Walking the Halls with a Puppet Tree: Analog Innovation in Social Work Education

Gerald Palmer, MSW, Director of Practicum Education, Avila University

Gerald Palmer, MSW is the Director of Practicum Education at Avila University. He integrates creative arts and technology into social work education. He is passionate about empowering students, shaping future social work professionals, and fostering inclusive community solutions.

With over 20 years of experience in program development, mentorship, and advocacy, Gerald Palmer’s mission is to inspire meaningful change in individuals and communities. He is committed in mentoring future leaders and advancing the principles of equity and justice in education. Gerald Palmer shares his expertise for the 2026 edition of Education Technology Insights on the role of puppetry and his experience in Social Work Education.

Power of Puppetry in Social Work Education

When I walk down the halls of Avila University carrying my puppet tree—yes, an actual tree full of puppets—from my office to the classroom, I get looks of wonderment, confusion, and the occasional double take. I do not blame them. Puppets are not what most people expect to see in a college hallway, let alone a social work classroom. But every semester, when I bring them in, something extraordinary happens.

“Puppetry may seem simple, even whimsical, but it reveals how the oldest tools can teach the newest lessons.”

At first, students laugh, raise eyebrows, and exchange curious glances. Then, within minutes of our first case simulation, the atmosphere changes. A puppet becomes a “client,” and the energy in the room shifts. Students lean forward, listen more closely, and engage deeply as they practice SOLER—the core listening posture of social work:

S – Sit squarely toward the person, O – Open posture, L – Lean forward, E – Eye contact, R – Relaxed body posture.

What begins as a novelty quickly turns into a powerful tool for empathy and reflection.

Enhancing Empathy and Communication

Most of my students are pursuing a Bachelor of Social Work degree, but I also get students from nursing, education, and other disciplines. We use puppetry in small, randomly assigned groups to simulate real practice situations—conversations about trauma, loss, child welfare, or bias. In one session, a puppet represented a child revealing a long-hidden family trauma. When the “caseworker,” played by a student, tried to reassure the “parent,” another student, playing the child, gently turned the puppet’s head away. The gesture was small, but the silence that followed was deep. Everyone in the room felt it. The puppet’s quiet refusal spoke louder than words.

Later that day, one student wrote in their weekly journal:

“It surprised me how real it felt. The puppet helped me see how much emotion sits behind silence. I learned that empathy isn’t about fixing—it’s about being present.”

That reflection captures why I see puppetry as educational technology. It does not require Wi-Fi or software, but it does what technology is supposed to do—extend our human capability. Puppetry turns emotion, ethics, and empathy into visible, shareable experiences. It is a communication tool that helps students externalize thoughts, explore feelings, and practice professional skills in a safe, creative space.

For neurodivergent students, puppetry can be especially powerful. It provides structure and distance while allowing expression that feels natural and safe. The puppet becomes both shield and mirror—something to project through and reflects with.

Bridging Knowledge and Action through Puppetry

Educational technology, at its best, connects knowledge to action. Puppetry does that in an embodied way. It helps students explore boundaries, emotions, and practice techniques—skills they will need when working with clients in the real world. And it doesn’t just benefit social work majors. I have seen the shyest student come alive behind a puppet, while the most confident athlete learns the power of silence and stillness.

When students pair these in-class experiences with weekly digital journals, the learning deepens even more. The analog experience and online reflection feed each other. Students watch their recordings, analyze tone and posture, and track growth over time. The puppet provides presence; the journal provides perspective. Together, they create what I call analog innovation—a hybrid learning technology that bridges performance and reflection, imagination and analysis.

Higher education is missing imagination. We have become experts in data collection but novices in wonder. Too often, conversations about educational technology focus on software adoption or analytics dashboards. Those tools matter—but they cannot replace the relational heart of learning. Puppetry reminds us that creativity itself is technology. Long before we had apps or algorithms, educators used stories, gestures, and play to teach empathy and meaning. Puppetry brings that lineage forward into the modern classroom.

For social work education, the implications are profound. Students must learn not just what to do, but how to be—how to listen, regulate emotion, and respond ethically under pressure. Puppetry gives them a safe space to practice those skills before stepping into the field. It lets them rehearse the human side of professional life, something no digital platform can replicate on its own.

As classrooms continue to evolve, I hope educators remember that innovation does not always come from a screen. Sometimes it comes from fabric, foam, and imagination. Puppetry may seem simple, even whimsical, but it reveals how the oldest tools can teach the newest lessons. When we blend analog and digital learning, we are not choosing between past and future. We are rediscovering how both can work together to make education more human.

Educational Technology