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The Pediatrician and The Improv
by Ann Beach
October 1, 2005
I
t's five minutes until show time. Eight of us are behind stage, nervous and excited.
We've practiced for weeks. In just a few minutes, we'll perform before a live audience (including
my family and friends), yet we don't know our lines, or which part we'll play. We don't even know
what the subject of our performances will be. But we do know it'll be great fun. It's Improv!
If you don't know, Improv is a form of comedy based on spontaneous skits or games using
suggestions from the audience, with no script developed before-hand. It requires great teamwork, a
quick wit, great listening skills and a willingness to be zany.
Taking A Break With Laughter
I've been a practicing pediatrician for over 20 years. I have spent years taking care of
sick children in my office. As a hospital administrator, I've spent time focusing on quality of
care and prevention of medical errors. Most recently, as a pediatric hospitalist, I've cared for
ill children in the hospital. It's all been pretty serious stuff. And I felt the need to try
something different - to use the other side of my brain - to stretch myself a bit. So at my
husband's urging (and with a Christmas gift of classes), I began taking Improv classes a year ago.
Since then, I've taken classes with three different instructors at Dad's Garage and at Laughing
Matters, and performed on-stage for "graduation" four times. I've had fun, I've been scared, I've
laughed out loud, I've been embarrassed, I've been frustrated, and I've been proud of myself.
What have I learned? Well first of all, I learned that it's very liberating to try something
different, and go outside my comfort zone. I learned how fun it was to have friends who are really
different from me. In all of my classes, I have usually been the oldest (I'm not that old, but I'm
by no means a young 25-year-old Gen Xer). I've been the only one who is married with a child, and
living a pretty conventional life. I've found myself surrounded by cartoon artists, computer
graphics experts, musicians, teachers and out-of-work actors. Initially, I felt like an old
Buckhead matron, and then realized that I was having fun doing something with a bunch of
like-minded incredibly creative people. My age and back-ground were only an issue if I let them be.
One of the first rules of Improv (yes, there are rules!) is "Yes, and ..." "Yes, and ..."
means that whatever suggestion or reality your Improv partner throws at you, you must immediately
accept it as the current reality and add to it. For example, if the audience suggestion is a skit
about a rabbit, and my stage partner says, "I'm sorry Ma'am, the tests show conclusively that you
are allergic to rabbits." I must agree and add to it. So, I might say, "Well, it's a good thing I
just traded all of my rabbits for chinchillas." Or, "But my husband is Roger Rabbit! What will we
do?" But I must never say, "Oh, no, I'm not allergic to rabbits." So, I'm learning to embrace
the current reality, believe it fully and try to figure out how to add to it. Sometimes this even
translates to the rest of my life. If my boss says something is just not in the budget and has to
be postponed until next year, perhaps my Improv training will let me say, "Yes, and ... I think I
can figure out how to fund it anyway." Or, our family vacation doesn't work out as planned, I can
say, "Yes, and ... got to a concert at Chastain instead."
Improv Improves Confidence
The second rule of Improv is Be willing to put your-self in danger. Nope, this doesn't mean
leaping in front of speeding cars. It means that you must be excited about the prospect of doing
something even when you don't know how or what you're going to do. In Improv, we often do tag-team
monologues, during which my stage partner starts telling a story about something, and I leap in and
continue the story, interrupting him in mid-sentence. And we continue to interrupt each other,
telling the story in bits and pieces. I can't wait until I know what I'm gong to say to jump in and
interrupt him; I have to just have faith that words will come out of my mouth. I must stop thinking
and just react! And sometimes that's the right thing to do in the rest of my life -stop thinking
and just react. Be comfortable with putting myself in danger, having faith in my own abilities,
stepping into something that I've never done before and being willing to try something new.
So, will you see me again, doing a graduation performance at Dad's Garage or Manuel's
Tavern? Probably so. I've gotten addicted to the rush of having a "Yes and ..." attitude, of
putting myself in danger and trying things I didn't think I could do. See you there!
Ann Beach is a pediatrician at Children's at Scottish Rite.
