Leadership-in-Practice Committee Pilots Improvisation Workshop

Richard C. Zink, JMP Statistical Discovery

What do you think of when you hear “improvisation”? Spontaneity? Creating something without preparation? Making things up on the spot? These are all good answers.

For some of us, our minds go immediately to music: the complex solos performed in succession by a group of jazz musicians in a nightclub; the finger dexterity of a guitarist shredding a head-banging rock anthem; or the lyrical wordplay of hip hop artists crafting personal stories over a beat. Others might picture cooking and creating new dishes by mixing unfamiliar ingredients without formal measurements, dancing and how our bodies move in the moment according to the music, the ingenuity of MacGyver (or his comedic doppelganger MacGruber) as he developed ad hoc solutions to foil fiendish plots, or how the emotions experienced and shared between individuals in a theater scene may lead to different reactions from and outcomes for the characters.

For me, improvisation means comedy. As a high-school student in the late ’80s and early ’90s, improvisation meant Whose Line Is It Anyway? (the original, English version), a show in which comedians produced absurdity on the fly from audience suggestions. It was within the last seven or eight years I learned most of the comedic institutions I hold so dear (Whose Line Is It Anyway?, Saturday Night Live, SCTV, The Second City) were born from the improvisational theater games developed by Viola Spolin—an American theater educator and acting coach—as a means for stimulating creativity in children and adults. In fact, I consider her book Improvisation for the Theater: A Handbook of Teaching and Directing Techniques the text for improvised theater. But my personal journey with improvisation did not begin with comedy or even theater. My journey began with science!

In early 2017, I heard a podcast interview with actor Alan Alda. Alda improvised early in his career (including with Spolin) and, as host of the television show Scientific American Frontiers, he realized scientists could improve their ability to communicate with nonscientists from training in improvisation. He wrote a book about it (If I Understood You, Would I Have This Look on My Face?) and, along with the Stony Brook University School of Communication and Journalism, developed the Alan Alda Center for Communicating Science, employing techniques from applied improvisation. But what is applied improvisation?

The Applied Improvisation Network defines the term as “the use of principles, tools, practices, skills, and mindsets of improvisational theater in nontheatrical settings that may result in personal development, team building, creativity, innovation, and/or meaning.”

In other words, applied improvisation is the application of theater games and exercises to help us stretch our boundaries by becoming comfortable with the uncomfortable, including taking risks, making mistakes, and exhibiting vulnerability. Put another way, applied improvisation is the “other AI,” the one that does not lead to computers taking our jobs, running amok, and the end of life and the world as we know it. (Yes, that was a joke at the expense of artificial intelligence. Your move, robots.)

I was intrigued. I found a six-week class, Fundamentals of Improv Comedy for Scientists, in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, and have been hooked ever since. That was seven years ago and many classes and performances since!

While I do perform locally for the benefit of making myself and others laugh, applied improvisation has numerous benefits to my career as a scientist. It has allowed me to become confident in my own knowledge and abilities, granting me control of my imposter syndrome and freeing me from the need to overprepare to “get things perfect.” It is the ideal reinforcement to my leadership style, which seeks collaboration, stresses openness to new ideas, encourages others to actively contribute, and serves and supports others when things do not go as planned (as typically happens).

These tangible benefits led me to advocate for a pilot two-hour workshop in applied improvisation during my first meeting with members of the Biopharmaceutical Section Leadership-in-Practice Committee. Members of the committee were curious about this style of teaching and, after a three-page proposal and additional online discussion, they decided to take a chance on the idea.

I reached out to Jill Eickmann, cofounder, artistic director, and director of corporate training at Leela Improv Theatre Company. Leela has a 20-year history in San Francisco and recently established an East Coast training center in Raleigh, North Carolina. The company appealed to me since they had provided similar workshops to employees of Genentech, Google, and LinkedIn, among other science and technology companies.

Jill was open to and supportive of the idea of introducing applied improvisation to (bio)statisticians and data scientists and, with some additional planning and discussion, the event was scheduled for the evening of June 18.

I, along with fellow committee member Rakhi Kilaru, reached out to fellow quantitative scientists in the area in the hope they would take a chance on this novel opportunity. In the end, 14 people ranging from graduate school to late career and working for contract research organizations, consultancies, pharmaceutical companies, universities, a coordinating center, a science foundation, and a software company participated.

The evening began with introductions in a familiar setup—chairs organized in a circle facing the center—giving everyone equal opportunity to view and react to everyone else. Jill introduced herself and, after each person introduced themselves, we repeated names as a group until we reached the start of the circle. This way, we could more easily refer to each other by name over the next two hours. Once complete, we reviewed our goals for the evening, including team building, communication, presentation, and leadership. As a group, we agreed to the following rules to guide the evening:

1. Choose to have fun
2. Play from kindness and mutual respect
3. Embrace a judgment- and consequence—free space
4. Commit to group presence
5. Timeouts encouraged if unsafe

For the last point, each participant would determine what was uncomfortable and what was unsafe for themselves. Everyone was invited to lean into spaces that felt uncomfortable, since that is the sweet spot for learning. If at any time something felt unsafe, people were encouraged to give a big “timeout” to have their boundaries honored.

The time disappeared quickly and I was sorry for the evening to end.

Over the following two hours, we engaged in more than a half dozen physical and verbal group and paired exercises, pulling us out of our comfort zones and stretching our willingness to engage, share, and communicate. We built connections with one another, became mindful of our inner critics, and empowered our inner cheerleaders to take the steering wheel. We trained ourselves to react quickly and convincingly to the absurdity happening around us. We learned firsthand that the same presentation can be interpreted in many ways, all of which are correct. We learned to build off one another and expand our ideas together. We also became ‘experts’ in areas for which we had limited to no knowledge (e.g., cheese making or antiques sales) so we could discuss these topics with authority and confidence. After each exercise, Jill debriefed everyone to illustrate that the fun we were having contained useful lessons that could be applied to everyday work pursuits.

The time disappeared quickly and I was sorry for the evening to end. It is a common saying in improvisation that the performance or event you are enjoying is one of a kind, never to be experienced the same way again. Sure, Jill could repeat the same exercises with a new group or audience, but each new group of participants would contribute unique energy, emotion, background, and personal history, and the interactions of each person contributing to the whole would build something new and unique.

Now, because I am a biostatistician, I sent out a brief survey to gain feedback and data on the workshop. I received eight responses (out of 13, or 61.5% of participants; I did not complete one). All respondents gave the highest rating possible for the workshop. Reasons for taking the course were varied and included “stepping out of my comfort zone,” “improving thinking on my feet,” “gaining confidence,” and “improving communication.” Not surprisingly, participants expressed their love for personally meaningful exercises, several wished the workshop were longer, and many said they were willing to be pushed further. Everyone agreed the evening was a success and their colleagues would benefit from similar training.

It has been a few weeks since the workshop ended. I am grateful it was a success, and I am thankful the committee and Biopharmaceutical Section took a chance on this innovative leadership and communication training. Hopefully, there will be more opportunities for (bio)statisticians and data scientists to play—and develop important skills along the way.