I graduated from Stand-Up Comedy school and here’s what I learned.

From an art gallery window on a bustling Downtown Orlando intersection you could see the fast-moving blur. A skinny male of Lupe Fiasco-resemblance is running like a dog is behind him. He would have a notebook in his left hand while simultaneously ripping off his bowtie with his right. That guy was me, and usually the sight of a black man running at full speed is a bad omen. I was very good at parking on the furthest floor of the garage at the exact time class started. Then I would sprint, while trying to rip off my work clothes to look like a normal comedian all in time to get to class.
My teacher, Ali Flores, looked at me with a congratulatory grin. He placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Cal this is the last class. There are no more levels. Please don’t come back here.”
The next day, I pulled the locked door handle and it hit me — That was the last class. There are no more levels and I probably shouldn’t come back here. The homeless man beside the door said, “Yep, that’s it.”
I turned around and faced South Orange street like a baby eagle being pushed out of the nest to fly and explore the possibility of being poached. I feel prepared to start my career in comedy and SAK’s Stand-up Comedy School is why. SAK gave me a detailed workflow of how to put my jokes together — how to fix my face, change my voice and more. But more importantly, I learned that I am indeed a comedian — no longer aspiring. As I continue this journey, I will keep these lessons in mind:
- Comedy is not just standing in front of a microphone and talking for 5 minutes. — It takes lots of preparation. There’s a difference in telling a story and doing comedy. I actually saw a “comic” talk for 15 minutes without telling a single joke. It was sad. Just the other night, I heard someone talking about how their dad died, which somehow led to “the Irish have to stick together.” This isn’t comedy. Make people laugh. As a matter of fact, the most critical criterion on judging comedic competitions is laughs. If your jokes don’t make people laugh, you’ve missed your opportunity to be a good comic.
- You must have a passion for writing. — If you don’t like to write, you may not make it. Writing your jokes and augmenting them on paper (or laptop screen) is the best way to see improvement in your concepts and delivery.
- You must have an understanding of acting. — Empathy is the most essential attribute you must have in order to make many of your jokes work. Impressions require acting. Then you must understand how your audience feels with certain material. Use facial expressions, voice intonation, and gestures to paint vivid scenarios for your crowd. Learn to channel your inner Tom Hanks or Merryl Streep.
- Joke-telling is about rhythm. — There’s a rhythm to every joke. If that rhythm is off by one small word, syllable, voice inflection, eye movement, stutter or swallow it could cancel the laughs.
- You need a mentor, someone to study, someone to serve. — Study other comics. Go to open mics and study the crowd. Find someone who can tell you why your jokes suck!
- If the joke isn’t funny, don’t throw it away!— It has potential. If it doesn’t work at the moment, put a star next to it. You will probably imagine a better punchline in eight weeks. I’m currently watching my buddy, Preston, fix his ‘grandma-hand-dryer-machine’ joke. It’s probably gonna take him decades.
- Network and support other comedians — No comic can make it alone! Support each other and attend open mics. Drop $500 on the bar tab in support of the hosting comic; that’s what I do. Be an active member of the community. We’re all still trying to figure this comedy thing out, but it’s better together.
