Why I Only Teach One Improv Class a Year (And Why It Happens in the Winter)

Katarina Kojic
Jan 26
2 min read

I only teach one improv class a year, and that choice has been reinforced again and again by the rooms I’ve been lucky enough to be in.

Most recently, directing PhotoProv in Philadelphia reminded me what becomes possible when the same group of people commits to showing up together over time. Partnering with SideQuest Theater, I gathered a cast of generous, curious artists: Dan Carr, Christy Devlin, Jared Dunn, Lina Dunn, Amber Harned, Katie Hewko-Dykes, Blake Laisure, Gabe Nathans, Paolo Ozaraga, and Sam Wolf.

Together, we spent eight weeks building something from the ground up.

Our work wasn’t about rushing toward punchlines or polishing outcomes. We focused on listening, trust, and exploration. We practiced building character monologues and scenes inspired by photographs, sometimes funny, sometimes tender, sometimes strange, always human. Week after week, the consistency mattered. Confidence grew. Risks got braver. Collaboration deepened because the container was steady and cared for.

That experience didn’t create my approach to teaching, but it absolutely reinforced it.

Improv works best when it is intentional, spacious, and human. When the teacher can truly be present with the room. When the group has time to gel. When play feels supported instead of pressured. That is why I choose to offer one class a year, and why I offer it in the winter.

Winter has a way of shrinking our routines. Work, home, repeat. The days get shorter and it becomes easy to stay inside both physically and creatively. The Improv Playground is an invitation to step outside that pattern and try something that does not look like the rest of your week.

For five Saturdays, you get a warm room devoted to play, laughter, and connection. Whether you are brand new to improv or brushing the dust off the basics, this class is designed to be welcoming, low pressure, and genuinely fun. The kind of thing you find yourself looking forward to all week. The funnest part of your winter routine.