Recently, a former student emailed asking, “I took a different comedy class (scheduling, sorry!) and the instructor told me my jokes felt ‘old-fashioned’ and wouldn’t work with audiences. Now I’m wondering… does that mean I should just quit?”
My answer: One comedy teacher not liking your jokes does not mean you should quit comedy. (Even if that teacher were me — which it wasn’t. I try to focus on what’s working and how to make it stronger.) All this means is: one comedy teacher didn’t like your jokes. Which is annoying, yes. Possibly useful, perhaps. A divine verdict from the Council of All Laughter? No.
That said, if someone says your jokes feel “old-fashioned,” it’s worth asking what they actually mean. Do they mean the references are dated? The rhythm feels too setup-punchline in a way that sounds written instead of spoken? The premise feels like it belongs to a different era? Or do they just mean, “This isn’t my taste,” but with more confidence and less usefulness?
The better question is not, “Should I quit?” The better question is: what am I really trying to say here, and what is the funny part? Once you know that, you can usually update the joke without betraying yourself. Sometimes one word, one reference, or one sharper angle makes the same idea feel more current. You’re not getting a comedy facelift. You’re just changing the lighting.
And sometimes the answer is: don’t hide the old-fashioned part. Use it. If your style is a little retro, formal, theatrical, cranky, wholesome, vaudevillian, whatever — great. Make that part of the joke. Let the audience know you’re in on it. “I know this sounds like it was written on a telegram, but stay with me.” Now the thing that sounded like a flaw becomes part of your point of view.
So no, don’t quit because one class didn’t click. Quit only if you genuinely don’t enjoy it anymore. But if you still like writing, performing, figuring out what makes people laugh, and occasionally humiliating yourself under fluorescent lighting for personal growth, then keep going. Find the version of your style that works in front of today’s audiences — not because someone told you to become someone else, but because the goal is to become the funniest version of you.