Don’t panic: How improv workshops made me calmer and more confident

A first-time student reflects on learning improv and its lasting impact

  • PUBLISHED: Wed 28 Jan 2026, 3:21 PM
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Recently, I tried something I never imagined I could do; I signed up for an improv workshop at Courtyard Playhouse, one of the only dedicated improvisation theatres in Dubai.

My husband and I have been regulars there for years. It became our Monday evening ritual: finish work, drive to Al Quoz, settle into the cosy glow of the Courtyard Playhouse theatre for their Monday Night Improv Show, laugh until our sides hurt, go home refreshed, and repeat next week.

Improv, at its heart, is unscripted comedy. Performers walk on stage with absolutely no plan. They ask the audience for scene suggestions: a location, a relationship, an object, and then create an entire story in real time. Watching actors handle bizarre, almost impossible prompts and transform them into hilarious scenes always felt like magic to me.

Then one day, I found myself signing up for Don’t Panic, their beginner-level improv workshop. I suppose a part of me simply wanted to step outside the four walls of my comfort zone and challenge myself.

The art and science of improv was radically new for me. I am a creature of practice and structure, someone who puts hours into crafting a report or rehearsing a presentation. Improv felt like it belonged to a different species altogether: the witty and the brave.

I remember walking into the first workshop full of jitters, the same feeling I get when inching forward in a waiting queue for rollercoasters. You know something unpredictable and mildly terrifying is about to happen, but you also hope you will step out the other side laughing.

But the rollercoaster I entered, a series of six workshops, turned out to be an unexpectedly warm and increasingly reassuring ride. My class had 10 participants. We were lucky to have Ahmed Achrafi as our instructor. Over the years, we had seen him draw out laughter naturally from the stage; now we watched him slip into the role of a patient, intuitive teacher.

Every class started with warm-up games to shake off stiffness and get us thinking on our feet. Then we would move into different improv games and formats like Questions Only, Freeze, Hats, One Word at a Time and many others.

I had a habit of “playing to win”. I would try too hard, pushing myself to sound clever or funny on command. But every time, Achrafi would bring us back to the core principles of improv which were as philosophical as they were practical.

The truth is funnier than the joke

He reminded us that the audience doesn’t laugh because you are funny. They laugh because the truth is funny.

It’s the honesty; the unpolished, everyday, slightly awkward honesty, that makes improv work. You don’t need to force jokes. You don’t need cleverness. You don’t need a persona. You just need to be present.

Be average, not exceptional

“Just be everyday. Be average,” Achrafi shared with us the secret formula, after a particularly chaotic scene.

Keith Johnstone, one of the pioneers of modern improv, teaches the same radical mantra: Be average. Don’t fear failure.

This is everything we were taught our whole lives not to be. We spend our working lives chasing excellence. But in improv, excellence gets in the way. The harder you try to be brilliant, the faster the scene collapses.

The moment you relax, respond naturally, and choose the obvious answer instead of the clever one, the scene takes flight.

Be a team player

Another principle: support your fellow players. If you shut down someone’s idea, the story collapses. But when you accept an idea, when you say “yes, and…”, you build something together. And collaboration is where the laughter lives.

It took me a few sessions to unlearn my instinct to control the outcome. But once I did, the scenes became smoother and more joyful.

As did I.

At the end of the six weeks, we had a live showcase, where we performed improv onstage for a full house audience of our friends and families. Backstage, I was nervous, trying hard to remember every lesson. But just before we went live, Achrafi reminded us to trust our instincts and, most importantly, to have fun.

We stepped onstage to loud cheers, and thirty minutes of showtime passed in a jiffy.

We did it. We survived. And we actually enjoyed every moment.

Even now, months later, I return to that night whenever life feels overwhelming. I remember stepping onstage terrified and stepping off feeling triumphant. Knowing that I once pulled off thinking on my feet makes me feel instantly calmer and more self-assured. I listen better and collaborate more openly. I still put in my hours of preparation at work, but I no longer panic or spiral into self-doubt the way I used to. And for that, I will always be grateful.