Secret Teacher: Issue 87

You know that couple that no-one can figure out how they got together? ‘What are they even doing with each other?’ friends whisper as they leave the room, ‘He's only after her for her money’, ‘She thinks he's cute and artistic but actually he's a nightmare’.

Welcome to the unholy marriage of conservatoire Drama training and the mainstream university system. Over the past few years, all but one of the twenty mainstream Drama schools of the Federation of Drama Schools (FDS) have been put into the care of trusts or been sold to universities.

The only exception is Oxford School of Drama who soldier on alone, and independent. The question is, what on earth do they think they are getting? For the Drama schools it's pretty clear; financial stability, better support facilities for students and the chance to knock 20% off the fees (no VAT, an immediate win). But for the universities? They get a cauldron of seething artistic neuroses, teaching staff that produce but don't publish, a creative approach to fiscal responsibility and expensive courses that produce wildly unpredictable results. No wonder after the Vice-Chancellor and her army of administrators have got over the thrill of being two yards away from someone who may possibly be famous one day, they suffer a classic case of buyer's remorse. ‘Why do these show-offs need 30 hours a week when the quiet, polite Accountancy students only need 10?’ they sigh. And so, the inevitable happens; contact hours are cut, more experienced and therefore expensive tutors are laid off, production budgets and rehearsal spaces start to disappear.

The pattern is starting to become familiar. Arguments over freelance status start to break out. Have you ever seen three professional clowns trying to fill out a form that decides whether PAYE is to be deducted from their invoices for the one week of the year they work for the School? Define surreal. The Drama school staff realise they are on 60% of what the universities pay equivalent staff. Demands are made, the atmosphere in the staff room turns toxic as it becomes apparent that in order to survive, half of them must be thrown out of the lifeboat. Or eaten…And so, as the friends wave them off, watching the odd couple holding hands and stumbling down the garden path together, they turn to each other with a shrug: ‘He'll get bored of her’, ‘She'll have dumped him by Easter’.

Do you have views you'd like to express anonymously? Get in touch with the editor at sarah.lambie@markallengroup.com and ask if you can contribute a Secret Teacher column. We'd love to hear from you!