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Growing up in L.A., Samantha Linderman’s middle school was three blocks away from the Los Angeles School of Comedy, but she was always too intimidated to step inside.
Linderman was 19 when she finally worked up the courage to try her hand at stand-up. Calling the L.A. School of Comedy led to a direct line with founder Sunda Croonquist. Linderman took her first class four days later and was already onstage the next day. Four years later, she’s pursuing stand-up professionally and working at the very same comedy club as a “concierge of comedy,” handling bookings and leading youth classes.
Though she dreams of a career like Adam Sandler’s, she knows she’s coming up in an industry that’s drastically different from the one that shaped the stars before her.
The classic paths to Hollywood are dissolving in real time, driven by media consolidation, advancements in AI and a fundamental shift in the younger generation’s attention toward vertical, creator-led, short-form content. Many mid- and late-career working-class comics who would normally build the bridge to younger generations are struggling to make a living. And those who remain frequently question how much guidance they can offer in a landscape where the rules have become unrecognizable and technology is moving faster than they can keep up.
Yet, Linderman, who spent her late teenage years navigating the COVID-19 pandemic, said “mentors now are more important than ever.” Young people crave in-person connections and experiences, she said.
Seasoned female comics like Croonquist, who have navigated the industry’s ups and downs firsthand, are among those steering comedy mentorship programs. Comedy Playground, founded by Susanna Spies in 2002, began with showcases at the Hollywood Improv and currently offers classes in North Hollywood, and the Crow, founded by Nicole Blaine and her husband Mickey, opened in Santa Monica in 2022.
Samantha Linderman recently started hosting shows at the L.A. School of Comedy.
(Jason Hamm / L.A. School of Comedy)
Spies’ parents were educators, and while she was building her career as a comic, she worked as an eighth-grade drama teacher and developed a stand-up curriculum. In addition to Comedy Playground, she’s taught her stand-up programs to underserved youth, including those in detention centers, through a collaborative project called Comedy Unlocked, and in countries of conflict with Seeds of Peace International Camp.
Nicole Blaine of the Crow (which stands for “Comedy Reflects Our World”) has a degree in both theater and elementary education. When she and her husband, a high school theater, launched their comedy club at the Bergamot Station Arts Center, schools and businesses were reopening after the pandemic. They started a youth camp right away.
“All these children that have been completely isolated and silenced during the pandemic, what’s their story?” she said. She wanted the camp to help youth discover the power of their voices.
For both Blaine and Spies, the work is as much about building personal resilience and confidence in the next generation as it is about teaching joke-writing.
Comedy Playground’s youth programs serve ages 10 to 19. L.A. School of Comedy’s Kids Comedy Workshop caters to ages 8 to 16. The Crow runs a stand-up comedy camp for 7-12-year-olds, a six-week intensive tween program and a showcase called “The Kids Are Fine, Not Great” that pairs college comics and professionals.
Comedy Playground’s curriculum incorporates stand-up, led by Spies, which helps kids find their own voice, and improv, led by Katey Mushlin, which teaches them how to work with others and create meaningful bonds, Spies explained.
The stand-up curriculum includes simple prompts to help them discover their unique points of view. What’s your pet peeve? What would be on your bumper sticker? What is your life motto?
The Crow co-founder Nicole Blaine and young comic Rafa Alvarez Cartagena. Blaine said stand-up teaches kids how to turn dark into light.
(Kiel Phillips)
As the kids learn to become comfortable on stage, it grows into a platform for them to share who they are. “They’re also free to get their frustrations out in a safe way,” Spies said.
Studies have increasingly shown comedy to be a powerful therapeutic tool. Laughing lowers levels of cortisol, the stress hormone.
A 2026 study from the journal Mental Health and Social Inclusion describes stand-up comedy as a “powerful medium for reframing traumatic experiences, fostering social connectedness and enhancing emotional resilience.”
Scholars like Dieter Declercq, author of “Satire, Comedy and Mental Health,” have connected stand-up to cognitive coping mechanisms. In the same way that cognitive behavioral therapy teaches patients to recontextualize their thoughts and feelings to produce different behaviors, writing stand-up requires people to reexamine their struggles and recontextualize them into punch lines.
Stand-up also teaches kids how to get comfortable with the uncomfortable and how to turn dark into light, Blaine said.
These are life skills that go beyond comedy, and, since opening the Crow, she has seen the positive, and often life-changing, impact on youth in her camp — over and over again.
She recalls the kids who joked about their divorced parents, in the audience, to reassure them that they were going to be OK. The closeted kid who felt empowered to come out during their showcase monologue, only to receive uproarious applause from the crowd. The hyper-parented children who can finally get their intensely strict parents to laugh at the absurdity of their behavior.
For the kids who dream of being professionals, these mentorship programs provide invaluable stage time, sometimes alongside experienced comedians, who they can network with in the green room. Some even offer help with headshots, set recordings, podcast tapings, YouTube streaming and website creation.
“Comedy can be a powerful way to process difficult experiences,” Comedy Playground founder Susanna Spies said.
(The Hollywood Improv Lab)
The 2026 Mental Health and Social Inclusion study also found that stand-up “enables performers, including those with neurodiverse traits, to reclaim personal narratives and engage in peer-supported communities of practice.”
But there are limits, said Spies, who over 25 years has experienced the pride in seeing her students book their dream roles and the challenge of watching them struggle.
There is truth to the adage: “Comedy comes from pain.” According to Psychology Today, “the same neural pathways responsible for generating innovative connections for humor may also create the intense introspection characteristic of depression.”
Stand-up initiatives catered to helping people with mental health challenges include Comedy for Coping, taught by comic Dave Chawner; and Stand Up for Mental Health, led by counselor and comic David Granirer.
“Comedy can be a powerful way to process difficult experiences,” Spies said. “It gives young people a way to express themselves, connect with others and find perspective.”
Though none of the mentors can predict what the future of stand-up comedy holds, the industry is a model of the current creator economy, where performers are now expected to be their own writer, promoter, manager, event planner and digital creator all at once.
Spies always reminds her students that it’s up to them to reinvent the wheel.
Linderman recently started hosting shows at the L.A. School of Comedy. She said it has sharpened her interpersonal skills, forced her to get back on stage even when she’s feeling insecure and taught her how to warm up an audience when the comic immediately before her has bombed.
Though she still feels overwhelmed about the future, she’s excited to explore the possibilities.
She still remembers the moment she finally found the courage to follow her stand-up dreams. She remembers thinking: “If I’m not doing the stuff that scares me, for a good reason, what am I even doing?”
