Some Theatre Teachers Really Need to Learn the Difference Between Teaching and Killing Dreams

by Chris Peterson

There is a particular kind of arrogance that seems to show up in theatre training far too often, and it is this idea that a professor or teacher gets to decide who is and is not meant for this business.

Every so often, I hear a story from someone in theatre about the moment a professor, acting teacher, or even a high school director told them some version of, “This just isn’t for you.” And telling that student to try something else.

Our own Hannah Crawford has experienced this, Adam Sandler was famously told by his NYU professor to try something else, and Sidney Poitier was told to go be a dishwasher instead of an actor when he first auditioned.

Maybe it was framed as honesty. Maybe it was called tough love. But every time, I come back to the same question: where do these people get the nerve?

Because that is all it is. Nerve. The audacity to take a personal opinion and deliver it like a final ruling on someone else’s future.

I am not saying theatre educators need to sugarcoat things. Students should be challenged. Honest feedback matters. If someone needs a stronger technique, more discipline, better preparation, or a deeper understanding of their craft, that should absolutely be part of the conversation.

But that is not the same as telling someone they are not cut out for it.

That is where those educators lose me. There is a huge difference between teaching and dismissing. Good teaching is honest, specific, and rooted in the belief that people can improve. “Your vocal technique needs work” is teaching. “Your audition material is not showing your strengths” is teaching.

A real teacher does not just point out the problem. They help a student understand the problem, why it matters, and how to get better. They can be blunt without being cruel. They can raise the bar without slamming the door. Even “you may need to rethink how you are approaching this” can be teaching.

But “this isn’t for you”? That is not honesty. That is not education. That is ego. That feels like the opposite of what theatre is supposed to be.

This is an art form built on growth. Plenty of successful performers were not polished at 18. Or 20. Or 22, or 42 for that matter. Some people bloom early. Some take longer. Some are never the most naturally gifted person in the room, but they are the hardest working. Some need the right mentor. Some need confidence. Some just need time.

A teacher can absolutely help someone understand where they are struggling. What they should not do is confuse where a student is now with where they are capable of going.

And I think that is the piece that bothers me most. If you are a professor, your role is not to stand at the gate like some all-knowing judge of potential. Your role is to educate, to develop talent, and to help students get better. Your job is to identify weaknesses without turning those weaknesses into a verdict.

Because sometimes what gets called honesty is really just laziness.

It is easier to write someone off than to teach someone who is struggling. It is easier to tell a student to look elsewhere than to figure out how to help them improve. It is easier to act like your opinion is wisdom than to do the harder work of mentorship.

And the damage from that kind of carelessness can last for years.

If a student eventually decides theatre is not the path for them, that is one thing. But that decision should come from growth, reflection, and experience, not because someone in authority decided to close their doors before it had even fully opened.

Theatre teachers are allowed to be demanding, even blunt at times. In fact, not only are they allowed to be, but they should be sometimes.

What they are not entitled to do is act like their limited view of a student in one season of life is somehow destiny.

That is not wisdom. It is not bravery. And it is definitely not teaching. It is just one person’s opinion, said with far too much confidence.

And for something as personal, vulnerable, and evolving as artistry, that should never be enough to tell someone to give up.