Knock Knock

Frist 302. Home of Einstein, his groundbreaking Theory of Relativity and, now, stand-up comedy. For the past five weeks, 11 students have gathered in this room with instructor Aaron Haber to commence in “infecting Einstein’s room ... with laughter.” Using the skills learned in the class, students will perform at the World Comedy Club in New York City on Apr. 14. Haber, a professional comedian, has taught the students an equation of his own — the secrets of stand-up.

Before Haber even said anything to me, I got the idea that he was unique. He was wearing a black and white checkered fedora with a black button-down, a blazer and jeans. He told me he was intrigued by my pencil and paper note-taking method and the hair bands on my wrist. This may seem odd, but it made sense when he explained his inspiration in comedy. “I am wired differently, so I write from a different point of view,” Haber said. “A comedian’s job is to look at everything and see it in 10 different ways. I guess, in one word, I am bizarre.”

Aaron Haber has known he was funny since he was a kid. He was the troublemaker and class clown because, he says, “I loved getting attention, and what better way to get attention than to be funny?” He started out doing comedy in a program at his elementary school, which let him learn improv and avoid his homework — both wins in his book. From there he continued being funny, performing with Chicago’s Second City and working with Del Close, who is considered a founding father of modern improv.

Today, Haber is something of a comic renaissance man. Not only is he a stand-up comedian who has been on Comedy Central, but he also runs his own club in New York City, is the host of the monthly comedy series at the legendary New York Friars Club and is the editor-in-chief of evilnewsdaily.com, a blog written by supervillains. Contributors to the site include the Nefarious Mustache, Dr. Yesterday and Peg-Eye the Pirate, the result of an unfortunate visit to the optometrist. Haber seems to have a bit of a pirate fetish. His favorite joke is: “A pirate walks into a bar with a steering wheel attached to the front of his pants. The bartender says ‘Doesn’t that steering wheel bother you? I mean, it’s just hanging there.’ The Pirate responds, ‘Arrr, it’s drivin’ me nuts.’ ”

A few minutes before the start of class, students began to trickle in. The lone microphone stand at the front of the room made this class feel like something very different from what usually happens in Frist 302: lecturing professors, PowerPoints and complex equations on the chalkboard. The chatty atmosphere died down as Haber began talking, and the room became silent when he asked for a volunteer to go first.

I will admit that I was skeptical of what I would see in the next two hours. Sure, I think Princeton students are smart, good writers and occasionally funny. But I think combining all of those aspects into one performance, on top of adding in stage presence, is exceedingly difficult, especially for students who are used to being completely prepared for things. I should have known that, like most things at Princeton, people are just straight-up talented — no matter the discipline.

One by one, students volunteered to perform their original three-minute sets. The jokes they made ranged from awkwardly meeting people in revolving doors to nun porn. I was impressed by the sheer courage of each participant to get up and perform their own work in front of their peers. That isn’t even taking into account the fact that you are supposed to be making people laugh. It was great when a joke elicited a hearty laugh from the audience but also painstakingly obvious when a joke did not hit its mark. This is where Haber came in, giving each student feedback after their set. He gave advice for tightening delivery and rewording punch lines: Always start and end with your strongest jokes. Other advice included: “You know that makes you sound like a douche, right?” and “Thick skin is something you need as a comic. Not literally — [remember to] moisturize. But figuratively.” Every line had the potential to be a punch line, and the easy banter throughout the class could have easily been its own routine.

Each student seemed to enjoy his or her moment in the spotlight, free to make people laugh and learn in a completely unusual Princeton environment. Students had their own reasons for taking the class. As Alex Judge ’14 said, “Stand-up is something I have been wanting to try out but never would have been able to do on my own.” The overwhelming reasoning that these students wanted to add one more class to their already busy schedules is simple: fun.