This Camp’s a Joke and the Kids Wouldn’t Want It Any Other Way
The summer camp bills itself as “the only place that funny kids can learn to write and perform their own original stand-up comedy routines.” And make fun of Mom.


At 14 years old, Willem Vaishville is too young to be admitted to New York City’s liquor-fueled comedy clubs. But despite his tender age, he is already cutting his teeth as a stand-up comic. Willem spends a good part of each week coming up with new jokes, learning to distance himself properly from a mic while performing, and developing a strategy to pursue if a joke falls flat (“You can just move on to the next thing and try a bit that you know works better”).
Since Willem was 11 years old, he has been attending classes offered by Kids ’N Comedy, a training ground for aspiring stand-up comedians. The Manhattan-based firm offers stand-up comedy classes, and the opportunity to perform, to tweens and teens ages 10 to 18. This summer, Willem, now an eighth-grader, will be returning to Camp Kids ’N Comedy, the company’s own show-biz version of traditional summer camp, for the third time.
The camp, which boasts of being “the only place that funny kids can learn to write and perform their own original stand-up comedy routines,” is intensive. Taught by professional stand-up comics, the camp offers three different two-week sessions (starting July 7, July 21, and Aug. 4), which run Monday through Friday, from noon until 4 p.m. (Some campers attend only one session, while others attend more.) The campers, numbering about 40 each summer, attend classes at the Gotham Comedy Club at 208 W. 23rd St. Tuition for each two-week session is $1,650. On the last day of each session, the campers perform in a stand-up comedy show for their friends and family.
Kids ’N Comedy was the brainchild of Jo Ann Grossman, a former sweater designer and craftsperson, and her husband, Stu Morden, a commercial real-estate broker. Grossman is now the president and director. The couple founded the business in 1996, and the camp grew out of it in 2005.
Is it possible for a youngster to have a calling to be a stand-up comedian? You bet, says Grossman: “A lot of these kids watch every comedian on YouTube.” Some are from show-biz families, but many are not.
Can you make a kid funny or does that need to be in their DNA? Grossman is realistic. “I think you have to have that funny bone,” she says. “You’ve got to have that way of looking at the world to be able to bring this out. It’s not just there for everybody.” What if a child is hopelessly wrong for this profession? “If I feel like it’s not going to work, I’ll tell the parents.”
Sometimes, a kid comes into the program with obvious star quality. “They’re so full of personality and they’re so comfortable up on the stage. But not everybody’s like that.” Grossman views Willem as having the gift. “He’s a riot,” she marvels. “He is so funny. I don’t know where these ideas come from in his head. People love him and I can’t get him off the stage.”
Watching a recent set by Willem confirms that. He takes the stage confidently, with the authority and mannerisms of someone older. His self-crafted jokes about his mother, not an unusual topic for older members of his chosen profession, resonate with the young audience members. He tells the audience that she is in human resources, and that it affects her parenting style: “Whenever I mess up, she tries to fire me.” Likewise, he says, Mom has told his brother, “Boy, is your contract up!”
Willem admits, “I’m a little scared every single time,” a feeling that’s undoubtedly shared by his elders in the profession. “But I love making people laugh. It just makes me very happy to be able to be a part of that.” Willem has already performed at several outside charity fundraisers.
Sarah O’Connell Vaishville is at once Mom, manager, No. 1 fan, and critic. She’s there at every performance, supporting Willem as well as his young counterparts. “I cheer for every single kid, because it’s the most vulnerable art form there is. It’s just you and a microphone. And the people are like two feet away from you, and they’re just looking at you.”
At 14, Willem’s interests are not limited to comedy. He also likes playing basketball and volleyball, neither of which is offered at this summer camp. But for the type of kid who dreams of being the next John Mulaney (Willem’s personal comic hero) or Jerry Seinfeld, this camp offers something far more alluring.
“I cheer for every single kid, because it’s the most vulnerable art form there is. It’s just you and a microphone.” Sarah O’Connell Vaishville, Willem’s mom