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A-HED

‘Oh, My God, Where Is This Going?’ When


Computer-Science Majors Take Improv
Northeastern University forces students to come out of their shells and exercise creative play in front of
classmates before getting their diploma

By Sara Castellanos
May 14, 2019 11:12 am ET

BOSTON—Getting a computer-science degree at Northeastern University is no joke.


One class was especially nerve-racking for Colin Mullaney, even more so than theory of
computation or object-oriented design.
You’ll laugh, you’ll cry

“I put it off to the end,” said Mr. Mullaney, who graduated this spring with a combined
degree in computer science and mathematics. As part of the dreaded class, he mimicked
elephant noises, imitated Michael Jackson dance moves and had to grunt in front of
classmates while playing the role of a Viking rowing a boat.

Like all computer-science majors at Northeastern, Mr. Mullaney was required to take a
course in theater and improv. And, like others, “I was afraid,” he said. He fought off
anxiety by trying not to think about it outside of class.

Many computer-science types say they would rather work at a screen than chat face to
face. Others hate drawing attention to themselves. In the improv class, “The Eloquent
Presenter,” computer-science majors not only cozy up with peers, but work in groups and
take turns in the spotlight.

The course requires public speaking, lecturing on such nontechnical topics as family
recipes. Students also learn to speak gibberish—“butuga dubuka manala phuthusa,” for
instance.

The class is a way to “robot-proof” computer-science majors, helping them sharpen


uniquely human skills, said Joseph E. Aoun, the university president. Empathy, creativity
and teamwork help students exercise their competitive advantage over machines in the
era of artificial intelligence, according to Mr. Aoun, who wrote a book about it.

Not everyone thought it was a good idea. “We saw a lot of hysterics and crying,” when
the class was made mandatory in 2016, said Carla E. Brodley, dean of the Khoury
College of Computer Sciences.

Instructor Samantha Richert leads students last month during a session of “The Eloquent Presenter” class at
Northeastern University in Boston. PHOTO: KAYANA SZYMCZAK FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNAL

Zach Lowen postponed it until his senior year. On his first day, he had to pretend he was
ice skating and walking on hot sand. “I was like, ‘Oh, my God, where is this going?’” he
said.

Mr. Lowen didn’t get stage fright while miming a scene of betrayal between warring drug
cartels. But he turned stiff during a mock interview in front of a video camera. “I wasn’t
sure where to look,” he said. The professor asked him “who was holding me hostage,”
Mr. Lowen recalled.

Caitlin Wang, a junior also majoring in computer science, likes to plan and be prepared,
she said, which makes improvising scary: “I don’t know what’ll happen, what I’ll say, or
how people will react,” Ms. Wang said.

She willed herself into enrolling this spring and had some surprise triumphs: portraying
Simba in a 30-second version of “The Lion King,” and singing part of a TED Talk given
by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of ”Eat, Pray, Love.”
“I had no idea what tune I should have been singing,” Ms. Wang said.

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Like other tough courses, this one has paid dividends for some alumni.

Tiffany Seeber, class of 2016, said when she took it everybody had to assemble
themselves into a human Rube Goldberg machine. The touch of an arm would set another
person’s leg in motion, and the leg would initiate the movement of someone pretending
to turn a wheel. “I couldn’t figure out how this was going to relate to what I was going to
be doing full-time,” she said.

Ms. Seeber, now a software engineer at Uber, sometimes strikes a “power pose” before
presentations—shoulders back, chest elongated, weight evenly distributed—a skill she
learned in the class. When speaking, she walks slowly from side to side, to engage more
people in the audience.

“I don’t know any software engineer that doesn’t have to do presentations,” she said.

Bryan Wehner, left, and Edwin Cowart during an improv class at Northeastern University in
Boston. PHOTO:KAYANA SZYMCZAK FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNAL

Dani Calacci, who took the class in 2016, is co-founder of workplace technology startup
Riff Learning Inc. He said the absurdity of the class helped students learn to bond. One
assignment required him to help a classmate stretch to stand up straight. “I really enjoyed
it, actually,” he said.
Other professionals agree that improv can teach the teamwork and communication
required of working with others. Many software applications now are built in small
teams, a collaboration of engineers, writers and designers.

The Northeastern class is taught by professors with a theater background. Nearly 800
computer-science majors have taken it, and few beg to opt out. There are few chairs or
desks in the room. Students can role-play one day or toss around imaginary objects. One
class had students stare into a classmate’s eyes for 60 seconds. If someone laughed, you
had to try again.

An assignment this spring required students to tell a joke. Brennan Kinnel told one
involving beer, a king and lions. The off-color punchline drew “the worst possible
outcome imaginable,” he said. No one laughed.

“Everyone else’s joke at least got a chuckle,” said Mr. Kinnel, who graduated this month
and hopes to find more success as a web developer.

Catherine McLean, left, and Eric Gift perform an improv warm-up last month at Northeastern University in
Boston.PHOTO: KAYANA SZYMCZAK FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNAL

Catherine McLean walked into the class a skeptic. “The stereotype is that we can’t talk to
people and we’re nerds and wear hoodies,” she said.
Over time, she learned about using the voice’s volume and pitch, as well as being more
comfortable conversing about a subject without being an expert. She had to argue for the
legitimacy of astrological signs, a stretch for any computer-science major.

“It certainly would have been a lot worse if nobody laughed,” she said.

Write to Sara Castellanos at sara.castellanos@wsj.com

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