Life lessons from comedy school

"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.

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Thoughts of waiting a year to get started disappeared faster than my friend Joanne's famous seven-layer dip. This was my chance to see if I had what it took to put my sense of humour to work for me. There was so much to learn, and I felt ready for it.

So there I was, in a class filled with 24 other undiscovered funny people, learning that comedy is a serious business, completing homework assignments (write 10 jokes about Enron), performing my first stand-up gig and discovering that dying on stage isn't fatal. It was just like being in high school again, but with adult-onset self-doubt and a new brand of peer pressure. Forget about wearing the right jeans; here I had to come up with wittier, more topical punch lines at the drop of a hat. It was like a constant, cerebral version of rock, paper, scissors.

"They don't like me."
That was one of 10 statements I had to choose from just before opening the door to the classroom where my audience awaited me. One by one, I'd select a phrase, try it on and then open the door. Did the audience's reaction change? Yes, because I had unwittingly told them how to react. In this case, I had betrayed my thoughts by shrinking back and avoiding eye contact. That's when it hit me: I could use this lesson to talk myself "up" rather than "down" before entering a boardroom, a subway car or even a party -- to create a better impression in any situation. I could apply the skills I was learning not just to delivering snappy lines into a microphone, but to being more successful and effective throughout my life.

For example:

Think outside the cage
Think of a grey animal. Is it an elephant? That's what pops to mind for most people. In comedy school, we were taught to dig deeper for a second idea -- or a 33rd.

We experimented with different techniques used by "idea generators" in the fields of entertainment, executive coaching, advertising and new business development. Visualization and exploring with all of our senses helped us get away from two-dimensional thinking and sometimes into the absurd.

Deanna Abbott-McNeil, a physiotherapist who left her post at a teaching hospital to attend the Humber College program, points out that even smells can yield material. "We all associate scents with memories and emotions, so playing around with them becomes inherently funny."

Many of my instructors claimed that there are no new ideas out there, only new ways of putting them together. Like balloons and bad habits, or tired complaints and helium gas. My girlfriends and I had been stuck in a negative rut where whining had become the norm. While some of them were hesitant when they first saw the balloons, all of us seemed to end up with a more forgiving attitude toward ourselves.

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Jump off the edge
Too often we let our nerves or the butterflies in our stomachs scare us into backing off from a challenge (or opportunity). Whether we're preparing to go on stage, speak with our neighbour about his wayward dog or apply for a new job, those jitters are just telling us we're doing something different. And when fear wins, you lose.

In comedy school, fear showed up at the first audition and shadowed us along each step of our journey. Early on we discovered the high price of not taking risks: self-doubt and regret.Rob Trick, an accomplished comedian who teaches clown and stand-up for the comedy program, encourages students to do their first few stand-up sets as soon as possible. "And they need to create some new material for each set," he adds. Trick says that this method gives students the confidence to try new things and not let fear get in the way. They soon discover, like I did, that dying on stage has nothing to do with dying in real life.

Be yourself
"Oh, look! It's the girl who does that thing with her face."

The last thing you want to do is become a one-trick pony, says Trick, or rely on gimmicks or characters rather than find your own voice. And that means creating opportunities to connect or share with your audience.

"I always thought that being ‘real' just meant being more serious," says Sarah-Mae Spalding, who has appeared on Life (now Slice) Network's "The Call," TV commercials and regional theatre productions since her Humber graduation. "But it's scarier than that."

In class, we were given the opportunity to rant about whatever was on our minds. "One day it took me over four hours to get to school," says Spalding. Venting the frustration allowed her an incredible aha moment: not only did her audience find her really, really funny -- but they were also really, really sympathetic.

The experience of comedy school "made it easier to open up to new experiences," says Spalding, "marriage being one of them." In August 2006, she wholeheartedly took on the role of a happy newlywed. "We might have waited another five years if it weren't for comedy school," she laughs. And besides, "you have to have a sense of humour when you're married!"

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Choose your stage
As it turns out, not all comedy students are meant for open-mike nights or the talk-show circuit. However, Trick insists that while it's rare for a student to find the right stage right off the bat, there's one for every one of his students, and he encourages each to be diligent in looking for it. The same goes for careers. (In case you're wondering, I struggled with stand-up. But I don't regret the experience. It pointed me to the career path where I found that joy I was looking for -- in writing.)

Humour: priceless

The most important lesson of all was discovering the enormous power in humour. As a weapon, it can tear down the competition. Use it in networking and you'll be remembered. It builds relationships, breaks down barriers, relieves stress and even heals. After graduation, Abbott-McNeil returned to her career as a physiotherapist, where her quick wit and sense of comedic timing add a healthy dose of laughter to her patients' regimens.

A family argument quickly turned into a shared laugh when I borrowed a Dr. Phil impersonation from one of my classmates, Mitch Cutler, saying, "If you butter your bread on both sides, it's always going to fall butter-side down."

Comedy school was an experience that had me terrified, excited, crestfallen and proud -- all on the first day. But it also helped me discover who I am and the opportunities that are out there for me. I also learned that any audience, whether family, friends or co-workers, will laugh along with you if you're comfortable in your own skin.

Ready for your turn? Remember -- all of life's your stage.

Never underestimate the healing power of laughter, the most fun way to stay healthy.

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