Creativity & Hope Amid Educational Restrictions
by Molly Phillips, Candice Duncan-Baune, and Danielle Mužina
Keywords: museum education, gallery teaching strategies, social-emotional learning, LGBTQ+ representation, DEI, restrictive legislation
Over the past several years, students and educators in the United States have encountered numerous challenges, from a global pandemic that upended the way we learn and connect, to intense violence both within this country and all over the world. It’s no wonder why educators are burnt out and mental health concerns are on the rise for school-aged children. The 2023–2024 school year began with new challenges as well. In school communities all over the country, strict policies, and, in some cases, laws were put into place dictating what teachers could and could not teach.
We are three museum educators currently working in Ohio and North Carolina. Previously colleagues at the same museum, we were brought together again when a group of museum educators met virtually to discuss how to handle some of the restrictions put in place this school year. The conversation left us, and many museum educators, wondering: what can we do, and how do we move forward?
No matter what happens, art remains a tangible conduit, highlighting the intricacies of lived experiences within societal structures and realms of oppression. By engaging with artistic narratives, students are drawn into a space of heightened empathy and sustained engagement with complex social issues. The creators within visual, literary, and performance arts emerge as transformative agents, challenging norms, empowering marginalized voices, and reshaping collective perspectives. Embracing diverse representation in artistic narratives enables a profound exploration of intersecting identities, offering a multi-layered understanding of environments, relationships, and individuality. We, museum educators, aim to foster not just awareness but also proactive engagement, inspiring individuals to participate in actionable change by sharing these impactful stories or by boldly crafting their narratives through art.
Here, we offer both reflections based on personal views and some of the teaching strategies we’ve taken, aiming to provide our community with hope.
Reflections From North Carolina
In August 2023, North Carolina passed Senate Bill 49, also known as a Parents Bill of Rights, joining other states such as Florida and Georgia. The bill required North Carolina teachers to notify parents of any mental health discussions or use of student services, as well as any changes to pronouns.¹ On the surface, it seemed like this new law might not affect any school-museum partnerships or field trips. However, conversations around mental health and identity are very common in a museum setting, and now could potentially put a student or a teacher in a challenging position. In Georgia, we know of at least one instance where a classroom teacher challenged a policy around gender identity resulting in her firing.²
For some of you, direct conversations relating to identity or social-emotional health are no longer possible in a museum setting due to the strict guidelines in schools; this is alarming. I was recently reminded that while I had to change a lesson topic from Social-Emotional Learning Through Art to a more general topic that didn’t reference mental health, many of the lesson’s goals are still achievable. I lamented to another colleague about this, and they reminded me that while we may not be able to directly say a visit to the art museum supports a student’s mental health, we know this is the case. Students still experience mindfulness through close looking exercises. They are witness to artists’ emotions, and naturally find connections to their own complex feelings. It may feel uneasy to leave these goals out of lesson plans, but I do find comfort in knowing they still happen each time a student walks into the museum.
Museum educators have made progress in creating learning experiences that open a student’s perspective or help them discuss complex emotions such as anxiety. Any time a student visits an art museum, they see something that changes their perspective and challenges their thinking. They may find comfort through quiet reflection in the galleries and enjoy the break from regimented school schedules.
So while we may need to take pause in our progress in order to support the teachers and students we work with, remember that a trip to an art museum is more valuable to a student than no trip.
Reflections From Ohio
It’s a truly magical day when you get to call your parents and tell them that you got a job, THE job, as a gallery educator in a museum in Ohio.
Cue the honeymoon phase — also known as the uphill learning curve — where you meet your new colleagues, revel in the feeling of getting to go ‘behind-the-scenes’ in an institution you know and love, and start shadowing, understanding, and absorbing the pedagogy of your department.
Now that your brain is fully in gallery educator mode, you start reading up, discovering new curricula, and networking with colleagues. After all, you’re an educator and deeply committed to the transformative power of museum experiences.
Turns out Ohio wants to limit how educators talk about race and religion. Turns out giving students a safe space to discuss health and sexual education and LGBTQ+ identity isn’t a top priority. Actually, many legislators and parents don’t think it should be on the curriculum at all. The passing and proposal of bills that challenge the freedom of teaching across the United States, as well as the rhetoric around those bills, have limited the scope and depth of discussions around race and LGBTQ+ issues. In Ohio, these include the Parental Bill of Rights, House Bill 8; Sub House Bill 327, which prohibits teaching, advocating, or promoting divisive concepts; and the Ohio Higher Education Enhancement Act, Senate Bill 83 and its companion House Bill 151. Sometimes, these executive decisions aren’t even coming from the state government. Roadblocks appear from the Catholic Diocese in our cities, or from parent lobbyists.
Suddenly, you’re seeing the patchwork of restrictions and you’re not quite sure where you stand. Museums, as institutions, are finding it even more difficult to navigate the gray area of museum education. Some institutions are not inclined to disrupt existing power structures, leading many actors who want change to feel like we’re walking on eggshells, while the more vocal advocates may face repercussions for their defiance.
As educators deeply committed to the transformative power of museum experiences — as well as their potential to foster positive social change — we find ourselves amidst a complex environment where the boundaries of teaching and the narratives we can impart are increasingly threatened and constrained. Educators, though, we’re resilient and resourceful, and museum collections are the perfect vectors to transcend educational frameworks. More often than not, our students are our allies. The Scooby to our Shaggy, if you will, steering conversations into more depth, making space for one another, and emanating curiosity and kindness.
Now you sit here in your favorite gallery, blinking at the artworks, wondering how you are going to facilitate open and inclusive discussions about artists representative of identities and issues that are deemed by the state as ‘teaching, promoting or advocating divisive concepts.’
Strategies to Use Gallery Experiences to Change Perspective
We share here some approaches we’ve taken, along with anecdotes and examples of how we’ve applied our ideas. We’ve also discussed these approaches with our virtual community of museum educators across the country as we continue to brainstorm, problem-solve, and support one another.
Strategy 1: Indirect Methods & Core Concepts
We sometimes find ourselves crafting creative ways to talk about Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) or social-emotional learning in indirect ways, distilling core elements of inclusivity, interconnectedness, counter-storytelling, cultural exchange, and bridging differences in our teaching.
In front of an abstract sculpture whose title references extraterrestrial life, inviting viewers to interpret the shapes imaginatively, I ask elementary students,“What are aliens? How are they similar or different to humans?” The students then build their own aliens, identifying the alien’s special talent, what they care about, and what they are worried about — bridging and celebrating their differences. We then talk about what a diverse range of aliens we created, and what kind of leader or community would be most inclusive and responsible to those aliens’ concerns and abilities. I have found this to be a great way to indirectly talk about inclusion and diversity in the real world through metaphor.
As we write this, there continues to be uncertainty about how deeply these strict guidelines will affect our work and exactly how they could evolve. Although we don’t wish for it, we could see restrictions around language and vocabulary usage deeply hindering or completely suppressing our ability to conduct conversations at certain artworks with students — a devastating blow to museums around the whole country. However, amidst any existing and future legislation, we’re committed to centering inclusivity, safety, and positive, meaningful experiences with art — no matter how creative we have to get.
Strategy 2: Close Looking & Reflection
We’re fascinated by the magic that happens between the students in front of artworks when time is spent close-looking. We celebrate the connections they make and the ease with which they sink their minds into themes, artworks or objects they’ve never previously thought about.
Introducing a kindergarten class to a mihrab, a prayer niche built in mosques facing the direction of Mecca, led to a conversation about safe spaces and what they might look like for all of us. Students shared the following: “My safe space is my bed, with my blankie.”; “I like to lie on my trampoline and look at the sky.”; “My safe space is my dog because he always knows how to make me feel better about my feelings.”
Strategy 3: Meditating on Materials
At one of Sopheap Pich’s seed pods, we discuss his use of recycled materials: steel wire from conflict remnants and bamboo/rattan. These materials symbolize the enduring impact of the Khmer Rouge and Cambodia’s cultural resilience. The seeds represent rebuilding a nation and cultural identity, even while their emptiness conveys hunger and devastation. The two seeds’ arrangement — smaller turning toward larger — suggests reassurance and affection amid adversity. I ask students to consider how we care for one another in times of crisis.
Strategy 4: Cultural Comparisons
There’s a Mayan Stela of a leader in our museum that the students always refer to using he/him pronouns before we reveal that the figure is a woman warrior. This piece makes for great conversation about the way gender comes into play in our associations with good leadership. For example, the first qualities that students name tend to be things like bravery and strength, which are often associated with masculinity. We not only point out that people of all genders might possess these qualities, but also discuss how socially feminized and overlooked qualities such as vulnerability or empathy are tremendous assets in leadership. Pushing beyond gender norms, the drawn and written reflective activities we do at this artwork create space for students to acknowledge the diverse leadership styles and qualities among their group.
Strategy 5: Centering Counterstories
Centering counterstories, stories that fall outside or challenge the mainstream narrative, can offer powerful teaching moments.
One of my favorites is telling stories about the Diné/Navajo rite of passage tradition of young women receiving a bill’éé (dress) when they are ready to assume their place as leaders. We discuss how Diné culture values women leaders. I tell them how colonizers prohibited the wearing of bill’éé, especially around the time of the Long Walk, yet the women resisted and kept their tradition alive to this day at celebrations like graduations and weddings, and I emphasize how strong and brave that is.
During one such conversation, a fifth grader raised her hand and said, “I can’t imagine what it would feel like if all women grew up thinking they could be powerful and be leaders. Or what the world would be like.” Another girl said, “Yeah, even for my mom.” I turned away to hide tears.
We question how ideas of leadership are both gendered and culturally specific, reclaiming space for a more broad conception of leadership in general. High school students have brought up other stories of fashion as resistance, from Beyonce’s Super Bowl performance, to pushing back on binary dress codes and gender norms, to the way Black women pushed back against tignon laws meant to police and cover their hair by transforming tignon into visually striking expressions of style, artistry, and resistance.
Strategy 6: Illuminating Visibility & Invisibility in the Collection
Comparing the museum collection to trends in the art historical canon regarding the stories and voices represented, underrepresented, or missing can be a productive place to celebrate inclusion in your institution’s collection as well as point to further systemic need for change.
In a contemporary gallery that houses paintings of both an interracial couple and a queer couple, I compared these to the couples depicted in the rest of the museum, the vast majority of whom are white and in heteronormative relationships. I ask high school students, “What is the impact of including and representing these couples only recently in the art historical canon?” I read the poem “Having a Coke with You” by Frank O’Hara aloud. The speaker asserts that being with his partner is more rewarding than any museum visit: “And what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them / when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank.” I looked up to find tearful smiles. Two students raised their hands to say what a surprise it was to see people like themselves represented and how moved they felt. Students discussed the power of reflecting the diverse museumgoers in our community. They reflected on moments that made them feel like their most authentic selves, or how they can make others feel freer to do that as well.
Strategy 7: Facilitating Student Empowerment
As much as we are the educators, I am so often struck by how much I learn from the students and how much further or deeper into topics we go because of the direction of the students’ discussion. During a camp, I witnessed a young boy get immediately excited when we walked into a gallery featuring Hindu art because he recognized a statue of one of his gods. He got up and I sat back as he proudly talked about his relationship to the statue of Shiva, telling the rest of the group about his religion. Another learner in the group had clearly never heard about Hinduism or the idea of there being multiple gods, but was curious and open to being taught. I could not have imagined this sort of mind-opening experience.
Finding Community
Those of you at large organizations likely have colleagues grappling with the same questions. Connecting with them and talking through challenges and solutions can help you feel less alone, less helpless. For those at small organizations, there are likely museum educators in your regions or at other organizations who are wondering what to do. Finding groups like the National Art Education Association (NAEA) Museum Education Division has also helped us find solutions and solace in knowing we are not alone in this difficult work.
For the most part, we have a collaborative community that has intentionally cultivated safe spaces for conversation about identity, inequity, and social justice that validates and affirms the voices and perspectives in the room. Many of us are fortunate to work on teaching teams in which multiple LGBTQ+ and BIPOC voices are represented, or are seeking to do better in terms of diversity, equity, and inclusion. Our co-writer Danielle writes:
For me as an LGBTQ+ educator, it’s been a salve to work alongside other queer people and not feel alone when navigating discussions about and challenges to teaching about gender and sexuality in K-12 museum education.
Positive Thinking and Remaining Hopeful
The difficulty in confronting the challenges that restrictive legislations present is that much of it is out of our control, and that can lead to feelings of hopelessness. This can be overwhelming and may cloud our ability to see beyond the current moment. Co-author Molly writes:
In a previous role, I managed a small team of museum educators. When we returned to work and began teaching onsite in 2021 many of us felt burnt out and overwhelmed with the onslaught of negative news and the challenges of a post-pandemic world. While there wasn’t one golden solution to this problem, one thing that did help was sharing something positive that occurred that day or week. We created a space within our office where we could each share something good that happened either professionally or personally using sticky notes. This simple exercise prompted smiles and laughs, something that had become harder to achieve during the early moments of the COVID-19 pandemic. When times are tough, much like they are right now, focusing on the positive moments can help us move forward.
Teaching isn’t just about the content that we teach or the activities we facilitate for our students. Teaching is showing up as we are, proud representatives of the communities we identify with, and most importantly, proudly ourselves. We can often forget the good we do when faced with the darkness of the world. It is easier to pick at our flaws or failings, wanting to always do better. There will always be adversity. That is the nature of progress itself. We will always have to push for more. More acceptance, more compassion, more truth. But reader, please know, that being here, being present, being mindful — all these qualities equate to you being a beacon for your students.
We encourage you to share your reflections in the comments below, or to reach out to us to join the conversation.
Footnotes:
- Horne, C. (2023, August 27). General Assembly overrides Gov. Cooper’s veto of S.B. 49, the Parents’ Bill of Rights. The Daily Tar Heel. https://www.dailytarheel.com/article/2023/08/city-north-carolina-general-assembly-parents-bill-of-rights-passed
- A. P. (2023, August 18). Georgia teacher fired for reading a book to students about gender identity. NBC News. https://www.nbcnews.com/nbc-out/out-news/georgia-teacher-fired-reading-gender-identity-book-class-rcna100598
Molly Phillips (she/her/hers) is a museum educator based in Charlotte, NC as the Assistant Director for Education at the Bechtler Museum of Modern Art. She develops and facilitates museum programs and gallery experiences that help all visitors connect with one another through art. Molly has worked at museums all over the United States and is committed to making art museums joyful and accessible for all. Connect with her here.
Candice Duncan-Baune (she/her/hers) is a museum educator based in Cleveland, Ohio working as a Gallery Teacher. She facilitates engaging, thought-provoking and interactive lessons around the museum with children from pre-K to 12th grade. She is driven to create life-changing experiences which merge culture and education with a goal to fuel curiosity in children and adults alike. Connect with her here.
Danielle Mužina (she/her/hers) is an artist and educator from Cleveland, Ohio. Her paintings explore place, identity, and crisis, inspired by her experiences as a queer woman and member of an immigrant family from Croatia. Whether teaching college studio art courses, DEI trainings, or K-12 museum education lessons, she uses art as a touchstone for listening to and amplifying multiply-situated, layered stories about identity and community that illuminate interconnectedness and collective responsibility. Connect with her here!
