ERIC QUANG GELB

As a musical theatre educator, I consider myself a “rare unicorn”. My love of teaching wasn’t born from being a former (or current) performer - I knew when I was 15, watching my childhood director, that I didn’t belong onstage. I wanted to teach. So I went to school for Theatre Education, where I specialized in pre-professional & collegiate training. But I’ve learned that neither of those things (Broadway credits or a degree) automatically make for a good teacher. Philosophy and intent does.  

 

Philosophically, I hold two truths at once. I demand excellence - not perfection - from my students. While I’d love for them to hit their marks perfectly every time, it isn’t about that. It’s being full-out and showing up to the best of their ability each day. A culture of hard work or rigor does not need to be inherently toxic. In that way, I am “old school”. I’ve seen many performers grow frustrated because they’re not being challenged, or graduate from programs that were meant to be preparatory enter the industry and find the work’s needs exceeding what they were trained for. But though my expectations are high, I am a “new age” director: humanity, empathy and respect are non-negotiable in my rooms. Affirming artist advocacy is everything. I’ve been confided in countless times from students about experiences they had where their spirits were broken by a teacher, leaving them traumatized because they were told things so harmful they’re still trying to unlearn them. 

 

To strike a perfect balance and not over-correct, it requires a selfless intent. To be specific and nuanced. It’s not about “seeing yourself in the student”, but seeing them for their gifts and holding them accountable. For that reason, I enjoy working with early career performers on their first gig. Guiding them through the experience, its culture shock and how to disseminate when they’re being being mistreated, and when they are simply being asked to do their job. It's mentorship I relish in.

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I pride myself on my educational shows disrupting the methodology that "product" quality is irrelevant. It isn't everything - but I want my students to feel that love and care has been poured into every aspect of their show. So they wear lace wigs, they sing the harmony parts on the page and run numbers until it is clean. I fill in the gaps as necessary, so they can perform at capacity - whether the show is a high school production on a world-class stage, with a six figure budgets, supported by a union crew - or inside of an A/C-less gym in the middle of the woods.

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Living in NYC and being in other professional spaces, I keep a finger on the pulse of the industry at present, and translate it into my classroom. Everything I do in front of a room or share with impressionable minds, is not only appropriate, but considers diversity and imagination. It responds to “type” in a dynamic way. 

 

And honestly - they respond to it in spades. The highest compliment I receive is when they say “you/this process helped me heal and fall back in love with theatre again”.