the
reactor would prove central to the therapeutic alliance that Matt was able to establish with
his client in CDT as well as his fictional client, Alan Strang.
As reactor, Matt sat and listened to the intense, sexually charged monologue of Alan
Strang. The following are Matt’s reflections on this process:

Before my fictional client began his monologue I read the play and had an idea of
what he was going to present. In many ways it was like reading a client’s medical
record and psychosocial before beginning treatment. As a student it was important
for me to understand and clarify my role in this experience in order to effectively
apply what I was learning. However, the experiential process was asking me to let go
of any preconceived notions and just be in the moment as an active listener. Alan’s
monologue was intense and pulled me into his emotionally charged world. It was
actually a relief to get out of my head and into my heart. I began to feel how Alan’s
thoughts and emotions shifted instead of assessing why or what caused his suffering.
280 R.J. Landy et al. / The Arts in Psychotherapy 32 (2005) 275–292

Being empathically attuned as the reactor allowed me to mirror instead of interpret a

response to Alan. At first I was worried that he would be offended or think that I was
making fun of him but soon realized it was comforting for him to be seen and heard
on an emotional level.

As the monologues continued, the class began to process the task of active listening,
echoing Matt’s fears of not knowing what to say or do in response to the client’s story.
Maybe it was enough to sit with the silence rather than filling the void with soothing
words or quick-fix solutions. Sara offered the thought that the therapeutic alliance can be
strengthened when therapist and client are able to tolerate the silence between them.
In reaction to each response, the theatrical client was invited to correct the reactor in
any way that felt necessary, establishing a collaborative process and preparing the students
to listen and react to real-life stories of emotional disturbance when the fieldwork project
commenced.
Throughout this initial encounter, Sara remained in close proximity to the fictional clients
and therapists, standing by their side as they witnessed and corrected the listening responses,
non-verbally encouraging and supporting their efforts. As such, Sara modeled the role of
therapist as guide.

In search of a clinical language

In preparation for the real-life therapeutic encounter, the classroom was also used to
introduce the students to diagnostic categories and clinical terminology. The students were
required to familiarize themselves with the five axes of the DSM IV-R (American Psychiatric
Association, 2000), and to consider the process of classification that occurs in diagnosis
and treatment planning. As drama therapy students, all were also invited to broaden their
diagnostic viewpoint, searching for links between the psychiatric categories of the DSM
IV-R and those rooted in drama therapy. The comparative model chosen in drama therapy
was that of the Taxonomy of Roles (Landy, 1993) and its related assessment instrument,
Role Profiles (Landy, 2001a).
Landy’s (1993) Taxonomy of Roles is comprised of 84 role types plus related subtypes
derived from Western dramatic texts ranging in history from ancient Greek to contemporary
American theatre. The Taxonomy represents a comprehensive catalogue of theatrical
archetypes that, according to Landy (1993), is concordant with psychological typologies
(see, for example, Jung, 1971). Some 10 years after developing the Taxonomy, Landy
(2001b) and Landy, Luck, Connor, and McMullian (2003) extended the Taxonomy into
a card sort assessment instrument called Role Profiles. In profiling the roles of clients,
he began to question whether the Taxonomy of Roles might stand as a compliment
to the DSM IV-R. Rather than a medically based system of symptoms, the Taxonomy
represents a more metaphorical and holistic approach to categorizing disorder. The
assessor consults each of the six interconnected domains (Somatic, Cognitive, Affective,
Social, Spiritual and Aesthetic), constructing a broad picture of personality based in
role (Landy, 1993). Ultimately, this theatrical method of assessment points to an active
approach to treatment. Similar to post-modern approaches such as narrative therapy
 R.J. Landy et al. / The Arts in Psychotherapy 32 (2005) 275–292 281

(Freedman & Combs, 1996) and strength-based work, the domains of the Taxonomy
aid the clinician in determining where the client may be stuck. Rather than focus on
pathology, the drama therapist seeks to use the identified roles as a beginning place. The
very act of naming and identifying roles acknowledges and validates the whole person
in the present moment. The clients are encouraged to explore and play with contrasting
personas, re-visioning and re-balancing their role system in the therapeutic journey towards
health.
Still within the theoretical domain of the classroom, Robert asked the group to be-
gin thinking about how the Taxonomy of Roles interfaces with the DSM IV-R, suggest-
ing that the domains may reflect the axes in the following way: Axis I—Affective; Axis
II—Cognitive; Axis III—Somatic; Axis IV—Social; Axis V—Spiritual.
One domain was missing—the Aesthetic, containing the roles of artist, performer and
dreamer. From a creative arts therapy perspective, it would seem that these roles play a
central part in maintaining balance and health in the life of all individuals, emotionally
disturbed or not. The aesthetic roles, essentially concerning the act of creation, speak to a
concept of wellness rather than illness, and in some ways permeate all axes and domains
by virtue of their presence or absence.
Some of the students questioned the validity of such a comparison if the domains of
the Taxonomy had to be squeezed into the confines of the DSM IV-R. In reality, Robert
sought to open up the medical model of classification in order to provide a richer, more
holistic view of the individual. For drama therapists, the Taxonomy provides an opportunity
to assess clients according to a diverse range of roles that are either present or absent in the
individual’s daily life. In conjunction with the medical picture offered by the DSM IV-R,
reasoned Robert, a fuller image of human beings emerges.
In reflecting upon his classroom experience, Matt challenged the introduction of both
DSM IV-R and Taxonomy of Roles at the same time, suggesting that it may be more useful
for the students to be taught the diagnostic process of the DSM IV-R before consider-
ing drama therapy models of assessment. For Matt, the former would provide language
and power within a clinical field dominated by psychiatry, allowing him to communicate
with other health care professionals. Others, however, remarked that as drama therapy con-
tinues to grow as a discrete modality, there is increasing interest in developing a unique
language and models of assessment that reflect the dramatic nature of the therapy. Robert
noted that several assessment instruments based in role and story had been developed by
drama therapists (see, for example, Johnson, 1988; Lahad, 1992), but in working with
the Taxonomy students were given a precise view of the qualities and functions of role,
the concept and method that distinguishes drama therapy from other psychotherapeutic
approaches.
The class was asked to complete a written assignment, assessing their fictional client
from the perspective of the DSM IV-R as well as the Taxonomy of Roles, exploring how
these parallel modes of assessment could compliment each other in the process of diagnosis
and treatment planning. Matt wrote up the character Alan Strang. His response, given in
Table 2, was clearly articulated, demonstrating the complimentary nature of both diagnostic
instruments. He also wrote a narrative providing a rationale for his medical and drama
therapeutic assessment. As an example, for the Axis I diagnosis of brief psychotic disorder,
without marked stressor(s), Matt wrote:
 282
Table 2
Matt’s comparison of assessments from the DSM-IV-R and the Taxonomy of Roles

R.J. Landy et al. / The Arts in Psychotherapy 32 (2005) 275–292

DSM IV-R Psychiatric diagnosis Taxonomy of Roles Role assessment
Axis I: Clinical disorders 298.8. Brief psychotic disorder, without Affective domain
marked stressor
Classification: moral 24.2 Idealist
Classification: feeling states 39.0 Ecstatic One
Axis II: Personality disorders 799.9. Schizotypal personality disorder Cognitive domain 18.1 Ambivalent One
NOS
Axis III: General medical conditions None Somatic domain
Classification: age 2.0 Adolescent
Classification: health 12.0 Mentally ill/mad
Axis IV: Psychosocial and environmental problems V61.20. Parent–child relational prob- Social domain
lem
Classification: legal 60.0 Defendant
V62.89. Religious or spiritual problem Spiritual domain
Classification: supernatural beings 79.2 Dionysian God
Axis V: Global assessment of functioning scale 41. Serious symptoms or any serious Aesthetic domain 84.0 Dreamer
impairment in social, occupational or
school functioning
 R.J. Landy et al. / The Arts in Psychotherapy 32 (2005) 275–292 283

Alan Strang is a 17-year-old male who has been admitted to the treatment center for
blinding six horses at the stables where he worked. He had a delusional episode that
lasted less than a month with eventual return to pre-morbid level of functioning. The
disturbance was not due to a general medical condition or substance abuse. I chose
Without Marked Stressor(s) because his psychotic symptoms are not in response to
events that would be markedly stressful to almost anyone in similar circumstances.
Matt wrote a description for the Affective Domain of the Taxonomy, supplementing and
complimenting the former. The quotes are from Landy’s (1993) Taxonomy of Roles:
Alan has the quality of Idealist: “a romantic type, fiercely committed to a principle
or ideology” and functions to “remain true to a given ideal or ideology that provides
meaning to [his] life.” His brief psychotic episode is a direct reflection of his rela-
tionship and connection to these animals and his inability to adhere to societal norms.
Alan as Ecstatic One: “appears to be living within an altered state of consciousness”
and he “expresses the irrational, transcendent part of the human psyche and seeks out
moments of orgiastic experience.”
Table 2 follows, providing Matt’s assessment of Alan from the point of view of both the
DSM IV-R and the Taxonomy of Roles.
Having worked with the full Taxonomy as an assessment instrument, the students were
asked to select a limited number of roles from the Taxonomy that they felt would best
characterize their fictional clients. Four sub-groups worked at this task simultaneously, and
when the full group reconvened, 21 roles common to all sub-groups were chosen. These roles
would be given to the clinical group in the form of a card sort assessment, a modification
of the original Role Profiles assessment of 70 roles developed by Landy (2001b). It took
a leap to assume that the list pertaining to the fictional clients would also prove relevant
to the actual clients. The veracity of this assumption would later be tested in an anecdotal
fashion. The roles chosen were as follows: Lost One, Child, Witness, Sick Person, Angry
Person, Survivor, Victim, Beauty, Beast, Lover, Dreamer, Outcast, Adult, Person of Faith,
Sinner, Hero, Villain, Critic, Wise Person, Simpleton, Healer.
The selection process and the final stages of preparation felt rushed to many of the
students. The desire for coherence and clarity, if not for recipes for success, was a continuing
cry in the sobering face of meeting real-life clients for the first time. In his class log, Matt
expressed his own concerns regarding the fieldwork process, eager to know what a drama
therapy session would actually look like and if a demonstration session was sufficient to
fully prepare the students for a real-life encounter. Matt and his classmates would simply
have to trust the process and the guides that had led them this far along the way.

In the clinic

The students would attend CDT to work with the clients for 1 hour per week over four
weeks. Prior to the initial session and following termination, the clients met with research
assistant, Lucy, in order to frame the therapeutic experience and reflect upon it. The fieldwork
at CDT had three interconnected objectives:
284 R.J. Landy et al. / The Arts in Psychotherapy 32 (2005) 275–292

1. to apply the limited version of Role Profiles as a means of assessment;

2. to translate the roles chosen into characters in a story and to engage in a process of
treatment through the stories;
3. after telling and enacting the stories, to relate the fictional roles and themes to the
everyday lives of the clients in such a way that they might view their life experience
from a fresh perspective.

Alongside these set goals, the students were engaged in their own therapeutic and ed-
ucational process, exploring the clinical world of mental health, mostly for the first time.
Could they apply the active listening of the classroom to the real world of therapy? Could
they engage in their new role of therapist and then reflect upon their experiences in role in
order to view themselves from a fresh perspective?
Departing their safe classrooms, the students entered into a real-life narrative of emotional
disturbance, one framed by loss, abandonment and abuse, by issues of race and disenfran-
chisement. The first image most students witnessed was a haze of thick cigarette smoke
almost blocking the front entrance. They saw isolated individuals rather than groups, mostly
people of color, many poorly dressed and groomed. As they entered into this environment,
the students brought with them their own baggage of life experience and expectations.
Over the four-week process, Matt worked with Bert, a long-standing member of the CDT
community, with a history of chronic mental illness and substance abuse. Bert had been
institutionalized in the past but, at the time of the fieldwork project, was able to manage
his diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder through medication and the structured program
of daily therapeutic activities offered at CDT. Beyond his Axis I diagnosis, Bert was also
diagnosed with mild mental retardation (MMR), adding learning difficulties to his mood
and thought disorder.
On arrival, the group sat in a large circle, 8 clients dotted among the larger body of 16
students. This was a time to make initial connections before commencing the Role Profiles
assessment. When Bert arrived, he appeared closed off. He was inactive and sat with his
head down, avoiding eye contact with the group in general. As Matt attempted to engage
with him, however, Bert was able to respond, sharing his interpretation of a painting that
hung on the wall in front of them. He made sense of the seemingly random chips of this
colorful mosaic, telling the tale of a melting snowman that he saw in the artwork. Bert was
beginning to introduce Matt to his world.

Exploring roles

The CDT group was structured by warm-up ritual, action phase around embodying roles
and working with stories, and closing ritual and reflection. Lucy began the first session with
a brief warm up, seeking to identify and develop connections between clients and students.
The main body of this session was comprised of the abbreviated Role Profiles assessment.
The students formed dyads and each dyad worked with one client. The clients were given
a deck of 21 cards, each with the name of one role. They were asked to place each role into
one of four categories, each marked with a title card: I am this, I am not this, I am not sure
if I am this, and I want to be this. Then they were asked to choose three roles that seemed
 R.J. Landy et al. / The Arts in Psychotherapy 32 (2005) 275–292 285

most important at the present moment. Following this selection process, the clients were
asked to sculpt the student dyads into a physical form representing their three roles. And
finally, the group discussed the process of choosing and sculpting the roles, and Lucy led a
brief physical closing ritual.
Following the session, the instructors and students returned to the classroom to reflect
upon their work and to consider the information they had garnered from the clients. To frame
the discussion, Robert raised the following questions: What kinds of roles were chosen?
Are they all the same? Are some more or less powerful? Is there tension or contradiction
between the roles? Is there an identifiable guide among the roles presented? By inviting each
client to select three roles from the profile, Robert offered the possibility that a guide figure
might emerge, one that serves an integrative function between one role and its counterpart.
In considering Bert’s choices, Matt noted that the three chosen roles came from different
categories: Adult from I am this; Angry Person from I am not this; Survivor from I want to be
this. Matt speculated that his client might actually already be a Survivor after enduring years
of chronic mental illness, relapsing in and out of substance abuse as well as coping with the
challenges of mild mental retardation. Maybe the role that Bert actually wanted to take on
was Adult, a difficult role to access after years of being marginalized and infantilized.
Matt questioned whether Bert chose the Adult role because he wanted to be affirmed by
his adult therapist. Excited by his reflection, Matt acknowledged the impact of his presence
in the therapeutic alliance.
Processing their impressions of this first session, however, the students generally ex-
pressed a sense of discomfort and insecurity in this foreign setting and a fear that they
might be mistaken for the CDT clients. The class group discussed issues of boundaries and
self-disclosure, fearing that they might say too much or give too much of themselves, indi-
cating a sense of being engulfed or overwhelmed by the clients and their stories. Throughout
the processing, the instructors pointed out the parallel process of client and student/therapist
as both grappled with similar concerns.

Charting the course

Before the group began on week two, the students were invited to read the client’s charts,
adding to the psychosocial information already attained through Role Profiles assessment of
the previous week. By combining conventional clinical history with that obtained through
Role Profiles, the students began to develop a rich view of the clients.
In the classroom processing following the second session, the students were asked if
they had noted any shift in attitude toward their clients as a result of consulting the charts.
Some expressed a sense of heightened anxiety and sensitivity, worrying what their com-
ments or reactions might trigger. For Matt, the clinical chart provided a window into his
client’s behavior, which complimented his view of Bert from the previous session. Bert’s
psychosocial information revealed a close but complicated relationship with his family and
his father, in particular. Matt was struck once again by Bert’s desire to feel connected to the
role of Adult. In group, while sculpting the roles, Bert brought his family to life. Creating
the role of Angry Person, Bert set up the image of a child being rebuked by his father,
whereas Adult was a picture of a proud father with his arm around his child. It seemed
286 R.J. Landy et al. / The Arts in Psychotherapy 32 (2005) 275–292

likely that both sculpts reflected Bert’s experience of family, both real and ideal, as well as
his desire for acceptance and support from his guide and transferential father figure, Matt.

Finding strength

The therapeutic process at CDT was based on identifying and exploring each client’s
strength-based roles. In the third week of meeting, the students invited the clients to return
to the roles they had previously chosen and sculpted, and to create a story from this trinity.
There was some anxiety on the part of the students regarding how to transform these static
images into drama. For Robert, the goal was to try to discover the story through the voice
of a role as articulated by the client in the present moment. Beginning the story work, the
students were advised to ask the client: “What is the most important role now, and what
does that role want most of all?”
By focusing on strength-based roles in the present rather than on negative roles from the
past, the student/therapists sought to empower and support the clients’ egos. The clients
sustained this notion by repeatedly identifying the Hero and Survivor as strong roles. Sara
reminded the group that this was brief treatment where work with strength-based roles was
clearly indicated to provide clients a vision of wellness and hope.
In this third week of work at CDT, the guiding function of the role of Survivor became
particularly clear. Matt and his partner were working with Bert in the creation of tableaus,
representing the three roles, as a step in the development of the story. Bert was attempting
to embody the role of the Angry Person, but appeared to be lost in his own story, a common
theme in his life. He stood in the middle of the room, hunched over, unable to relate to
those around him. Increasingly unable to distinguish and separate the real world from the
story world, Bert seemed to be shifting back into his place of confusion and chaos. Sara
intervened, offering Bert the opportunity to step out of the story, and asked Lucy to take
on the role of the Angry Person. Bert welcomed this. When he moved into the position of
observer, he stood erect and fully engaged as he watched and listened to his story, smiling,
and at one point, laughing. Matt joined Lucy and embodied the role of Adult. And finally,
Matt and his partner enacted the last tableau, portraying Bert’s role of Survivor.
Bert stated he wanted to be in this part of the story, and placed himself in the center,
between the two students, his arms in a pose that suggested victory. As Survivor he was
fully present, smiling. By stepping out of the story and viewing it from a safe distance and
then finding a way back in, Bert had discovered a way not only to survive this complicated
business of role-taking, but also to do so with strength, standing between the two competent,
knowledgeable student/therapists.
Reflecting upon the third session, a number of students challenged the terminology, per-
ceiving strength-based to be a value judgment controlled by the therapist. Isn’t it possible
that a strength-based role could be Angry Person or Lost One, for instance? Should the
therapist only equate strength with positive qualities? Sara explained that strength-based
roles reflect moments when the client has been resourceful and competent and feels val-
idated. Furthermore, roles such as the Angry Person could very well be strength-based if
viewed within the context of the client’s story and if enacted in such a way as to meet
the criteria of resourcefulness, competence and validation. In doing so, the therapist is
 R.J. Landy et al. / The Arts in Psychotherapy 32 (2005) 275–292 287

not making a value judgment, but rather relying on the actual story for guidance. The
therapist facilitates the identification of roles that represent strength with the hope that
in collaboration with the client they can move away from the world of problem satu-
rated stories and create new stories that speak to the possibilities of the present and the
future.
In the final session at CDT, the clients told their stories one by one, reading out the text to
the group while the students performed their stories in images and words. Just as she stood
close to the students as they engaged in active listening in the classroom, Sara offered ego
support to the CDT clients as they shared their stories. In addition to this close proximity,
Sara attended to each client with supportive questions, guiding the clients toward making
necessary changes. Gradually, the role of guide was being passed from therapist to clients,
as they took over creative control of their own stories.
In his fourth and final session with Matt, just after his story was enacted, Bert threw the
printed copy of his story in the trash, seemingly rejecting Matt and the therapeutic alliance
they had created over the past three weeks. Later, back in the classroom, Matt expressed
frustration and sadness at Bert’s symbolic act.
Several issues were articulated by the instructors. Robert questioned: “How does one
guide the client who is frightened or disgusted by his own material?” It appeared that Bert
could not sit comfortably with the story that he had told. For Robert, this was an issue of
owning the story. It seemed apparent that part of Bert wanted to embrace the strength-based
roles he created while another part of him rejected the same. It was as if a dual internal
guide was at work—one part integrative; the other disintegrative. Sara concurred, reminding
the class that each client is in a different stage of treatment, and their stories reflected this
spectrum of readiness. Some people were struggling to be present; others were dealing with
anxieties about moving into a new stage in their life.
Matt added that he felt Bert, upon termination, seemed to want to talk about the future
and not look back at the past. It was the last day of the fieldwork project after all, and Matt
suggested that maybe Bert chose to reject his therapist before Matt had a chance to reject
him. Sara added that Bert’s act suggested that he had finished with the story and was ready
to move on. Trashing the story may represent a positive action as he took his work and did
what he needed to do with it. By reframing the act of rejection, Sara suggested the strength-
based roles of Adult and Survivor emerged over and above that of Angry Person. Instead
of communicating rage or fear of abandonment that would leave him disempowered, Bert
demonstrated his readiness to move on.
There was more to the story of termination. As Bert left the therapeutic space for the last
time during the fieldwork project, he approached Matt for a hug. The physical contact that
he sought appeared to mirror his Adult tableau in which he sculpted a parent embracing a
child. Not only had Matt come to represent a parental role for his client, he also represented
a guide, containing Bert in physical and emotional terms. After the hug and as his final
farewell, Bert told Matt: “This was a miracle.”
In playing guide to Bert, Matt was piloted through the clinical process himself. Although
Sara and Robert offered practical advice and theoretical justifications for interventions made,
Bert became Matt’s most important guide, showing his therapist when and how he wanted
to work through his story. By remaining open to a diverse range of guides, Matt took on
more and more of the essential qualities of the guide.
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In processing the overall fieldwork experience, the group expressed some frustration
with the brevity of the work and a concern that the work would have minimal effect. Matt
identified his own need to heal the ills of Bert’s past. Responding to such concerns, Sara
suggested that the process of therapy is a continuum. The students represented one small
part of the client’s journey toward improved balance and health. Robert noted that part of the
process of closure concerns accepting that you do not have all the answers and all the time
to heal all the wounds. He invited the group to reflect upon their godlike need to fully heal
the wounded client and to embrace their modest but very human accomplishments at CDT.

Back in the classroom

With the fieldwork experience behind them, the students moved into the third part of their
educational journey. Back in the classroom, each student returned to playing therapist to
his/her fictional client, preparing to present a brief simulated therapy session to the class. It
had been some time since the students had worked with their fictional clients, necessitating
a warm up to reengage in the therapeutic alliance. One by one, each client/therapist pair met
in the center of the group circle. The therapist was given a simple script of two questions:
“Who are you?” and “What do you want?” while the client was invited to answer through
words, movement and/or sound, a choice based in a continuing search for expression.
As each pair entered the enclosed circle, it became apparent that “Who are you?” and
“What do you want?” were a form of drama therapy psychosocial assessment. All clients
revealed aspects of their roles and stories through their responses. Matt as therapist worked
again with Kevin as Alan Strang. Kevin’s performance was so credible that the instructors
and students alike accepted the work as authentic. When Matt entered Alan’s world of
family and sexual tension, he was struck by unclear personal boundaries and by the need to
guide and contain both his own feelings and those of his client. These are his reflections:

As Alan and I began to walk around the room I explained the exercise and asked him if
he was comfortable with the procedure. He replied, “It’s your session not mine.” His
response did not sit well with me so I decided to continue by stating, “Fair enough,”
because I did not want to be confrontational or open an argument. Later I realized
through peer feedback that it would have been best for me to let Alan know that it was
not my session and that it was his. This was an important point that has stuck with me
ever since. The series of questions felt imposing to me. It reminded me of an exercise
a director might do with an actor to get him closer to the character by answering
these questions spontaneously, to let go of the script and trust what is happening
inside. My tone became more comforting and playful to release tension and to keep
Alan involved. Many aspects were revealed through his responses. Despite Alan’s
angry and isolated feelings it was obvious that he was also a trickster, turning my
tone around and being playful in return. However, it ended much like it began with a
lonely, scared and afraid sense of being. We sat in silence for a moment, in part to let
him know it was okay to have those feelings and that I could handle them. Knowing
the relationship he had with his father it was apparent that he needed validation and
someone to guide him through his present situation.
 R.J. Landy et al. / The Arts in Psychotherapy 32 (2005) 275–292 289

The closing classes of the semester were dedicated to class presentations of simulated and
abbreviated therapy sessions, offering the students an opportunity to explore the efficacy of
drama therapy techniques in the safety of the classroom. All students were invited to plan and
present a brief session with their clients, exploring a number of drama therapy approaches
including storytelling, sandplay, guided imagery, role-playing and theatre games. Although
all involved were reminded that this process was fictional, most entered into it fully engaged,
acting as if these were real moments.

Therapeutic strategies with fictional clients

For Matt, this brief session was an opportunity to further hone his therapeutic skills,
allowing his experience with Bert to inform his work and relationship with Alan. Matt
began the session by inviting Alan to find a place to lie on the floor. Matt played a quiet
musical CD in the background and dimmed the lights. Matt set the scene by informing
the class that this was the third meeting between therapist and client and that Alan had
selected the music himself the previous week. Moving into the session, Matt began with a
physical relaxation exercise, asking Alan to breathe in and out, releasing his tension. Quietly
resting, Alan was led through a guided imagery, imagining an empty space. “What does it
look like?” Matt asked. Alan eagerly replied, “Shall I tell you?” Instead of replying, Matt
redirected Alan back to the guided imagery and asked him to imagine a figure entering the
empty space. Matt clarified that this figure is on a journey. “Can there be two figures?” Alan
asked, then said, “They’re doing it together.” Matt explained to Alan that he was in creative
control and could indeed decide the players in the scene.
He then asked Alan to imagine a third figure in the scene who attempts to prevent the
others from completing their journey. At this point Alan became restless and asked for
the lights to be dimmed further. “I can’t see what I’m imagining,” Alan explained. Matt
dimmed the lights further until the room was quite dark and asked Alan to imagine an
incident in which the third figure is overcome, enabling the other two figures to complete
their journey. After a moment of quiet, Alan threw his arm up in a victorious punch and
yelled, euphorically: “Woo hoo! Ride!”
At this point, Matt directed Alan to become aware of his breath once again, to slowly
let the image go and to orient to the reality of the room. Alan responded: “That was cool!
Why did we have to stop? Let’s do some more imagining.” Matt redirected Alan to name
the roles in the story. Alan responded: “Horse/Rider, Father and Me as Helper.”
Similar to the fieldwork project at CDT, Matt asked Alan to embody each role. Initially
Alan was resistant. In response, Matt invited Alan to collaborate with him on sculpting the
role of the Rider. Matt leaned forward in the pose of an eager jockey with his arm raised
triumphantly in the air. Alan commented, “You looked like you really liked that.” Matt
replied in role, “Right now, I’d like to ride a horse.” Alan’s response was non-verbal—sitting
up and focusing on the task at hand.
Next Matt invited Alan to sculpt the role of the Father. Alan explained that his Father
was having sand kicked in his face as the Rider and Horse galloped past on the beach.
Matt embodied the humiliated Father. With a noticeable surge of energy, Alan stood up
and became physically engaged in the therapeutic process, eager to get this seminal image
290 R.J. Landy et al. / The Arts in Psychotherapy 32 (2005) 275–292

just right. He began to circle the frozen image of the Father, altering a hand gesture and a
facial expression until the image was complete. Standing back, Alan witnessed his sculpt,
responding with a loud laugh and blatantly enjoying the Father’s humiliation.
Sadly there was not time to sculpt the image of “Me as Helper,” but it was interesting to
note Alan’s capacity for collaboration and mastery within the sculpting exercise. Engaging
in this creative act, Alan became an artist and director, adding the finishing touches to
his therapist’s model and exploring his capacity for mastery and control. As a role, “Me
as Helper” appeared to represent the guide in the trinity, forging a bridge between the
humiliated Father and victorious Rider. As the helper, Alan showed his capacity for alliance
and empathy, casting himself in a supporting role. If he could support others, maybe there
was a capacity to feed and support himself.
Following the session, client and therapist remained in role and had an opportunity to
process the session with the other students. Matt as therapist told the group that a central
objective of the session involved getting Alan off the floor and into physical enactment. By
physicalizing his story and the roles within it, Alan would be challenged to experience his
thoughts and ideas in a new way.
On reflection, the student still in role as Alan reported that this physical enactment
was liberating. Once physically engaged, he felt excited by the prospect of playing the
helper, telling the class, “I would have done it. I would have played myself kicking sand in
my dad’s eyes.” More than a role rooted in vengeance, however, the Helper offered Alan a
chance to experience connection and camaraderie with the dynamic male figure of the Rider,
something that was clearly absent from his strained relationship with his father. This desire
for connection was also evident in his growing alliance with Matt. As therapist and client
collaborated on the sculpts, the role of guide shifted between the two men, each guiding the
other, until in the final shift, Alan, having internalized the guide, would discover a way to
guide himself.

Conclusion

Many drama therapists think of their work with clients as a journey. This is a useful
metaphor, because as in classical drama and, in fact, a good part of classical literature and
epic poetry, the process of drama therapy involves a search undergone by a Hero for some
elusive meaning. In the published literature of drama therapy and in many anecdotal reports
and case studies, the heroic journey, because of its risky nature, is not taken alone, but with
the aid of a guide (see, for example, Landy, 1994, 1996a, 2001a).
Most of the drama therapy literature focuses upon the practical, and to a lesser extent, the
theoretical aspects of the field and describes the methods of applying various approaches
to the treatment of a variety of client populations. Although there is much education and
training of drama therapists, little has been written to document that training. This paper
has been one attempt to do so.
It is well known in the field that education and training of drama therapists, and indeed,
of all creative arts therapists, is experiential in nature. In this paper, we have taken a rather
complex experiential process and demonstrated how it seeks to educate students in the sec-
ond semester of their graduate studies in a course called Drama Therapy for the Emotionally
 R.J. Landy et al. / The Arts in Psychotherapy 32 (2005) 275–292 291

Disturbed. The process of learning was uniquely focused on the concept of the guide, and
we offered a rather detailed view of that figure. As we have seen, the guide is, on the one
hand, an external figure represented by the therapist who leads clients on the path toward
discovery. As an external figure, the teacher is also a guide who leads students on a similar
journey.
On the other hand, the guide is also an internal figure that is taken on by clients and
students so that they may separate and individuate from their external guides and move
forward on their own. Throughout this paper, the question has been raised in many contexts,
“Who is guiding whom?” We have attempted to answer the question from multiple points of
view. Not only does the teacher guide the student and the student/therapist guide the client;
but also the client guides the student and the student guides the teacher. And, a bit more
obliquely, the client guides the teacher and the teacher guides the client and one student
guides another. When speaking of the guide in the education of the drama therapist, we
have tried to demonstrate some of the possible permutations and relationships of the guide
and the guided. In many ways, each role involved in the process served a guiding function
in the classroom and in the clinic. Each theatrical character, standing in as a client, served
to guide the students as did each actual CDT client whose fictional stories offered a guiding
narrative that complimented that found in the client’s clinical chart.
The dramatic process in all its many forms is about living in and among two simul-
taneous realities—that of the everyday and that of the imaginary—and two simultaneous
identities—that of the actor, the me, and that of the role, the not-me. In consciously at-
tempting to bridge the gap and live within the dramatic paradox, all everyday and theatrical
actors experience a certain tension and, at times, excitement. These moments can be quite
small, as in understanding the dual meanings of a pun. Or they can be rather powerful, as
in experiencing a personal transformation through embodying a particularly potent role.
Drama therapy, as one manifestation of the dramatic experience, concerns a search for
integration among discrepant and often contradictory roles, tendencies and life themes.
All involved in teaching and learning, in practicing and receiving treatment engage in a
similar search. When they realize that sense of integration, they have indeed experienced
a shift of consciousness. Something has changed. At the moment of change, something
new is learned or something old is re-visioned. In drama therapy, we think of that change
occurring through therapeutic treatment. But like effective treatment, the change can also
occur through effective education. At some very basic level, therapy and education lead to
the same goal—that of change and integration. Throughout this paper, we have offered a
way to conceptualize change and integration through the figure of the guide. If the guide
is present, the dramatic process progresses. If it is absent, it stalls. In looking at a practical
process of drama therapy education, we have attempted to offer a view of some of the
progressive and regressive movements on the journey toward integration.

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