A Padlock on a Ruin?

The teaching and training of the Alexander Technique was institutionalised soon after the founder’s death by a particular group of his students (see The First Training Course in 1931: a different perspective), who went on to form STAT. Some of their students later began to teach and train teachers in other countries, leading to new national societies being formed and eventually to what we now know as the Affiliated Societies.

These Affiliated Societies have continued to follow (more or less) agreed common standards of training, based on STAT’s model, trying to maintain “the purity of the teaching” – as they saw it. Within these societies there has been a great deal of in-fighting about so-called “styles”.

Meanwhile over the last 60 years, whilst we have been stuck in our approach to mind-body work, with our outdated vocabulary and rigid training structures, the world has moved on. New disciplines have arisen and ancient teachings have been brought to the West. Now Feldenkrais, Pilates, various somatic practices and the myriad eastern teachings such as Yoga, Tai Chi, Qigong and Mindfulness – a repackaged version of Buddhist meditation – complete with their own philosophies – have successfully established themselves in the marketplace, primarily by being accessible.

Disciplines that don’t adapt and develop are at risk of fossilising. Look at what happened to psychoanalysis.

“…psychoanalytic institutions, by and large, have not been set up to adapt and change. On the contrary, they are largely closed systems, focused inwardly on maintaining standards, conveying established theories and practices, and thus duplicating themselves. In a period of expansion, they are able to become more exclusive. The hierarchy that ensures control has an easier time recruiting enthusiastic acolytes, maintaining conformity, and guaranteeing its own power.”[i]

As a consequence of the rigidity of the hierarchy, psychoanalysis has largely been replaced by psychotherapy which was more accessible to those who wished to train. Was this a good thing? I’m not qualified to judge. But it is a reality that should be an indicator to us of what can happen when you don’t adapt.

And how are we adapting to the realities of a rapidly changing world? In short, we aren’t! As more and more AT schools close and less people are training – just as significantly from a narrower demographic – the Affiliated Societies seem incapable of addressing critical issues related to the training and qualification of teachers. Have they become too rigid?

Then some details of what the discussion is about.

The case for more flexibility in training timetables is that it would attract a wider demographic of people who are currently unable or unwilling to train under our current rules. This in turn would help develop interest in Alexander’s ideas, as these people from the wider demographic begin to teach others from the same professions, background or special interest groups as themselves (as is currently the case, for example, with musicians).

The case against is that the need for regular and consistent work, with a minimum and maximum number of hours over at least four days a week, is essential, otherwise the student will not be able to assimilate the work, the teaching will not be embodied and the standard of teaching will consequently deteriorate.

Other models, such as the one adopted by the Feldenkrais Training Accreditation Boards [ii], have not been considered. Why not? Do we know for a fact that such approaches would not work? No we don’t because they have never been tried – not anyway within the Affiliated Societies.

I find both points of view have merit, though there is no real evidence for either. For sure it is incumbent on our generation, as the custodians of Alexander’s legacy, to do our best to ensure that we maintain a high standard of training; it is also our responsibility to not regulate ourselves out of existence through an inability to adapt to the socio-economic realities of the 21st century, particularly if that inability is based on prejudice and idées reçues about training which have never been put to the test.

Is it really the case that there is only one means-whereby we can achieve the end of satisfactorily training teachers? It has been argued that anything other than the known pattern of training might produce sub-standard teachers. What is meant by “sub-standard”?  We don’t actually have a standard. It would be more accurate to argue that a different pattern of training might result in someone developing in a different way than others who have completed a course with a more familiar pattern of attendance. Our aim anyway should be to encourage an ongoing willingness and capacity to go on learning rather to produce a “finished product”.

I would like to put forward an approach to assessment and qualification which, in my view, addresses many of the concerns of both camps. I am sure that other more imaginative and creative responses could also be found if we are willing to think outside the box.

The approach I am suggesting would need us, as members of the Affiliated Societies, to put more trust in our Heads of Training, our Moderators, our Training Course Committees and our Councils; basically, in ourselves – in the various roles which many of us undertake or have undertaken within the Societies as professional bodies with shared aims and aspirations.

So I propose consideration of the following (drawing on STAT’s regulations):

Remove altogether from the Rules:

“Each training week shall consist of no less than 12 hours of classes and no more than 20 hours of classes over at least four days with each day to consist of no less than three hours of classes and no more than four hours of classes.”

Instead, give Heads of Training, or prospective Heads of Training, the flexibility to propose any schedule that suits the circumstances of their proposed course. However, the applicant would need to convince the Training Course Committee that their proposed schedule was viable (and clearly what is viable in one set of circumstances may not be viable in another). All the variables cannot be seen in advance and there is no need for a complicated set of rules about days, hours or breaks in order to try and predict them. Let our appointed committees make decisions based on their experience, common sense and a willingness to not unreasonably withhold consent.

This would address the needs of the “pro-change” camp.

Then how to address the needs of the “we must protect our standards” camp?

If we are to ensure that a satisfactory training has been achieved then there is a need for some kind of reliable assessment.

It is worth mentioning here that the current system of moderation was introduced over twenty years ago in anticipation of EU regulations which never materialised. In order to persuade the Heads of Training (affectionately referred to by the then Council of STAT as the “Training Course Barons”) to sign up to the scheme, they were allowed to nominate their own moderators. In this way the first panel was appointed. Helpful though the scheme is, it cannot really be defined as “external assessment”, and subsequent Councils have failed to address the issue.

However, there is something about the notion of a test or exam which does not sit well with our ethos – so is there another way to assess a student which, at the same time as safeguarding our professional standards, helps the student to develop their understanding and skills?

I propose that the Affiliated Societies introduce “qualifying courses” to be undertaken at the end of training. Such courses can be run periodically – at a Summer School, for example – by directors of training, moderators, existing assessors (yes we do already assess students from non-STAT courses) and other senior teachers. The hours involved in the qualifying course should be sufficient to get a clear sense of the student’s level of understanding and competence and can be subtracted from the required 1600 hours of training.

I can see a number of advantages to such an approach. There would indeed be an assessment of the student’s level of understanding and skill, but rather than in some kind of “test” or “exam” such an assessment would take place over an extended period (unlike ATI’s sponsorship scheme which is too short). Moreover, the “STAT Qualifying Course” would provide a high level of expert tuition which would expose the student to quality teaching from the different streams of our work, something which must – especially if such a course were also available as CPD to qualified teachers – be in the long-term interests of our Society. It would soon become apparent if any of the schools were not providing a satisfactory level of training. Extra time on the “STAT Qualifying Course” and/or the originating training course may be required for some students, and in some cases advice and guidance may need to be given to a particular school about the structure of their course, curriculum and/or the quality of teaching.

Obviously the above is only one of a number of possible approaches, but the principle is one which would help to develop common standards in our schools and be a first step in addressing the long-delayed issue of qualitative rather than quantitative criteria for qualification and which could allow new schedules to be developed in order to make our work accessible to more people.

We need to act soon. The horse may already have bolted. Despite widely reported trials with positive outcomes that have taken place, people are not queing up for lessons or to train. We must widen the demographic and make training more accessible, otherwise the Affiliated Societies are in danger of becoming merely a padlock on a ruin.

[i] The quote is from “The Organizational Life of Psychoanalysis : Conflicts, Dilemmas, and the Future of the Profession” by Kenneth Eisold. I’m grateful to John Heath for alerting me aspects of the history of psychoanalysis and psychotherapy.

[ii] Accredited trainings meet for 8 weeks per year for four years.

© John Hunter 2018

Why don’t we have embodied awareness naturally?

Perhaps if we lived more natural lives, we would. Our ancestors were more dependent on their senses for survival and thus kept certain pathways active in a way which – in the era of comfortable furniture, soft beds, sedentary lifestyle and 24 hour IT – we do not. Human beings have, one might say, evolved in a lopsided way.

How does it differ from fitness or posture training?

You can get an enhanced sense of well-being – and even improve your health – through any form of exercise but this does not cultivate the subtle connections between mind and body. Similarly one can learn a set of postures, ranging from ridiculous so-called “power-poses” to “deportment training”, but such approaches are guided more by outward appearance than inner sensitivity.

Is it like Mindfulness?

There are similarities and differences. Mindfulness was developed by Buddhist monks as part of their spiritual practice; centuries later certain elements of this practice were adapted by psychologists for therapeutic or developmental purposes. For many Westerners – and increasingly Easterners too – a meditation practice is not sufficient to connect them with themselves in an organic way; there are too many abnormalities in a nervous system which is partly over-stimulated (by lifestyle choices such as caffeine, alcohol, Facebook and other stimulants) and partly almost dormant (lacking sensory self-awareness).

The gentle “hands-on” element of Alexander work can cut through these patterns of thought, nerve activity and muscle tension to give one a direct experience of another way of being.

Click here for classes and courses in Central London.

Be In Your Body!

I can still recall the intensity of my first experience of the Alexander Technique in March 1978.

Although nothing dramatic seemed to happen during the lesson – and from the outside the untrained eye might think that nothing was happening – the changes in my nervous system were profound.

After the session, which lasted no more than 25 minutes, I went and sat in a nearby café to drink a cup of coffee and try to process the new sensations, which I can best describe as an awareness of myself as a living organism rather than a continually changing procession of thoughts.

Let’s not be afraid of being wrong!

“Trying to be right” takes many forms and some of them are extremely subtle. One such is the fear of being wrong, either in one’s own eyes or the eyes of others.

Knowing when we are right is not within our power. How, in fact, can I know anything at all?1

FM Alexander’s response to this question was, according to the Teaching Aphorisms:

“To know when we are wrong is all that we shall ever know in this world.”2

Being wrong can become our ally. Until we know in what way we are wrong we can’t change it:

“Like a good fellow, stop the things that are wrong first!”2

We need to learn to make friends with not so much “being wrong” in itself, but the recognition of it. Hence FM’s plea:

“Don’t come to me unless, when I tell you you are wrong, you make up your mind to smile and be pleased.”2

Maybe some things, like the leopard and his spots, can’t be changed; acceptance is needed. Acceptance, though, can be both a powerful spiritual process or a way of justifying either certain traits that one is not ready to take a long hard look at or, in other cases, a general laissez-fair attitude (which FM also cautions us against3).

Reinhold Niebuhr expressed it well:

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.”4

1. BBC Radio 4’s “A History of Ideas” recently broadcast a series of talks with this title, particularly referencing Bishop Berkley, Karl Popper, David Hume and Ludwig Wittgenstein. (See: BBC Radio 4 iPlayer [UK only].)
2. Teaching Aphorisms: The Alexander Journal No 7, 1972, published by the Society of Teachers of the Alexander Technique. Also published in Articles and Lectures by Mouritz (1995).
3. “…active, vigilant, and open-eyed to the evils which result from his old policy of laissez-faire.” Man’s Supreme Inheritance, FM Alexander, Chapter VII Notes and Instances (response to question III). Published by Mouritz, London 1986.
4.The Serenity Prayer is the common name for a prayer authored by the American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr (see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Serenity_Prayer).

© 2015 John S Hunter

Reflections on History & Development, #2: Lulie and Erika on The First Training Course

I’ve already written about the first Alexander training course in The First Training Course in 1931: a different perspective, but in this post I wish to look in more detail at some of the points made by Lulie Westfeldt in her book F.Matthias Alexander: The Man and His Work1 ) For those who are unfamiliar with this book, I consider it essential reading for anyone with a serious interest in the history and development of the Alexander Technique.

It is fascinating to read how Lulie’s attitude towards FM changed during the four years of the training course. What that says about Lulie and what that says about Alexander, the reader must decide for him or herself.

It was not until many years after I had first read that book, and many years after I first heard Erika Whitaker’s Annual Memorial Lecture (delivered to the Society of Teachers of the Alexander Technique in 1985) that I realised that, to quite a large extent, Erika was responding to much of what Lulie had written in her book.

Erika and Lulie were in different groups or factions at Ashley Place, but remained friends throughout and spent time together teaching at a girls school in the United States after their training course had finished.

The Macdonald/Westfeldt faction was certainly dominant and has seemingly won the battle for history; their version of what happened in the early 1930’s is now the conventional wisdom of how the Technique developed.

Then hereunder are some passages from both writers juxtaposed for comparison. The references to Lulie’s book are from the 1986 Centreline Press Edition. Erika’s lecture is sadly not currently in print.

It is interesting that Erika mostly defends Alexander here, although she certainly had her own critique of him, but one quite different from Lulie’s.

Lulie: p42 “One other thing that took place in this first series of lessons was an emotional scene…..Since I simply didn’t know what F.M. meant me to do, I wavered, hesitated and tried one possible alternative after the other. We had reached a total impasse. I got more and more frantic and he got more and more furious. Finally he burst out ‘You make me feel like a fool’. It surprised me that this should be his main concern and the cause of his anger.”

Erika: “…then one day there would be a slight stir in this quiet series of lessons, and if you were in the room next door you would suddenly hear FM say “You will do it, you will do it”, and this would mean that the pupil had suddenly got himself into a bit of end‑gaining trouble. And if the pupil then protested and said they didn’t intend to do it they were really in trouble and FM would say “Of course you intended to do it, otherwise you wouldn’t have done it”. So as I see it now FM chose the right moment to make a pupil aware of his reactions; probably he had changed the pupil’s condition subtly to a point where it was safe to make the pupil aware of his reactions.”

Lulie: p50: “…..we were like the élite  of all the earth. We admired F.M. uncritically and wholeheartedly, and he basked in our admiration……. We began to have grave doubts about the other human beings outside our orbit.”

Erika: “I began to feel that there seemed to be a tendency at Ashley Place to have the attitude that we were the clever ones and the people out there don’t know anything. And I began to want to be with friends who knew nothing about the Alexander work, who did interesting things and I wanted to find out what else was going on in the world.”

Lulie: p50-51: “Anthony Ludovici2   … was going to write a book about the work: Miss Lawrence3 , the former head of the Froebel Institute, was planning to buy a house and start an Alexander school for small children…
…another opportunity that seemed most promising was the interest of an American foundation…
…F.M. had a way of killing an opportunity, although in the beginning he apparently accepted it and rejoiced in it.”

Erika: “ When (his well-wishers) decided to help him and wanted to set up schools or institutions, any sort of organisation to keep his work going, he was flattered by the periodic attention from these well-wishers and enjoyed it for a while, but then he realised that he was being pushed in the opposite direction to what he believed in, and he refused to be fenced in, and withdrew. Naturally, those many good friends were often puzzled and sometimes offended.”

Lulie: p56: “There were frequent periods in the training course when F.M. was extremely bored….It was a shock to discover that F.M. could get bored teaching – especially teaching us, the future custodians of his work.”

Lulie: p56: “You simply did not get what you needed when you asked him. The answer didn’t meet the question and often mystified you further. If questions were pressed, he would get irritated and behave as though he felt himself persecuted.”

Lulie: P57: “…he was not interested in training. He did not believe anyone could get it.”

Lulie: P59: “I began to see that the fault lay with FM rather than with myself.”

Erika: “Some students complained that FM didn’t explain enough, or that he kept things back, or worse, that FM seemed sometimes a bit bored with his students. Now when we come to explaining, I remember Eliza Doolittle’s plea in ‘My Fair Lady’: “Don’t expline, show me!” Well, FM showed us, day in day out, with his hands, gave us new experiences; as we changed. So it seems now that FM would say he was showing us. That he was bored, I can now understand much better! We couldn’t see the wood for the trees, because we were end‑gaining like all students.”

Erika: “And I began to see more clearly why FM had resisted all attempts to categorise our progress and had such problems answering questions that seemed to him irrelevant and strange, since he put his working principles plainly before us. It was a case of the Chinese saying: ‘There are answers to questions that are never asked'”.

1. F. Matthias Alexander: the Man and his Work, Lulie Westfeldt, p 135. Published in 1986 by Centerline Press, California. First published in 1964. Currently in print published by Mouritz; (back to text).

2. Anthony M. Ludovici (1882 – 1971) (see Wikipedia) went ahead and wrote his book about the Alexander Technique entitled “Health and Education through Self-Mastery”: Published by Watts & Co (UK): 1933; (back to text).

3. Esther Ella Lawrence (1862–1944) was a well-known figure in Education having been involved for many years in establishing in London the work of the German Educationalist and founder of the Kindergarten system Friedrich Froebel (see Wikipedia). According to Lulie Miss Lawrence went as far as buying a property for her planned Alexander school, but FM withdrew from the project at some point and the house was later sold. Earlier (in 1926) Miss Lawrence had sent Margaret Goldie, then one of her young teacher-trainees at Froebel College, to have lessons with Alexander; (back to text).

© 2015 John S Hunter

Traps, Pitfalls and Culs-de-sac #2: Sensation Junkies

Each of the first-generation teachers gave to the Alexander work a particular emphasis, based perhaps on a particular need – or a strong interest – in themselves which was related to just such an aspect or aspects.

Many of the second generation teachers tended to particularly focus on those aspects mastered by their own teachers and then, by a kind of psycho-physical synecdoche, took that for the whole.

It is a consequence of our discipline’s somewhat tribal history and development that many teachers today find it difficult to exchange on more than a superficial level with someone from another lineage.

I will in another post (Systems, Schools and So-called Styles) attempt to explore some of the reasons why these difficulties exist, but here I want to look at some of the problems which I have observed which, though different in many ways, have a common source; an over-emphasis of the sensory side of Alexander work.

The huge amount of hands-on work which takes place in training courses can, of course, be transforming. There is, however, a flip-side to this, which is that a student’s nervous system becomes accustomed to certain sensory experiences, and sensory experiences are, like many other repeated activities of a pleasant – or even unpleasant – nature, addictive.

Alexander warned us about this in a little known passage in MSI (See Equilibrium: Mind, Body and the Thing about Feelings).

Here are some of the more common traps that one might fall into:

  • The “up-junkie”; i.e. someone who is end-gaining for direction, always seeking the experience of “going up” for its own sake – with a corresponding over-stimulation of the nervous system
  • The “release-junkie”; endlessly looking for excuses to lie down and do nothing in the hope that some muscular tension may be released
  • The Alexandroid Mark 1: who attempts to inhibit by blocking the flow of vitality in the body and suppressing natural impulses (see Spontaneity). This is usually brought about by trying to feel oneself being very still.
  • The Alexandroid Mark 2: who attempts to hold onto “good use” by feeling oneself in a certain posture or tonal state.

Most of the above can be recognised by a certain glazed look which appears in the eyes, together with one or another kind of fixity of body (see £10,000 chest).

Of course in time many people are able to let go of these imposed controlling mechanisms, but to what extent they might be avoided in the first place is certainly a question worthy of consideration.

“Control should be in process, not superimposed.”1  F M Alexander

1. Teaching Aphorisms: The Alexander Journal No 7, 1972, published by the Society of Teachers of the Alexander Technique. Also published in Articles and Lectures by Mouritz (1995).

© 2015 John S Hunter

Patrick Macdonald: #5, “It’s Just Happening”, Lewes, 1990

Patrick Macdonald did not, in those later years, speak very much when teaching, but he knew the moment when a few words could help to either induce helpful self-questioning or make something clear.

I recall two such incidents which took place during my last period of study with him.

I was working on one of my colleagues. Mr Macdonald was watching and reminding me with a gesture of his thumb to “take her up!”. Then something shifted; that recognisable change in state occurred in which everything begins to flow. Mr Macdonald leant over towards me, looked me in the eyes and said, very simply and very directly in a quiet but firm voice– as if confiding something both important and personal:

“That’s right! Never mind about her! You look after yourself!”

Then the moment was over. He changed, stood back again and in his usual voice said,

“Go on then, take her up! Your job is to take her up.”

But I wasn’t fooled. Something that I had already at certain moments tasted was now understood; that experience will always stay with me.

In my last lesson with him I remember asking him, when I felt myself moving freely in and out of the chair,

“Who is doing this, Mr Macdonald? You or me?”

“Who do you think is doing it?” he replied.

“I don’t know”, I said.

A minute or so later, when something had really got out of the way and a finer energy was flowing, he asked:

“Who is doing it now?”

“Nobody is doing it,” I replied. “It’s just happening.”

“That’s right,” he said. “It’s just happening.”

And again, at that moment – something was understood.

© John Hunter 2015