The Pedagogy of a Great Teacher

Remember as you read this that the reason given for the recent termination of Larry Reiman’s contract was failing to meet Interlochen’s rising standards.

My understanding of the theater and directing was realized and given to me by my teachers at Interlochen. Reiman was one of the most influential. During my time at Interlochen, Reiman was highly sought after as a teacher and was known for his wealth and encyclopedic knowledge of 20th century American theater. Reiman was of the first class of Juilliard and the wealth of his experience collected from his professional career allowed for well rounded acting instruction in both theory and practice. As a man of many connections, Larry often brought exciting and influential guest artists to Interlochen. He is an active playwright.

Reiman is an excellent teacher. His contributions to our education were crucial and essential. The frequent discussions he lead were incisive and insightful. Engaged and enthusiastic, his presence as a teacher invigorated our analyses and conception of the theatrical form as young artists. At the same time, Reiman was always gracious to his students, listening and engaging in discussion with them with vigor and respect.

Larry Reiman specifically taught me how to construct and act a comedic scene. He also taught me; The Actor is the only artist who isn’t supposed to look like he/she is practicing their art, All the different types of plays; Farce, Melodrama, Absurdist, Tragedy ect., How a play establishes itself in both style and form, What dramatic irony means, The importance of sequencing, The movements of romanticism, expressionism naturalism, impressionism and how they expressed themselves through the theatrical medium, The set up (comedy), How not to overact, How to play subtlety, Line delivery, Accent training, Monologue rehearsal, Diction, Enunciation, The many different styles of Acting Technique from Stanislavsky to Meisner, Pantomime, Improvisation, Audition technique, How to deliver irony, sarcasm and wit, The elements of visual composition, The parts of the stage and the psychology pertaining to each individual section, Singe, dual, closed and diversified emphasis, Counter focus, Theatrical compositional stability, Blocking, Developing Sound and Light Cues, Time in proportion to dramatic progression, Dramatic rhythm, Pacing, Casting, Emotional tonality and Cold readings. He introduced me to the works of Orson Welles, Tyrone Guthrie, Elia Kazan, Eugène Ionesco, Max Reinhardt and Mike Nichols.

He also taught me that in tragedy a hero is “brought down” by a tragic flaw or error and that the genre of tragedy itself is a celebration of the nobility of man. It is therefor evident that the contract termination of Larry Reiman is indeed a tragedy, for there could be no better candidate for a theater instructor. Larry was always kind to his students, always warm hearted, always positive and always eager to teach what he loves to those who are thirsty and excited for it.

Please tell the Interlochen Administration to revise their decision.

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Parker Marshall graduated from IAA in 2006.

Jean Gaede came to me one day in my early years at IAA and said some students were looking to restart the student newspaper, the Blue Caller, and she recommended me to them as an advisor. Shortly thereafter Lacy, Marcel and David came by full of investigative ideas and artistic enthusiasm and the Blue Caller was reborn! In the second year of publication the students wanted their final edition as graduating seniors to be a strong farewell to IAA and it was very…expressive. There were several controversial articles about which some concerns were raised in the editorial meetings but the editors felt strongly about the content and justified in publishing it. As advisor, I believe the purpose of a student publication is to express the students’ views and I further believe that freedom of the press, while by no means absolute in a school or any other setting, is designed to allow controversial opinions to be expressed. The paper was published and a bit of a firestorm ensued.

Shortly after publication I was summoned to a meeting with Tim Wade and Jennifer Wesling to ‘discuss’ the newspaper. I knew they and others were unhappy with this edition of the Blue Caller but I was comfortable defending the content and Lacy, Marcel and David’s editorial decisions. At the end of the meeting, the administrators accepted that I had, in fact, closely supervised publication of the paper and, while they did not agree with all my decisions, explicitly said that they saw the value of a student-run newspaper and did not intend to censor the publication now or in the future.

That’s how things have changed at Interlochen.

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Amy Arntsen is a former IAA Instructor (1999-2008).

Two of the three students involved approved the article, the third was contacted but did not respond.

In 2001, my friend Kevin and I were approaching the Harvey Theater on a perfect spring morning when we were accosted by squirrels. Two squirrels, one light grey and one dark grey ambushed our ankles in a swirling frenzy of wonder and fun like two dancing creatures out of nowhere before scampering back to the foot of their trees to watch us watch them but we were frozen in delight and astonished surprise. As more students arrived, the same two young squirrels would anoint them with their rambunctious attacks. Some would run away screaming, others shrieked and laughed, “Mad squirrels—the squirrels are attacking—run for your lives!”
We didn’t know whether to stay and play or run from rabies. But something gentle in the trees told us to stay and play. They were baby squirrels—we figured they probably couldn’t gum us into rabies.

Eventually they returned with their same frantic circling—sizing up our intentions as they skirted, tails lifted and eyes mischievous, the final edges of the melting snow and took their first big chance playing with theater majors in front of the Harvey Theater in the light of an Interlochen morning.

Kevin squatted down after the third squirrel raid on our ankles and he called out to them in squirrel talk. Kevin was from Colorado and it must be in their nature to know some squirrel talk because the squirrels were looking at us the way we looked at them just a few moments before.

I did my best to speak squirrel by imitating Kevin’s Colorado squirrel talk version. I repeated whatever he spoke so I suppose they figured us for a passing Greek Chorus. They sidled over to us and this time they stayed and ran up our arms and across our shoulders and looked at each other figuring to join our troop.

We took them inside the Harvey. They were too young to fear the inside of a building—they watched everything and allowed us to handle them and we calmed any anxiousness they might have felt by talking soft squirrel talk and giving their backs a petting.

Our theater classmates were surprised to see two thespians entering the Harvey with two squirrels. But it didn’t take a minute before we were all petting those critters and talking a bit of squirrel talk—in different lingos of course—but talking squirrel talk and none of our squirrel talk sounded the same. But the squirrels loved it.

As class time neared we figured we better release them back into the wild. They would have no part of it. They risked being crushed in the door trying to follow us and that was a problem. What if they had lost their moms or fell from their nest—and couldn’t find their way home—they were pretty young to be out on their own.

So Kevin and I took them to the man who would best know what to do—Mike Chamberlain.

Mike was the Ecology Master of Interlochen for generations of students. He knew everything about nature and then some. Mr. Chamberlin would know what to do with squirrels.

Mr. Chamberlin was alone when we entered his classroom from the outside door with the two grey squirrels. He was the only person we had seen all morning who was calm when he looked at the squirrels. He inspected the squirrels closely while we expressed our concern that these two squirrels seem too young to be loosed into the wild—they seem lost—what should we do? Should we try to take care of them? We didn’t want them to die.

Mr. Chamberlin smiled. “The best thing to do is take them to a tree in front of the Harvey and try to put them on a tree nearby—they will follow their mother’s scent and find their way back to the nest.”
Kevin asked. “But what if they don’t?”
Mr. Chamberlin said: “They both look healthy—usually it is better to let nature take care of its own and in its own time, in its own way. I think they should be fine.”

So Kevin and I thanked Mr. Chamberlin and took our two squirrel friends back to one of the nearer trees in front of the Harvey Theater and just like Mr. Chamberlin said—they latched on to the bark and darted up and down and across and finally up toward their home in the branches above.

I saw those squirrels frequently in my remaining time at Interlochen. I watched them grow and find their way. I knew it was them because I heard them talking squirrel talk to me when I passed underneath their homes and that made all the difference in the world. Mr. Chamberlin knew nature and nature knows Mr. Chamberlin. And every kind of creature loves him dearly.

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S.B.

To the Administration of Interlochen Arts Academy,

During my time at the Academy, I was chosen to be a spokesperson of sorts for the Interlochen donation campaign. As a South African student able to attend Interlochen only through generous donations and much help from sponsors and friends, I shared my story with the school and its supporters in order to demonstrate my gratitude for the immense gift an Interlochen education is. At the time, I felt immense pride in helping Interlochen continue its work of educating and empowering young artists. It is with great disappointment and concern that I write to you now, to say that I fear the school I love so much is taking a path I cannot be proud of.

My two years at the Academy were undoubtedly the best and most influential of my life thus far. Interlochen became far more than a school in my mind and heart. It was home, it was inspiration, and it was a freedom to celebrate and express in all areas of my life, not only the arts. At Interlochen, I met teachers who I count among my dearest friends. I forged friendships that have survived some of the most difficult times of my life as well as immense physical distance. I came to accept myself as I never could in my home country. I came to understand myself and the world in a way I feel I could have understood nowhere else.

At the same time, however, I observed the direction the administration was taking in its policies and approach, and while they bothered me, I kept mainly silent. I was brought up to value discretion and restraint, and also to count my blessings, and so for two years I did. I was grateful to Interlochen for everything it had given me, and so I intended to quell my protests at some of its faults. Now I must finally admit that I can no longer keep silent.

I cannot support an administration that does not listen to the students it is meant to serve. I was told by one of my greatest teachers that, contrary to the famous “Art lives here” slogan, art does not live at Interlochen. The students and the teachers live at Interlochen, and they make art. Without the students and teachers, there is no Interlochen. How, then, can the administration disregard the indescribable impact our teachers have by callously dismissing one of the finest teachers Interlochen could boast of? How could they continue to disregard the voice of the students in ways that range from censoring the Blue Collar to answering all protestations from the students with either vague half-explanations that usually skirt around the issue or else a frustrating silence? How can I give my support to an administration that is steadily ruining all that I hold dear at the school that made me what I am?

The current students of Interlochen are not having the experience I and my classmates were lucky enough to have. That much is certain from doing two things the administration has never seemed to wholeheartedly attempt: talking to and listening to them. Even during my time at the Academy, there was a constant sense of frustration that we, the people who formed the backbone of Interlochen’s existence, were denied a voice. We had little to no say in how things were run, where money went, and the focus Interlochen was to have. We were denied this in many ways, ranging from blatant refusal to acknowledge us, to our unspoken fear that we would be targeted by the administration as threats or liabilities and expelled or otherwise dismissed. We, as students, had a lot to be grateful for, and therefore a lot to lose. It is this disturbing paradox that has fueled the anger, frustration, and distrust with which the students often approach the administration.

I am not going to outline every problem I have with the administration in this letter. It would run on for many more pages, and besides, others have said it more effectively and precisely. I aim instead for this letter to serve as more than a complaint. It is a plea.

It is a plea from someone who has given all her best effort to the school that empowered her with the words she uses now. It is a plea from someone who has no resources but the friendships she forged at Interlochen, and the passion for art, freedom, and integrity that the people at Interlochen instilled in her. It is a plea for the administration to listen and speak with students, staff and alumni in a manner that is transparent and honest. It is a plea for them to do more than that: to implement what is expected and requested of them. Read the posts on the Facebook pages, the tumblr and twitter accounts, the many, many letters and emails being sent your way. Face the protests and complaints with the integrity and personal honesty you claim to expect from students. Answer and account for your failings in a manner that is just and devoid of excuses and doublespeak. If you want to preserve Interlochen as a place where art and all it stands for: freedom, idealism, honesty, and a firm and powerful resistance to material gain, deception and tyranny in all its forms small and great, you will take heed of the people who bring it into being every school year, every summer, with every performance and word and brushstroke. Until tangible progress is shown, I must regrettably withdraw my financial and vocal support for Interlochen Center for the Arts, though the people who are its lifeblood will always be dear to me.

Sincerely,
Mishka Hoosen

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Mishka Hoosen graduated in May 2011. She is currently a student of Psychology at Rhodes University in South Africa.

I’m a music major, class of 2013. I’m a first year coming from a fantastic summer of camp. Though I’d heard that Academy would be “different”, I couldn’t have imagined it would be like this. From June to August here, I grew to love Interlochen for what it was- a place for the arts. We didn’t need new shiny technology or multimillion dollar buildings, all we needed was passion. It was the driving force behind everything. Though there were certainly the behind the scenes fundraising and money making, it wasn’t the focus. During the school year, it is. And I strongly believe it’s because we’re studying under administration that doesn’t understand what we do. All they they care about is our precious tuition, “moving forward”, moving towards becoming just a regular boarding school. The fact that we are the top arts boarding school in the country is what distinguishes us, and it simply doesn’t make sense- why move AWAY from that? They claim that we are acquiring the best technology and resources to further our education. Now, I’m certainly not opposed to different ways of learning. I’m not opposed to a new music building and cafeteria, which frankly, is extremely needed. What I am opposed to is when that doesn’t benefit, or actually takes away from, our art. This is moving further away from a good environment. The incredible teachers in academics and the arts aren’t getting anything out of this, either. During a debate we had in English today about the new changes, my teacher said we were echoing exactly what the entire Liberal Arts department (and the rest of the school) was thinking. It’s the real artists and thinkers here versus the administration, and the only people who will benefit are the money makers. I think they know that perfectly well.
Some of you may also be interested to hear about a junior meeting I was required to attend last night. The first half was essentially President Kimpton “explaining what he does”. He began by saying something along the lines of, “some of you may wonder why I’m not at concerts, readings, plays, and performances. Well, it’s because I have a lot to do.” He went on to explain he was always traveling, working with national boards, fundraising, and other administrative work. As I looked around the room I began to wonder how many of us he could actually name. He went on to make several mistakes in his presentation, accidentally omitting majors and slipping up saying how music is in the morning. (That was a significant change this current year when it was moved to the afternoons.) It was proof of how little he does and knows for the students. His team went on to explain MORE changes: a “modified block” schedule in which they take away our flex day, a new singer-songwriter major, and plans for a new Stone Cafeteria and music building. Students were obviously having a hard time holding their tongues and I saw several hands raised and lowered when it came time for questions.
None of us are okay with this. We all have the exact same concerns and worries. All we want is to preserve an institution that has done so much for us. I fear for the future of this place and I see it slip downhill. As I see it, if it’s not broke, don’t fix it.
So, Interlochen, when are you going to listen?

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This story was sent by a current student who preferred to have their name withheld.

These are the experiences of one student; they may not reflect the opinions of all student body.

A darkened bus, traveling from Chicago back up to the frozen woods of Northern Michigan. It’s February of 2004, and the theatre arts department is returning from its annual trip to the Unified auditions in Chicago, where seniors (and postgraduates, in my case) audition for the selective BFA actor training programs we hope to move on to after Interlochen. My weekend has not gone well. I felt stilted and self-conscious at all of my auditions; I’m convinced I won’t be getting a single offer. Worse, I have no back-up plan. I’m already a post-grad, so there’s no returning to IAA for me. The future, from my 18 year-old perspective, looks decidedly bleak.

Larry Reiman is sitting across the isle from me and has picked up on my mood. I haven’t had as much experience with Larry as a teacher as some of my classmates have. I was in his Voice & Diction class in my first semester, where he passed on the skills he learned directly from the legendary Edith Skinner in his time at Juilliard (Edith has passed on now and her original students are encountered rarely). He also teaches acting and directing, does private monologue coaching, and directs at least one show a year in the Harvey theater. He did, however, help me with some last-minute work on my audition for the NFAA youngARTS awards, both coaching and filming my monologues for submission. His work was very effective: I was a finalist, and won the highest level award that year.

But back to that bus ride. Larry asks me how I felt about my auditions and I tell him. He listens attentively. He doesn’t waste time trying to convince me that I performed better than I thought. Instead, he lists some other schools that I might look into as alternatives. He praises the work that I’ve done at Interlochen that year. Most importantly, he tells me to “stick to it.” “Commitment counts for more in this business than anything else. Most people will drop out after a few years. It’s the people who stick to it that are the real deal.”

I didn’t know how to receive this information at the time. I wanted comfort from Larry; he gave me good advice. As it turns out, my fears that night were unfounded. I ended up being accepted to a very good BFA program (where the speech skills Larry taught me came in very handy), but the years following that have only proven Larry’s wisdom. Though I love it, this is is an unforgiving profession. The actor’s path is twisted and rocky, marked with many more failures than successes. Sometimes, looking forward, things seem impossible, but I remember Larry’s advice. “Stick to it.” I have, and I’m glad. The fact that I’m still an actor today can be traced back to that conversation with Larry.

It’s a dire time for the arts in this country. It seems they have always been under siege, but in the current economic climate the critics of arts programs, of arts institutions, and (most importantly) of artists are making their voices heard loud and clear. In times like this, places like Interlochen become tremendously important. They are producing the next generations, the young people who will be fighting for the the place of art in America and shepherding the new forms and innovations. The teachers who mold these young artists, who mentor them and give them opportunities, are the most indispensable part of these institutions. The great ones are rare. Larry Reiman is one of the great ones. His commitment to his students, current and former, is prodigious. Interlochen should be showing the same commitment to him. It should be protecting the place of artists in our society, not participating in their further marginalization. It should recognize that its power as an institution has always been, and will always be, its students and teachers. I am profoundly disappointed in the place which I used to think of as an artistic home, and I can only wonder, with some fear, what comes next.

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Grant Chapman graduated from IAA in 2004.

I owe everything I am to Interlochen. Which is why it’s hard to see this institution fail the people that it needs to support the most—the students. It’s almost impossible to put into words the profound sense of disillusionment and disappointment I felt in Interlochen’s administration during my last two years at the academy. What kept me sane was the incredible faculty—people like Larry Reiman who were closer than teachers, who were mentors and friends and, above all, GOOD PEOPLE who will never deserve treatment like this. As much depth of gratitude as I owe Interlochen, they owe me, and all their alumni (particularly in their 50th anniversary year) some degree of transparency. If we have questions, we should get honest answers, particularly with the heavy emphasis on alumni financial support. The faculty at Interlochen did me the courtesy of treating me like an adult, of letting me make my own decisions and trusting that I was smart enough to know when something wasn’t fair. If they can do that when I was 15, I don’t understand why the administration can’t do that for me at 19.

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Delali Ayivor graduated from the academy in 2011. She was a Creative Writing major. Delali is currently a student at Reed College.

I am incredibly grateful to have spent all four high school years at Interlochen. Larry Reiman’s first year was my first year. In fact, he was at my audition before he even began his first semester. After many years of training and teachers I can say that Larry is one of the finest. He knows that play is the most important element of acting and offered a safe place to explore. At a time when I often felt overlooked, Larry gave me the opportunities to grow.

Two of my most memorable shows at Interlochen were directed by Larry. “The Skin of Our Teeth” and “Crimes of the Heart.” Produced only one year apart, they were defining moments in my artistic development. The first in which I played a hyperactive child and the second in which I was Meg, an actress returning home to her roots. In the former I learned to take risks, to be ridiculous, to have FUN. In working on the latter, I realized that I was no longer a fourteen year old freshman. I was quickly growing up and about to graduate. Working on Crimes of the Heart helped me to unearth the woman I was about to become.

Larry was a rock for me then as he continues to be for me now. It is a tragedy that IAA has treated him and so many other influential instructors this way. Larry is happiest in the classroom. He is the most alive with his students, pulling out talent they didn’t know existed.
This sad event has brought to light the state of the administration today and the direction it wishes to travel. Among other issues, the focus on Interlochen as a PRODUCT as opposed to a haven of study and inspiration is an affront to Joe Maddy’s dream.

Larry fostered artists who not only care about their craft, but who cannot ignore injustice. It is the lessons I learned at IAA that propel me to demand a change in the institution before all integrity is lost.

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Faith Streng graduated from Interlochen in 2004 and from Northern Illinois University in 2008. She has studied improv at Chicago’s The Second City and theatre in Cluj, Romania. Faith also appeared in the world premiere of Tennessee Williams’s The Day on Which a Man Dies. She is an actress and comedian in Los Angeles.

My name is Taylor Beia and I am President and Co-founder of Gun Street Pictures, based in Los Angeles. I graduated from IAA in 2008, and will soon graduate from CalArts this spring. On behalf of Larry Reiman, I feel obliged to step in and defend my mentor of many years.

It has come to my attention that those who currently run the Academy no longer see it fit that Larry continues teaching at Interlochen. The decision to fire him by terminating his contract has seen a massive reaction from students, alumni, faculty, and parents across the board. There is overwhelming opposition towards firing someone who has positively affected so many young lives, and for good reason. Larry is the kind of educator who doesn’t stop teaching at the end of the school day, in fact many of the most important lessons I have learned from him came from “off the clock” during and after my time as a student. He is the single faculty member who has followed my post-Interlochen career with genuine enthusiasm and commitment. He has advised, encouraged, scolded, steered me throughout these many years. Larry goes above and beyond what his job description entails, that is why it is a pivotal mistake to fire him.

While at Interlochen, I learned that Larry’s greatest feature is his perspective. He has the uncanny ability to take the oddball student or the ones who are struggling and push them in the right direction. I am not ashamed to say that I was a student that lacked experience, ethic, and motivation. Without Larry I can safely say that I wouldn’t have made it to CalArts nor start my own company. Most importantly, I wouldn’t have been an actor.

I can’t begin to tell you the many gifts of wisdom he has given me through the years. I will not stop fighting for hi

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Taylor Beia graduated from Interlochen Arts Academy in 2008 as a theater major; and will soon graduate from CalArts with a BFA in Acting. He is President and Co-founder of Gun Street Pictures.