ASSESSMENT IN DRAMA

THERAPY
(2012)

Edited by

D A V I D R E A D J O H N S O N , PH.D., R D T BCT

S U S A N A P E N D Z I K , PH.D., R D T

S T E P H E N S N O W , Ph.D., RDT-BCT

CHARLES C THOMAS • PUBLISHER, LTD.

Springfield • Illinois ‫ ״‬U.S.A.
 Chapter 9

THE 6 KEY MODEL-AN INTEGRATIVE

ASSESSMENT APPROACH
SUSANA PENDZIK

he practice of drama therapy is multifaceted and encompasses a wide

T variety of theoretical frameworks and techniques. Some practitioners use
role-playing and improvisation; others prefer texts, plays, or stories. The
approach may be personal and direct (as in playback theatre or psychodra-
ma) or more distant and indirect, using therapeutic cards, sculpting, puppets,
sand play, or other projective techniques. A number of working modalities
place the emphasis almost entirely on the creative process, whereas others
(such as performance-style interventions) shift the focus toward theatrical
forms and presentation. Bailey (2007) summarizes the possible working modes
used in drama therapy by placing them along two intersecting continuums:
One axis runs from process-oriented to presentational techniques; the other
from fiction to nonfiction. Bailey's (2007) model captures the broad spectrum
of approaches that can be used in this field. Diversity has always been a mark
of identity, as well as a source of strength, in the field of drama therapy, be-
cause it allows practitioners to accommodate their approach in order to serve
a wide range of populations and age groups.
The multiplicity of approaches within the field of drama therapy consti-
tutes a real challenge for assessment. With so many potential working modal-
ities, how can we assess drama therapy processes? What are the parameters
that guide practitioners in the task of diagnosing, assessing, and evaluating
progress? Can we assess divergent interventions with the same tools? For ex-
ample, is it possible to assess individual work with therapeutic cards by using
the same tools as a group's therapeutic theater performance uses?
Practitioners have traditionally taken various routes in order to sort out
this issue: Some have developed drama-based techniques that produce data,

197
198 Assessment in Drama Therapy

that are then assessed using psychological categories and concepts (Farmer,
1995;Johnson, 1988,Johnson & Miller, 2008; Lahad, 1992; Snow & D'Amico,
2009; Wiener, 1994, 2009). Others have created tools that assess particular
aspects of drama therapy practice, such as roles (Landy, 1996, 1997, 2009;
Moreno, 1964, 1987), or developmental engagement in dramatic play, such
as the EPR paradigm (Jennings, 1996, 1998, 2004). A few have created check-
lists or inventories based on dramatic development or involvement (Court-
ney, 1981; Jones, 1996), and of course, many others rely on a variety of as-
sessment tools borrowed from psychology, psychiatry, and other mental
health disciplines (Casson, 2004; Holmes, 1995; Lubin & Johnson, 2008).
The 6-Key Model is an attempt to handle the complex task of assessing
a multifaceted field by using a concept that is common to all drama therapy
practice: the notion of dramatic reality. As I have pointed out in previous arti-
cles (Pendzik, 2003; 2006), this concept weaves all forms of drama therapy
into a coherent whole, for, regardless of the modality or approach employed
by a given drama therapist, they all engage in some form of dramatic reali-
ty. In fact, the use of dramatic reality for therapeutic purposes can be con-
sidered as the unique contribution of drama therapy to the field of psycho-
therapy.
Dramatic reality is imagination manifested; it can be defined as "a cate-
gory of experience that is unique to dramatic interaction, which involves a
tangible entrance into an imaginary realm, engaging in make-believe play, in
as if behavior" (Pendzik, 2006, p. 271). Winnicott (1971) clarifies the differ-
ence between fantasy and imagination by pointing out that whereas "fanta-
sizing remains an isolated phenomenon, absorbing energy but not contrib-
uting either to dreaming or to living" (p. 36), the potential space— like dream-
ing—belongs to the healthy realm of imagination. Dramatic reality aligns with
the potential space because it involves the manifestation of imagination in
the here and now. Engaging in dramatic reality demands an active projection
of the imaginary world onto the real world. Essentially then, dramatic reali-
ty is a projected construct, and, as such, it can provide the therapist with
much information about a person's inner world, interpersonal relationships,
and ego functions.
The 6-Key Model is a qualitative assessment method based on the notion
of dramatic reality. As Figure 9.1 illustrates, drama therapy takes place at sev-
eral levels: (a) in the transition between realities, (b) within dramatic reality,
(c) outside of dramatic reality in the therapeutic setting, and (d) at a level that
has not yet become manifested in the other three levels—a metalevel that
includes (but is not limited to) transference and countertransference contents.
Psychotherapy (particularly dynamic-oriented approaches) functions primar-
ily through the therapeutic alliance, the verbal elaboration of contents in or-
 The 6-Key Model 199

Figure 9.1. Levels in which drama therapy takes place.

dinary reality, and the transference relationship, in other words, at levels c

and d. Hence, the assessment tools employed in psychotherapy naturally
tend to focus on these levels (Hinshelwood, 1991). In drama therapy, in con-
trast, the first two levels hold cardinal processes that are linked to dramatic
reality and therefore cannot be overlooked.
In order to use dramatic reality as an assessment tool, the 6-Key Model
divides the concept into six core aspects that pertain to dramatic reality and
its therapeutic use (see Figure 9.2). These are:

1. The passage between ordinary reality and dramatic reality

2. The quality and style of dramatic reality
3. The characters and roles that populate it
4. The plot, themes, conflicts, and other contents
5. The response to dramatic reality from the outside
6. Metareality—or the unmanifested subtext

Each of these areas is a key to the understanding of drama therapy

processes. The first five keys cover all the aspects associated with dramatic
reality and its relation to ordinary life; the sixth key provides the space for a
dimension that is usually subconscious and hidden. As Figure 9.3 shows, the
first two keys (passage and quality) refer more specifically to topics connect-
ed to form; the second two (characters/roles and themes/conflicts) deal
mainly with content-related material. The last two keys look at processes that
200 Assessment in Drama Therapy

3 r d k e y VJ

4th key.. J

5 * key

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6t h k e y

O Figure 9.2. The 6-Key Model with icons.

take p l a c e o u t s i d e o f d r a m a t i c reality. A l t h o u g h t h e n u m b e r i n g o f t h e keys

does n o t r e f l e c t a n o r d e r o f i m p o r t a n c e , because t h e first t w o keys are those
t h a t m a k e i t p o s s i b l e f o r d r a m a t i c r e a l i t y to exist, t h e y are p r i m a r y .
T h e 6 - K e y M o d e l c a n b e u s e d t o d i a g n o s e , assess, a n d evaluate d r a m a
t h e r a p y processes o f i n d i v i d u a l s o r g r o u p s . A s a q u a l i t a t i v e m e t h o d , the
m o d e l is b a s e d o n t h e s u b j e c t i v e o b s e r v a t i o n b y t h e d r a m a therapist. I n clin-
i c a l p r a c t i c e , t h e t h e r a p i s t s u m m a r i z e s a session (or n u m b e r o f sessions) b y

© ‫ י‬-
v
‫־‬Y
content outside
dramatic reality
Figure 9.3. The six keys.
 The 6-Key Model 201

taking notes of his or her impressions of the process, using the six keys as
anchor points. This survey allows the therapist to map an individual client or
group's situation concerning the drama therapy process. The survey can be
performed relatively quickly by writing key words or phrases on the 6-Key
Model working diagram. In general, not all the keys will be equally charged;
usually, one or two keys tend to hold the main share of the process. In this
way, the survey points at those keys from which interventions will be most
effective.

FIRST KEY: PASSAGES

The transition between ordinary and dramatic reality—like all passages—

is a sensitive process; it can reflect an individual's emotional condition, cog-
nitive abilities, developmental blockages, ego strengths and functions, and
interpersonal issues. People's capacity to enter (and exit) dramatic reality re-
veals aspects of their personality because the transit to and from it requires a
variety of psychological functions, including displaying good boundaries and
having a clear sense of self, and the ability to create a mental construct and
to project it onto real objects. Furthermore, recent research on trauma sug-
gests that a person's capacity to transcend into the imaginary realm is con-
gruent with a healthy coping mechanism that allows individuals to survive
trauma without developing symptoms of posttraumatic stress disorder (Kap-
lansky, 2009).
The first key deals with every aspect of the transition between ordinary
and dramatic reality. The types of questions that this key elicits are as fol-
lows:

1. How is the passage between realities performed (both in and out)?

2. Is there a clear boundary between the two realities?
3. Does the person or group have the ability to perform the transition
alone? Do they need assistance?
4. What kind of assistance?
5. What mode, artistic form, or aesthetic distance facilitates the passage?
202 Assessment in Drama Therapy

SECOND KEY: QUALITY

More than all the others, this key elicits aesthetic questions. As Huizanga
(1976) asserted in his classic work on the nature of play, people tend to de-
scribe play in aesthetic terms. This key includes two aspects. The first relates
to the question of how good enough is the quality of the dramatic reality ere-
ated by an individual or group. This is not about evaluating people's acting
skills; it is about assessing their ability to genuinely inhabit the imaginary
world they create. The basic premise operating here is that, in order to be ef-
fective, drama therapy requires a level of dramatic reality that might be called
good enough—to use Winnicott's terminology. In a previous article, I referred
to some indicators of what is good enough quality applied to dramatic reali-
ty (Pendzik, 2008a). Briefly stated, these qualities include fluidity and stabil-
ity, adequate involvement, aesthetic distance, communication, shared partic-
ipation, depth, and inner coherence.
Second, in addition to good enough quality, any form of dramatic reali-
ty has a particular mode of being that characterizes it—in other words, a style.
As mentioned previously, dramatic reality can take many forms from a pup-
pet show to a tag game, ritual, or scene enactment. Thus, the other aspect of
quality is connected to the particular style or mode that distinguishes the dra-
matic reality created by a person or group. The consideration of this aspect
is very significant in drama therapy because a change of style can be seen as
a sign of therapeutic progress or regression, and modifying the genre can be
used as a therapeutic intervention.

THIRD KEY: CHARACTERS AND ROLES

According to Lahad (2005), the establishment of fantastic reality is based

on the presence of three elements: time, space, and characters. The first two
 The 6-Key Model 203

are considered in the second key as aspects of the quality of dramatic reality
or in the fourth key as themes. The third key includes characters and roles,
which are the natural inhabitants of dramatic reality and responsible for its
functioning.
In the 6-Key Model, roles refer to the archetypal strata (Pendzik, 2003)
or to a function in the establishment of dramatic reality (Duggan & Grainger,
1997). As an example, king, mother, judge, angel, and president are consid-
ered roles. Likewise, actor, spectator, scriptwriter, and director are also roles—
in the sense of fulfilling a function. In contrast, characters are embodied
roles, in other words, roles that have been taken on by a particular individ-
ual. For instance, the name "President Obama" illustrates these levels: Obama
is the character; president is the role. Generally, characters have a more dy-
namic, fluid structure; they can play many roles and hence are more akin to
the human personality. They may be said to possess humanesque features
(Reilly-McVittie & Liu, 2005). Roles, on the other hand, may be classified, as
Landy (1993) has done, because they are more structured. No inventory can
be made of characters.
The third key looks into the category of roles and characters. It takes into
consideration the dynamics of a person's role-system (Landy, 1993), role-
repertoire, role-analysis (Blatner, 2000; Johnson & Miller, 2008), role devel-
opment (Moreno, 1987), and the interaction between roles and characters.
This key intersects with all the other role/character assessment methods that
can be used in order to guide the therapist's observations. Here is an illus-
trative sample of the kinds of questions it may elicit:

1. Who inhabits dramatic reality? (list characters and roles)

2. How are characters/roles connected and integrated?
3. Do the characters represent a variety of roles, or are they all connect-
ed to the same archetypal role?
4. Does the interplay between roles and characters say something about
the person's overall role-system?
5. What functional roles (director, audience, performer) does the client
play or not play?
6. Do the characters/roles become manifest in dramatic reality, or are
there some that are difficult for the client to bring into dramatic reali-
ty?
204 Assessment in Drama Therapy

FOURTH KEY: CONTENT-PLOT, THEMES, AiVD CONFLICTS

This key is concerned with the contents of dramatic reality (other than
characters and roles, which in drama therapy constitute categories of their
own). The contents may include plot, themes, conflicts, symbols, images, feel-
ings, complexes, or obsessions. Dramatic reality is a projected construct, an
imago mundioi the person's inner world; therefore, the conflicts, patterns, and
motifs that appear in it tend to express core issues and mechanisms in the
person's psyche.
Assessment in this key is concerned with making sense of the contents
within a theoretical framework. Because this key intersects with other psy-
chotherapy approaches, the analysis and interpretation of the contents is ac-
complished according to the particular orientation that the drama therapist
holds. I offer the following questions as an illustration that reflects my own
orientation (mainly narrative and feminist therapies):

1. What happens in dramatic reality? What is the plot about?

2. How does it unfold?
3. What are the themes or issues that are enacted?
4. What are the main conflicts?
5. What are the main symbols and metaphors?
6. Are there any recurrent patterns, in terms of plot or conflicts?
7. Is the plot advancing? Is it stuck? What needs to happen in this story
in order for it to advance?
8. Are there alternative stories behind the dominant story? What are
they?

FIFTH KEY: RESPONSE TO DRAMATIC REALITY

To engage in dramatic reality entails participating in an experience that

occurs in a different context than in ordinary life. This key is concerned with
the processing and evaluation of this experience upon return to normal real-
 The 6-Key Model 205

ity. Because dramatic reality is not objectively real, the value attributed by
individuals to what was performed in it may reflect their general patterns of
judgment. This is the seat of the "critic5' or "inner judge" side of the person-
ality-because people's responses to their experience in dramatic reality often
tend to replicate their attitude toward themselves and their accomplishments
in the real world (Johnson, 1981).
The fifth key helps to assess three main areas: First, it gives an indication
of the person's ability to process and integrate subjective experiences. Second,
it provides information about people's sense of self-esteem and self-worth.
Third, it reflects a person's capacity to benefit from the therapeutic premises
espoused by drama therapy, in the sense of evaluating the significance that
the work performed in dramatic reality has upon the individual's life:

1. How does the person regard what was done in dramatic reality? What
is his or her overall attitude toward it?
2. Does she or he consider it a significant experience?
3. Does she or he value it? Does she or he play it down?
4. What does the response indicate about the person's patterns of judg-
ment?
5. Does the work performed in dramatic reality have an impact in actu-
al life?

SIXTH KEY: METAREALITY-THE UNMANIFESTED SUBTEXT

Drama therapy offers two possible channels through which difficult, sub-
textual, or unconscious contents can be explored and elaborated: the normal
reality of the therapeutic setting on the one hand and the nonordinary actu-
ality of dramatic reality on the other. Occasionally, however, a subtle and in-
definable subtext develops that does not find an appropriate outlet to express
itself, thus evolving into a metareality level that influences the therapeutic
milieu.
The sixth key is the home of elusive contents: It holds transference and
countertransference processes, hidden or unavowed issues or conflicts, un-
spoken influences from the outside world, such as political events, social ten-
sions, or even climate or health-related concerns (e.g., hurricanes, pandem-
ics). If these contents are not addressed or expressed at the levels of either
206 Assessment in Drama Therapy

ordinary or dramatic reality, they may occasionally accumulate, forming a

cloud that surrounds the therapeutic process.
I must point out that this key is not necessarily active in drama therapy.
In contrast to psychodynamic-oriented approaches—in which the transfer-
ence relationship constitutes the main therapeutic tool for intervention—in
drama therapy, dramatic reality offers a setting in which these concealed as-
pects can be brought safely into the light (Jennings, 1996). Because this key
is not indispensable in drama therapy, it is not always activated (and the
drama therapist is not called to activate it). When it is at work, however, it
usually interferes with the functioning of all the other keys, thus requiring
close attention.

1. Are there any intuitions, hunches, unexplainable feelings or intangible

thoughts surrounding the therapeutic process?
2. What are they? (list)
3. Where do they come from?
4. Are there any transferential contents involved?
5. Are there any issues for the therapist to examine? (e.g., countertrans-
ference)

CASE STUDY-FOUR SESSIONS WITH SIMON

First Session
Simon (not his real name), a man in his twenties, was referred to me by
a common acquaintance. He had never been in therapy before. He looked
for help following his younger brother's death in the last Lebanon war. The
idea "to have someone to talk to" was already in his mind long before that,
however. He did not know that I was a drama therapist, nor had any idea of
what that was; he just followed the recommendation. He seemed to be a
friendly and perceptive man, with a bit of a "beatnik look"; yet underneath
the cool and unruffled attitude, there was a strong sense of tension.
Simon worked in theater production, and although he envied the actors'
audacity to reveal themselves on stage, he believed he was unable to act. He
said he would love to try, particularly to play certain roles, but was scared to
play others, mostly those in which people might laugh at him. When I ex-
plained drama therapy, he laughed nervously. He said he was willing to give
it a shot but added, "Frankly, I didn't have in mind to come to therapy to
play on stage, but rather to talk and to listen." We agreed to have a trial peri-
od of four sessions.
 The 6-Key Model 207

Simon pointed out several reasons for coming to therapy: One was his
difficulty in making up his mind about what to do with his life. He was inca-
pable of making long-term commitments and had the feeling that his life was
passing by while he was not doing anything with it. He had many plans but
often sabotaged everything he started. This was particularly evident in rela-
tion to academic studies. He tended to talk himself out of any program as
soon as he was accepted into one. He carried a lot of anger toward his par-
ents (with whom he was currently living). He was particularly angry at his
father (who had been a political activist) for not "preparing him for this life."
Instead of giving him a proper childhood by taking him to the movies, art
classes, or concerts, his father was absorbed in the country's political strug-
gle to the point that, even as a child, Simon was drawn into political activism.
He was currently involved with a girlfriend in what he defined as a very good
relationship, but he was afraid it would not last, either because he would
leave or because his girlfriend (whom he defined as much more stable and
goal-oriented than he was) would run out of patience with his hesitations.
Perhaps because the person who referred him mentioned his creative
potential, because he was connected to the theater, or even because of his
"artist's look," I immediately assumed that it would be relatively easy to find
a creative outlet for our work. I asked him a question that I usually pose in
the first session: "If your life were a book or a movie, what kind of book or
movie would it be? What would it be about?" Simon smiled at the question
and liked the idea of comparing his life to a book, but as we began to elabo-
rate on it, he seemed unable to use his imagination. I asked him some lead-
ing questions in order to create a sense of aesthetic distance, but he did not
play along. He quickly returned to speaking plainly about his life. In an at-
tempt to help him take off into dramatic reality, I handed him a paper and
asked him to write the title of the book, a short description of its contents as
it might appear on its back cover, and a few sentences about the main char-
acter. He wrote the following:

The l i f e and l i f e of Simon Segal

This story is not a classic, unbroken, whole, story. It's a story that moves along
25 years; it is composed of dozens of little stories, thousands of little stories,
which form one story. This is neither an optimistic nor a pessimistic story; nei-
ther a tragedy nor a comedy. This is a story with many faces, and that's how it
will be identified: Simply.
About the protagonist: In the eyes of the world he is a hero; in his own eyes, it
depends when . . .
208 Assessment in Drama Therapy

Simon was quite engaged while writing: he seemed to take pleasure in it.
Yet he finished the task rather quickly and did not edit the text or read it
again before handing it to me. It was nearly hopeless to try to talk with him
about the text or about his experience of writing it. Although he seemed to
enjoy it, he moved immediately out of the experience, going back to talking
plainly about his life. It appeared that he had another agenda on his mind.
As the session came to an end, I invited him to write for the next session one
of the "little stories" that were mentioned in the book, perhaps about one of
the secondary characters. He said he would try. The session ended with a
hopeful feeling.

Assessment of the First Session

Assessing with the 6-Key Model entails a review of each key according to
the therapist's subjective impressions and observations. The picture that
emerges from this review usually provides a clue for further assessment and
more effective interventions. The 6-Key working diagram may help to con-
dense the main points. Figure 9.4 summarizes my assessment of the first ses-
sion with Simon using the 6-Key working diagram, which I will now elaborate:

Figure 9.4. First session with Simon

 The 6-Key Model 209

Both entering and inhabiting dramatic reality (first and second keys)
were not an easy task for Simon. What he said about "envying the actors"
was confirmed by his difficulty to engage in the as if dimension when asked
to imagine his life as a book. With some structure (writing tasks), he managed
to cross the threshold into dramatic reality for a short time. Speaking in terms
ofJennings' (1998, 1999) EPR paradigm and ritual/risk evaluation, I think it
was appropriate to use projection with him because either embodiment or
role would have been taking too much of a risk. Although Simon seemed to
enjoy the writing exercise, he left dramatic reality very quickly (in fact, as
soon as he could), thus revealing that it was hard for him not only to enter
but also to stay in that realm (second key).
In terms of the quality, I cannot say that dramatic reality was really good
enough because his stay there was rather short. I chose writing as the mode
of projection because Simon seemed to be very much into expressing him-
self verbally. As White and Epston (1990) point out, however, spoken and
written words differ in Western culture. I resorted to the written language as
an alienation effect in an attempt to create a measure of aesthetic distance.
The text itself offers an input into the style: It is rather detached and elusive,
broken and ambivalent, too vague and general ("neither comedy nor trag-
edy"). There is a sense of aloofness in the narrative: The actual details of the
story are omitted. We only know that there are many stories but have no clue
as to their content (overdistance). Yet the name of the protagonist is the same
as that of the author (underdistance).
The third key included several significant figures: Simon's father, girl-
friend, and deceased brother. None of them surfaces in the book's summary,
however, in which besides Simon Segal himself, only "the world" and "many
faces" appear as others. Likewise, the fourth key is filled with core themes and
conflicts that become an inventory of the issues that Simon wanted to bring
into therapy. These issues do not emerge in the imagined book. They remain
hidden somewhere under the title of the "thousands of little stories." The
book's main story is quite unclear and fractured. It is made of bits and pieces,
with no apparent direction or plot. This may parallel Simon's feeling that "life
passes by." In dramatic reality (in the book), however, the main character is
not concerned with the need for a plot at all. In fact, the lack of a coherent
plot is defined as identity: "That's how it should be recognized. Simply."
The fifth key (response) reiterates Simon's ambivalence about engaging
in drama therapy, as opposed to "have someone to talk to and to listen to."
He did not relate to his writing (did not even take it with him at the end of
the session). The significance of the experience is minimized. Instead, he
attached much more importance to the things he talked about. The sixth key
is not active at this point.
210 Assessment in Drama Therapy

The review of the keys shows that one of the main therapeutic goals in
Simon's case will be to help him develop the capacity to enter dramatic real-
ity and stay within it. He expressed this wish when speaking about the "au-
dacity of the actors." His difficulty with keys one and two parallels his inabil-
ity to commit, to take action and gear his life toward something, to author his
life and create a plot for himself, rather than letting it pass by (talk about it).
In order to work on these aspects, I saw the need to find ways that would
facilitate Simon's transition into dramatic reality. As mentioned before, I
thought the use of projection could provide him with perspective, as well as
with a sense of control, and aesthetic distance. Although the fourth key was
filled with contents, it was not the appropriate key for intervention, because
in order for the contents to be explored in drama therapy, it is imperative
that a good enough dramatic reality be generated. Clearly, Simon may feel
more comfortable talking about the issues than exploring them using drama
therapy tools. I sensed, however, that talking plainly about the contents as in
verbal therapy would be akin to colluding with his fears. Moreover, it would
not really allow him to experience what drama therapy is within the four-
meeting framework that we had set for ourselves.

Second Session
In the second session, Simon brought up a crisis that had occurred in his
couple relationship during the week. He had felt a sudden urge to leave the
country and travel around the world and told his girlfriend that he "must
take off from here." Because they were planning to live together, this came
as quite a shock to her (although it was not the first time). Simon felt that he
had "missed many experiences in life" and that there were things he wanted
to do before settling down. He said his life could go in so many different di-
rections that he didn't know which way he wanted to go. He brought up the
image of a "war inside himself" between a side that wants to take off, go
around the world, and could even do extreme things (such as drug-dealing)
and another side that wants to settle down with his girlfriend, study, and have
children. I invited him to imagine that he holds each side in one of his hands.
He put "staying and having a relationship" on his right hand and called the
left hand "Simon himself." I wanted to explore this theme more deeply, but
he discarded his own image of the inner war in favor of a crossroad meta-
phor.
I invited him to create an image of the crossroad as installation art, using
all the objects available in the room. The crossroad soon became a traffic cir-
cle, with many possibilities represented by cushions or other props. Some of
the options were studying arts, studying psychology, working in a simple and
unchallenging job in order to have time for other things, having a family with
 The 6-Key Model 211

his girlfriend, and "Simon himself" (traveling around, doing whatever is on

his mind at the moment). While creating the installation, he spoke to me,
explaining what he was doing. He did not seem to put too much thought into
the objects he chose: he just picked them up more as signs than as symbols.
In fact, he did not seem to be inside dramatic reality but rather on the periph-
ery, talking about his actions.
When he finished, I asked him to stand outside the installation space and
to observe it from a distance. This perspective was helpful for him. As we were
observing the image from afar, I suggested that we also take the perspective
of time: I asked Simon if he could imagine being an old man—the Old Wise
Man he would like to be one day. He only said a few sentences, and I did
not press for more. Although playing characters was not natural for Simon,
for a moment, the spirit of the Old Wise Man became present in the room.
We then sat down to process what we had done. I gave him feedback
about the Old Wise Man he played and spoke about the character as an
inner aspect of the personality. Towards the end of the session, I suddenly
recalled the following story and felt the need to tell it to him as a dramatic res-
onance (Pendzik, 2008b):

Once upon a time, high in the Himalayas, there lived an Old Wise Man. Al-
though he lived alone, in a retired place, every now and then, he went down
into the village for food and other necessities. Since he was gifted with psy-
chic talents, he used to entertain people by reading their thoughts, telling the
dreams they had, or just guessing the contents of their pockets.

A young boy did not believe he had such powers and decided to play a trick
on the Old Wise Man. He came up with an idea: He would catch a bird and
hide it in his hands. Then, he would go to the Old Man and ask him if he
can guess what he is holding in his closed hands. As he knew that the Old
Man would guess correctly that it was a bird, he planned to ask him whether
the bird was dead or alive. If the Old Wise Man would say the bird was
dead, the boy would open his hands and let the bird fly away. If the Old
Man would say the bird was alive, then he would squeeze the bird to death
before opening his hands. One way or another, he would humiliate the Old
Wise Man.

The next time the Old Wise Man came into the village, the boy quickly
caught a bird and presented his closed hands before him. He asked, "Old
Man, Old Man, what am I holding in my hands?" The Old Wise Man said,
"I think you have a bird, dear boy." And the boy said, "Yes, Old Man, it is
a bird, but can you say whether the bird is alive or dead? The Old Wise
Man looked at the boy and replied: "It's in your hands dear boy, it's in your
hands, and so it is with your life."
212 Assessment in Drama Therapy

Although I'm not an accomplished storyteller, there was a magic mo-

ment in this storytelling experience. Simon was completely wrapped up in
the story: His eyes were shining. When I finished he said, "Wow . . . ! You
have no idea how right this story is for me!" This brought the session to an
end.

Assessment of the Second Session

The second session is summarized in Figure 9.5. Entrance into dramatic
reality was attempted through the physicalization of images: The "inner war"
image was attempted first, via the hands exercise, then, the "traffic circle"
image through the installation exercise. The hands exercise was not such an
effective passage into dramatic reality for Simon, as the use of his own hands
was perhaps too close. The installation exercise worked better and was also
an opportunity to help Simon to familiarize himself with the whole room, not
just with the corner where he had been sitting. However, in terms of the sec-
ond key, the quality of dramatic reality was weak: The objects were not in-
vested; Simon merely explained his actions and stayed at the periphery of
dramatic reality. The presentation was quite allegorical. A change in quality
occurred when we moved away from the image: Physical distance created
aesthetic distance. Contemplating the installation from afar made a differ-
ence in the quality of dramatic reality. Its texture became more solid, to the
point that I was able to invite - or invoke, as Landy (2009) puts it-the char-
acter of Old Wise Man (third key). Although his presence was brief, it was
significant. Dramatic reality was suddenly populated by a character other
than Simon. Inspired by it, I was reminded of the folk story of the Old Wise
Man. The storytelling part of the session was emotionally engaging for
Simon; it had the best quality of dramatic reality we had so far.
The fourth key included several themes that Simon wanted to bring into
therapy: commitments, relationship, and direction in life. In contrast to the
first session, however, this time, they were brought into dramatic reality. The
traffic circle image was illuminating in terms of holding Simon's general feel-
ing of lack of direction in life and letting opportunities pass by. Nevertheless,
the image was allegorical. Although not devoid of feelings, the experience
was more rational than emotional.
The fifth key was addressed after I finished telling the story by Simon's
pointing out that there was something very meaningful for him in it. As men-
tioned earlier, Simon's attention was fully absorbed by the story, and I felt
that for a moment we inhabited that island of imagination called dramatic
reality. As Gersie and King (1990) point out, "stories are gate keepers be-
tween our inner and outer worlds" (p. 35), and listening to a story nourishes
the imagination in such a way that a space of images is created between lis-
 The 6-Key Model 213

Figure 9.5. Second session with Simon.

tener and teller. Yet, on the sixth key category, the fact that it was my reso-
nance, my telling of the story, made me wonder whether Simon's absorbed
listening was really an entrance into dramatic reality for him or just what he
said about therapy in the first session: an exercise in talking and listening.

Third Session
Simon reported that he had a good conversation with his girlfriend after
our session and that things had calmed down on that front. He had been
working very hard and was praised for his capacity by his coworkers, but get-
ting this positive feedback did not make him feel anything: In fact, he was
ready to leave his job. This attitude of walking away from things that were
working well was known to him from the past. I asked him about himself as
a child. Simon had a complex childhood. He had concentration and behav-
ioral problems (probably undiagnosed attention-deficit/hyperactivity disor-
der), and he tended to react with violence, and was suspended from school
many times. He developed a tough facade, and got easily involved in fights
and even in some illegal activities with a gang of pals. He spoke about all this
in a matter-of-fact tone, without perspective or regret. As he moved from one
anecdote to another, I asked Simon to give me a three-word description of
214 Assessment in Drama Therapy

himself as a child. He said, "Courageous, mischievous (bordering on neurot-

ic), and cool." He said with pride that most teachers told him "you have a lot
of potential, but you need to concretize it" and added that he loved to hear
that from them—year after year.
Looking for some way to bring these contents into dramatic reality, I
decided to do a psychodramatic vignette, and I placed two empty chairs in
the acting area. I asked Simon to choose one to sit in as himself now and to
visualize "the child that he was" sitting on the other. I encouraged Simon to
imagine that a dialogue was taking place between them, and to say some-
thing that he knew this child needed to hear. He said that if he met the child,
he would not say anything, he would just talk to him in his heart. I suggest-
ed that this can be a good place to say what is in his heart, to talk his heart
out, but he could not do it. I explained to him the function of the double in
psychodrama, and from that place, I said a few sentences, that I requested
from Simon to own, rephrase, correct, or reject. The main thing he took from
what I said was the teachers' recurrent phrase about his unrealized potential.
He warned the child of the danger of this pronouncement, because it had
actually become a self-defeating strategy that ruled his life. Just knowing that
he had this potential was not going to help him materialize it. Another real-
ization that Simon had through this dialogue was that it was very difficult for
him to see the child that he was as different from himself today. He had never
before taken perspective on his childhood. I felt that role-reversing Simon
with the child would be pushing too much for this session.
As we processed the experience in dramatic reality, Simon spoke about
the thoughts he had about becoming a father and said that, in contrast to his
own father, he wanted to "give his child a proper childhood, plenty of expe-
riences, creativity, and stuff like that." I took advantage of the split he made
between his child and himself as a child in order to say that the child he was
deserved the same things he is willing to give to his own potential child. I
used an analogy between therapy and Spielberg's movie Back to the Future,
where the protagonist has to go back to his past in order to change his own
present. Simon commented that what he presented in this session "was the
brighter side of his childhood" and added that "we haven't even begun to
deal with it, as we only touched my experience in school: we didn't talk
about home. . . ." The session ended with a vague promise to visit that part
of his life in the next session.

Assessment of the Third Session

The third session is summarized in Figure 9.6. After quite a long talk
about Simon's childhood, I attempted to bring the dialogue into dramatic
 The 6-Key Model 215

Figure 9.6. Third session with Simon.

reality through the empty chair vignette. In retrospect, I realize that this was
an abrupt entrance. I think I was reacting to the violence of the experiences
he referred to, paired with the overdistanced tone of his narration. Simon
was telling the story with no perspective of time at all, as if he was retelling
the account from the facade of the adolescent in the gang. I invited this fig-
ure into dramatic reality, so that it could be explored, questioned, listened to,
and, ultimately, taken care of. I wanted to bridge the gap of detachment
through a direct encounter between these two sides of him. Yet a dramatic
reality of this intensity was difficult for Simon to hold: It had the quality of a
shock. On the one hand, Simon saw the child he was for the first time as a
separate entity from the adult he was in the present. On the other hand, this
discovery rendered him speechless. The power of dramatic reality became
clear to Simon when I suggested that whatever he said with his heart can be
given words—that here his heart can speak. Operating at this level was very
new and probably even frightening for him.
My intervention from the role of the psychodramatic double helped to
bridge the communication gap between these two parts of him, and with this
came Simon's realization that he was still caught up in the teachers' line,
which had become a sort of self-fulfilling prophesy for him. Content with
216 Assessment in Drama Therapy

hearing that he has the potential (getting accepted into a studies program, for
example), he failed to succeed in actualizing it (by staying in the program).
This kept him away from real success and true commitments in life.
The third key was very charged in this session, because dramatic reality
was handled mainly at the level of roles and characters. Even on our way back
from dramatic reality, during the processing phase, the central aspects of our
talk were connected to Simon in the role of father (as opposed to his own
father) and with himself as a child. The issues for which he came into thera-
py had found their way into dramatic reality through the key of roles and
characters. Yet, his comment that "we haven't even begun to deal with my
childhood," was a clear message from the fifth key (response), implying that
there is more in the fourth key (the darker side of childhood) than roles and
characters. At this point, I also sensed that the sixth key was getting charged
with fear: on his side from the shock of experiencing dramatic reality in full
volume and on mine from getting a sense of his traumatized childhood, be-
cause I was also being warned that this was nothing compared to what will
be coming up next.

Fourth Session
I opened the session by reminding Simon that this was the last meeting
of our trial period series. We talked about the process so far, and Simon said
that the work with me felt good-although acting was still not easy for him.
He made a decision to continue with the therapy for the time being, in spite
of the fact that there was a possibility that he would be moving to another
city, because he had applied to a college.
In this session Simon brought up the violence of his father, mainly phys-
ical violence towards the children but also emotional violence towards the
mother. "It was like walking on eggshells all the time," he said, "you never
knew when you did something wrong, and the main thing that we could do
was to get out of his way, to disappear, to be as unnoticed as possible." In
contrast to his younger brother, who was well-liked and extremely success-
ful in school ("the family's hope"), Simon usually got himself into trouble at
school. He was not a good pupil and had behavioral problems that intensi-
fied as he grew older. Thus, his parents were often summoned by the school's
principal, and for this reason Simon was the target of his father's pent-up
anger and violence. He was full of memories of being hit by his father. Dur-
ing his adolescence he began to fight him back, which meant that they were
both involved in physical violence toward each other.
Simon's account of the relationship with his father was lively and fluid. I
had the impression that he had told these stories many times, because they
 The 6-Key Model 217

had the quality of a rehearsed piece. They seemed like an authorized, official
version of his relationship with his father-one that he had been telling both
to himself and to others. After hearing an assortment of stories, I asked
Simon to recall three moments that stand out for him, three pictures of his
relationship with his father at different stages of his life. To my surprise, the
pictures were not the same ones as the stories he had just referred to. He
brought up the following:

1. A memory from when he was young: taking his father's hand as they
walked together to the synagogue on a Saturday morning. In this pic-
ture the father appears as a nice fellow.
2. He is curled up, hiding in a corner of the house, feeling terrified by his
father's rage towards him.
3. A feeling of relationship as he grew older: Living in the same house,
each one doing his thing, minding his own business, just avoiding, and
taking distance from each other—a hostile silence.

The images were actualized as still pictures, with both of us alternating

between embodying the roles of Simon and his father. At various stages, I
asked Simon to say a word or a sentence from each position in the picture.
It was difficult for him to say something from his father's role, and although
he did utter some words or sentences, in general, the verbal part of the exer-
cise was a bit redundant. Most of the affect was in the recalling of the mo-
ments and in the creation of the pictures.
In the processing phase, Simon brought up his difficulty in confronting
his father. Although he had in fact recently challenged him regarding a situ-
ation that occurred at a family gathering, the fact that his father had changed
so drastically since his brother's death (he was depressed and "not quite him-
self anymore"), made it very hard for Simon to confront him. I pointed out
that this was the first time I heard him expressing positive feelings towards
his father (first picture), to which Simon replied in a very emotional tone:
"Well of course I love him!"
I talked about the "inner father" and the actual father and clarified the
difference between the two, particularly in terms of what we can work on in
therapy. At the closure of the session I suggested to Simon to take a look at
Kafka's Letter to His Father (which had a couple of images that resonated with
Simon's description of his own father) and encouraged him to write a letter
expressing his feelings but that was not intended to be delivered to his actu-
al father.
218 Assessment in Drama Therapy

Figure 9.7. Fourth session with Simon

Assessment of the Fourth Session

The fourth session is summarized in Figure 9.7. Simon's decision to stay
in therapy may be seen as a statement from the fifth key (response). He open-
ly expressed his difficulty with the "acting bit," but coupled it with his over-
all satisfied feeling about the therapy. This voiced the ambivalence that was
apparent throughout the sessions regarding our work in dramatic reality and
cleared up a potential activation of the sixth key.
My request to focus the narrative of the relationship with his father around
three main pictures facilitated Simon's movement from everyday talk into
dramatic reality (first key). Furthermore, the breaking down of a story he had
been telling himself for years and its rearrangement in a new aesthetic for-
mat (three pictures) constituted an intervention in the quality (second) key.
The tone of his voice and the discourse became deeper, more emotionally
engaged, as silence and body images took the place of words.
The aesthetic distance achieved at the quality level influenced both the
third and the fourth keys. Simon was able to experience his father as includ-
ing a positive aspect (the nice fellow of his early childhood) and to express
love towards him, not only disappointment and anger. Moreover, perhaps
Simon's articulation of his ambivalence toward acting, which took place at
 The 6-Key Model 219

the beginning of the session (fifth key), found its way into dramatic reality,
thus allowing for further processing of the ambivalence not only toward dra-
ma therapy, but also toward his father.

Follow Up
In the sessions that followed, Simon allowed himself to do some power-
ful work around the death of his brother. The therapeutic process was inter-
rupted shortly afterward, however: he finally did leave town. Although leav-
ing his parents' home, moving in with his girlfriend, and deciding to go back
to school were extremely positive steps for Simon, it was clear that therapy
was not over, and we both agreed that he would probably need further help
in the future. We summarized our work together in a positive light and spoke
about the challenges that awaited him. Nevertheless, when I offered to refer
him to a colleague, Simon said he would seek out a verbal psychotherapist.
I believe that his experience in drama therapy was powerful (albeit chal-
lenging), and that he was harboring the hope that perhaps verbal psycho-
therapy would be less demanding. Nevertheless, some years later, when I
contacted Simon to get his consent for writing about him in this chapter, he
told me he was studying to become a professional actor.

Concluding Thoughts on Simon

Through the lenses of the 6-Key Model it is possible to observe that the
locus of Simon's difficulties was centered particularly on the first, second,
and fifth keys. Simon's lack of ability to play (i.e. to construct a dramatic real-
ity) may be related to the fact that he did not have a healthy childhood.
Inhabiting the dramatic world is the prerogative of children, but for Simon,
the place of play in childhood was substituted by hard core political activism.
Thus, playing as an activity in and of itself was diminished or devoid of
meaning (fifth key). Although he envied the actors' courage and was deter-
mined to be a playful father to a future child, he was both scared and skep-
tical of the therapeutic potential of dramatic reality. Simon's sense that he
had missed out on experiences in life was probably related to this gap in his
life experience. In the absence of a good enough level of dramatic reality, he
expressed the world of imagination only through speaking or the opposite,
by acting out and surrendering to impulsive actions, such as leaving the cou-
pie relationship.
As Winnicott (1971) claims, therapy requires an ability to play, and where
playing is not possible, therapists should focus their efforts towards bringing
the person "from a state of not being able to play into a state of being able
to play" (p. 51). Hence, looking for ways to repair the first and second keys
220 Assessment in Drama Therapy

was one of the main therapeutic aims of the drama therapy process. I gave a
lot of thought to the medium, style, format, and genre that could smooth the
progress of creating and maintaining dramatic reality. The techniques I used
(writing, storytelling, props, and sculpting) were chosen according to my ob-
servations of Simon's abilities in the first and second keys, and taking into
account various drama therapy models.
Even if brief and fragile, in those moments when playing was possible,
Simon also accomplished much in the third and fourth keys (the content
keys). He was able to invoke the Old Wise Man (which paved the way for
the reevaluation of his own father) and, to an extent, revise his self-image by
deconstructing the role of the intangible hero of the first story into someone
with an inner cast of characters that play various parts in his role-system. Old
and official versions of himself were challenged (like "the child that he was"),
and rigid contradictions became more flexible.
In terms of the insights and the experience achieved, every visit to the
dramatic realm was powerful for Simon, yet the fifth key remained knotty
and charged throughout the process. A deep-rooted judgmental critic had
established his headquarters in this key. Neither a child nor an actor, Simon
found it quite hard to legitimize his experience in dramatic reality. His com-
ment in our closing session about trying verbal psychotherapy reflects this
mood. In spite of this, my impression was that the drama therapy process
had registered firmly in the backstage of his mind.

CONCLUSION

Dramatic reality is the measure of all drama therapy processes. As illus-

trated by the case of Simon, the 6-Key Model can help the drama therapist
map the therapeutic process by monitoring all the aspects pertaining to dra-
matic reality and, in this way, provide a clear picture of what needs to be
done in the form of interventions. The model intersects with other drama
therapy methodologies, thus presenting an integrative drama-therapy-based
assessment method.

AUTHOR CONTACT INFORMATION

Susana Pendzik—pend@netvision.net.il
 The 6-Key Model 221

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