Imaginative Teaching, Humility, and the Longview: A Conversation with Dance Professor Molly Heller
For the past five years, it has been an honor to be in dialogue with Salt Lake City-based artist Molly Heller about her creative practice and teaching practice.
In August 2022, a few days before Molly began another semester as an assistant professor at the University of Utah, we caught up on Zoom to talk about her upcoming semester and recurring themes of hope and imaginative teaching.
While a few months have passed since the interview, at this moment in December it is refreshing to read these words and connect to ideas as we all complete our fall semester. Common threads in Molly’s life, which I take inspiration from and greatly value, include reflection, curiosity, and growth mindset.
Jill Randall (JR): What is your fall schedule?
Molly Heller (MH): My fall is a bit heavier than normal, as one class moved from the spring to the fall.
I teach two grad courses: thesis research and teaching methods. The thesis research course is exciting for me, because it’s combined with both ballet and modern grads. I also teach graduate teaching methods in preparation for teaching in higher ed. Then there is advanced improv for undergrads — one of my favorite classes — and level III technique class.
In addition, I’m chairing a graduate thesis committee and serving as a committee member on another.
Fall is full of travel and my teaching load, but I have taught them all before. I have a framework and structure. It does not feel overwhelming. For the past 8 years I have been teaching new courses each semester.
JR: Crawling out of the pandemic, what keeps you hopeful or who keeps you hopeful, as you head into another year of teaching? Through activities like traveling, thinking of particular students. Those broad hopes about the magic of what we do — students, the open space of the studio, making something together…
MH: It is a merging of many feelings. Hope comes from survival right now. We are still navigating Covid and a general spike in illness. In our field, we have had to adapt so much. There is a little fear there, but the last 2 years have also provided a lot of hope. We have adapted where the boundaries are, what we care about — to distill what really matters. We danced in our living rooms, in parking lots; and we all managed in different capacities to negotiate that. Hope is always built inside the form, because it is about change.
I think about the essence of dance — the body is just changing. It is choosing something and then something else. Nothing will last too long. Everything changes. Sometimes it is heartbreaking, and (thankfully) sometimes heart opening.
For me, there is not hope in an idea; I find hope within movement.
We are navigating it together — whether it’s depression, or excitement to be in a classroom. Everyone I talk to, it is not too far off from how I am feeling. It makes me feel less alone in doing it, though my story is different from your story. We have similar feelings of uncertainty. The pandemic exaggerated uncertainty, and thus an interdependence, which I think is healthy.
I feel more available to say things openly like, “Today is really hard.” Emotionality was a bit removed before, but now I think there is more realness. That will lead to bigger things, like prioritizing mental health and wellness — things that are important to me.
JR: When I think of imagination, I think of you. Over the past few months I have been noodling on this idea, “What is imaginative teaching?” I have wanted to talk with you about it.
MH: I love thinking about imagination. It is built in with survival. Imagination at its roots has a childlike wonder, but it can also be a byproduct of difficulty. This can be the escape, way out, or way through. I see it as both innocence and a very wise body figuring out difficulty. It is complex to talk about. In one moment it reminds me of turmoil and in another it is about possibilities.
Holding that in teaching is important. As teachers, we are providing a framework for people to be curious and to ask questions. And hopefully to figure it out as a cohort. If I am coming in with an agenda to find an answer, I no longer feel imaginative or creative.
Maybe coming in instead with concepts, proposals, and options. There is a selection process and asking process. I am mentoring that process. And opening up another door to keep peeking through.
Imagination is also knowing what doors can shut. I used to think of imagination as everything is open all of the time. But that can produce anxiety. Imagination is paradoxical — open while having containers.
Imaginative teaching is curious, creative, and also understanding limitations. I talk about limitations a lot; they can be really helpful. A barrier to rub against, to innovate and open up.
JR: To go further with the ideas of humility, transparency, and specificity…Humility on this journey with the students. But there is also the artistry of specificity. This course, this room, this group of students.
MH: Humility comes along with humor. Creativity, and play. Rigor is important to drive something; otherwise imagination can feel unreachable. Rigor, or the word specificity, can help us in terms of progress. That we are progressing, leaning in, moving towards something. That a group of people can figure out solutions together. Humility to work as a group.
Yet, just asking the questions I do not think is enough. That is where I think rigor, focus, and specificity are needed. Otherwise we could do this without the structure of academia.
To try out ideas. Humility allows us to see (and admit) when things are not working.
Flexibility and a lot of listening in my teaching are really important.
JR: On the flip side, I have been thinking about: Training for what? Courses for what?
Imagining what is ahead for young people. Wondering about the layers of that — imagining who is in the room, what you are teaching, what is ahead for the students. Grounding in real world connections. Thoughts?
MH: It is about people, connecting, and the power of storytelling. I personally learn the most from hearing someone’s journey. The power of listening to many stories, the power of having conversations, and the power of proposing questions and listening. Students are still figuring out their story and how to tell it. What is relevant, always, is how someone figured something out. Hearing about problem solving, challenges, and where things intersect. When dance is at the forefront for someone; when dance is secondary. Students love listening — connecting to the human part of it. I like making space for storytelling off the page: Skyping, bringing guests in, and creating panels.
What are we training for? What are we doing?
I do not know if there is a longevity plan. We are so much more in the NOW, right now. I want students to understand their personal identity. What is important to you? Where will you thrive? What are you attracted to? What are your boundaries? Growing into yourself. Then dance is just accompanying you.
A lot of the work in the class is knowing your story and your core beliefs. If you have that, then you can take a break from dance and have more complexity.
JR: Bringing your wholeness into the classroom!
MH: Dance is the vehicle to get to the bigger questions. We might not know the answer when we ask the question, but maybe a movement prompt will do that. That is the beauty of improvisation. Advanced Improvisation, a class I teach to the juniors, is monumental. The body is figuring it out with them. There is a readiness.
Not what you want, but how do you want to feel? Improv can get at that.
JR: One of the other teaching binds, or generative tensions, is about longview. You are about to head into this semester, yet these essential questions are supporting them for a future — whether in dance or not. The hope that they can pull these ideas forward for many years ahead.
MH: Getting out of your own way as a teacher…what has longevity is when you see the person. The essence of who they are is what they will have their whole life. What does this human need at this time? Not coming at it as what I might want them to grow into but what is already present. What already exists in them. That is what has longevity.
If you really just listen, they will tell you what they need. I am a big fan of the first two weeks — soaking it in. Making my syllabus adaptable. That uncertainty is exciting for the new school year. What is going to work for this group of people?
Some things are just for the day, but the person decides if it will be the longview. And then some days you have this special unit plan, and nobody cares.
We get to decide, but don’t get to decide the impact. For me, everyday is its own package. That is all that I might get.
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