Why Improv Comedy Was My Favorite Class in College

January 18th, 2020

I decided to take TD 306: Intro to Improv Comedy during the fall semester of 2019. At the time I didn’t really know if taking this class was worth my time. I was stuck in the mentality that all the classes I took in college should be related to computer science. Yet, trying to register for a class that was NOT computer science related was a challenge itself. My brain rushed with thoughts:

Why the hell should I waste money on a class that has no contribution to my degree plan?

Is this class going to help me become funny?

Can I at least secure an internship by learning improv?

Looking back on this, I can only scoff at the absurdity of the situation. I am literally only in college for 4 years, and I’ll probably never get a chance to take such a class again with no consequences. Imagine 23 year old Karthik living in a studio apartment in Palo Alto, running back home to get on a meeting call with his team b/c I decided to “expand my hobbies” by signing up for a $300 improv comedy class up in San Francisco, only to have the Caltrain fail on me during the ride back (as expected). Yeah, it’s embarassing, and yes, that is a genuine fear of mine. Now do you see the absurdity of the situation? Screw it, Ritvik said this class was good. And so I took a leap of faith.

Try, Try Again

The first few classes of improv sucked. I couldn’t really understand the “games” that you would have to play, and I sucked at coming up with things on the spot. The only thing I really knew how to do well was study. You give me a book and tell me that you’ll quiz me over chapter 13, and I’d probably be able to recite insignificant details for the sake of my grade. But tell me to come up with a response to a scene that my partner creates on the spot? No chance. It was brutal and honestly kind of humiliating. I had childhood flashbacks of standing in front of my peers and being told to read poems or sing during music class. It was terrifying, and half the time I was considering whether or not I should drop the class or not. Would I be able to keep up with my peers, who were far more talented and fearless than I was?

I wasn’t sure, but I knew that I had to try. Again and again. Until I could manage to find a way to break out of my barrier and stop giving a damn about what others thought about me. I lived 19 years of my life worrying about how I appeared to others. I was usually pretty lively with the people I was comfortable with, but improv was a whole new kind of beast. I was performing in front of people I barely knew. During the first few weeks of class I messed up an uncountable number of times. I’d stand up and try to perform a scene, and I’d either be too awkward to go with what my partner initiated or I’d start a scene that went nowhere e.g. pretending to be biking up Mt. Everest. The heck was I doing?

The Breakthrough

I’m fairly convinced in anything that we do, there is a certain moment when we realize that we can actually be decent at something. It’s hard to describe, but there’s a moment when your frustrations cause your brain to fry out and you stop giving a damn about what others think. Failures are numbing and you begin to work much better under pressure. If you’ve watched Whiplash before, it’s akin to the scene where Neiman returns to give the best performance of his life after being brutally demeaned by Fletcher for the last time.

I remember at some point in the middle of October, I was sick and tired of feeling like crap after practicing a certain scene or technique. I would overthink things and try to be funny. This wasn’t supposed to be improv. I’m not trying to be funny. I really just needed to do my job and contribute to a scene. In a moment of clarity, things seemed to be much simpler than what I had imagined them to be. I was able to see connections in scenes and integrating them with my character work didn’t seem as complicated as it once was. I’m not sure if I just got a suggestion that worked well with my brain but something finally clicked and I was able to perform my first successful scene. It felt good, knowing that the constant persistence eventually wore off my fear of messing up in front of others. I embraced the victory, and I remember writing about it in my improv journels (we had to do it for the class.)

Improv comedy was probably the most rewarding experience I’ve had in college. I was pushed to do something completely out of my comfort zone and it felt extremely liberating to tackle a childhood fear of mine. Sure, I could learn plenty of things with books, but improv forced me to think on my feet (something that I really, really suck at) and adapt to a situation. While certain things can be accomplished with diligent preparation, instinctive reactions are still an important foundation to build upon. When things go south, how do we react in that moment? Nevertheless, I still suck at improv. I struggle to react properly to certain offers, and I’m not the best at dealing with scenes that take unexpected turns. But I’m still trying my best and that’s enough for me.

Thanks Ritvik!