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WHAT'S NEW
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Life lessons from comedy school
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Comedy school taught Bonnie Staring more than how to crack a joke. Find out how she learned about courage, opportunity and being yourself.
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By Bonnie Staring
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"Farewell, junk food!"
"So long, self-doubt!"
One by one, eight brightly coloured balloons floated up into the sky.
"Buh-bye, ‘fat pants!'"
My friends and I had just sent our bad habits on their way -- literally. Attached to each balloon was a piece of paper inscribed with a habit (or, in one case, an ongoing fashion faux pas) we wanted to break. It was a lot more fun than our usual whining, and it was a good excuse to be outside on a sunny afternoon.
Adding leftover birthday party supplies to a gathering of girlfriends created a self-help celebration we still laugh about. One friend claims the image of that yellow balloon floating away helped her lose (and keep off) 20 pounds; another finally started the novel she always wanted to write. We had put two things together in a completely new way: a skill I picked up in an unusual classroom -- at comedy school.
Important lessons from a unique program
After a year at Humber College's School of Comedy, which offers the only diploma program in Canada on writing and performing in the funny business, I discovered I had ended up with more than the tools of the humour trade. I'd learned lessons I could apply to everyday life.
After studying advertising in college, I felt ready to be part of groundbreaking campaigns that would influence the marketplace. Where I ended up was on an assembly line of budgets, timelines and paperwork. I started working on short-term contracts, hoping I'd find a role where I could be excited about my work and make a living. None fit the bill. In August 2002, as I neared the end of another OK-but-unsatisfying project (managing the production of 20 annual reports simultaneously), I was shocked when the financial services company rewarded me with a substantial bonus and the offer of a full-time position.
While I was flattered, deep down I knew that taking the job would be a mistake. Knowing that I needed a break and a way to exercise my almost-forgotten sense of humour (one annual report isn't exactly rib-tickling; 20 are downright grim), my husband clipped out an ad from our local paper for summer comedy workshops at Humber. They sounded fun. I called for more information and discovered the college offered a full-time program as well.
In comedy? They had to be kidding.
They weren't. A course calendar arrived in my mailbox a few days later. Shtick, improv, clown, stand-up and sketch writing were all compulsory subjects. I could complete the course in one year. "Why not audition?" suggested my husband. "If you're accepted you can always ask if you could attend next year."
Telling my boss I needed a day off to audition for comedy school was a piece of cake compared with the audition. All I can remember was a standard-looking office and the overwhelming urge to throw up.
I got in.
Click to continue...
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