As TYA practitioners, we cannot solve all the problems they face, nor is it our responsibility to provide answers to every social issue. But surely we have a role to play in listening to them, asking questions with them, and creating spaces where their thoughts, feelings, and concerns can be expressed and explored.
Over the past couple of months, I have been involved in reviewing applications from Korea for the official performance programme of the ASSITEJ World Congress and Festival 2027. It has been a great privilege to watch such a wide range of Korean productions. I have enjoyed the experience, even though I had to watch a lot of them online, and there were simply so many!
During the review, however, I noticed that relatively few productions addressed the issues Korean children and young people face today, such as the classroom crisis, gender conflict, and other social concerns, from their own perspectives. More precisely, I found few works that questioned or explored the realities of their lives and the world around them. There were some, particularly for teenagers, but not many. Of course, I don’t believe this necessarily reflects Korean TYA as a whole. However, I had a similar impression a couple of years ago when I served on a jury reviewing applications for national funding for TYA productions.
There may be several reasons for this. Perhaps we still tend to believe that performances for children and young people should above all be fun and enjoyable, or that serious social issues are not suitable for young audiences. There is absolutely nothing wrong with making fun and enjoyable performances. But I find it rather sad that there seem to be so few works that question or explore the lives of children and young people.
What has happened to Korean TYA?
One of the main reasons, I suspect, is that we may have failed to listen to their voices, especially their inner voices. These voices may not be loud or easily heard. They may be expressed in ways or through languages that we, as adult practitioners, are not familiar with. Perhaps we simply don’t know how to listen to them. We live in a loud, colourful, and fast-moving world that leaves little room for quieter voices, especially those with less power. Listening is much harder than speaking. It takes time, patience, and a willingness to question our own assumptions about children and young people.
As TYA practitioners, we cannot solve all the problems they face, nor is it our responsibility to provide answers to every social issue. But surely we have a role to play in listening to them, asking questions with them, and creating spaces where their thoughts, feelings, and concerns can be expressed and explored.
One of the central themes of the ASSITEJ World Congress 2027 is Children’s Voices. I sincerely hope this Congress will be an opportunity for us to reflect on what it really means to listen to children and young people, and how their voices might challenge and inspire the way we create theatre.
Perhaps, before asking what kind of theatre we should create for them, we need to ask ourselves a more fundamental question: Are we really listening to them?
