Titus loves to laugh and make other people laugh, so when the opportunity to learn and perform improv came up, I immediately thought it would be a great fit for him.

Titus, however wanted nothing to do with it.

Like many people, the unknown can be scary. Not knowing what to expect is intimidating for anyone, and when you can’t simply watch what everyone else is doing, it can feel even more overwhelming.

As parents, we’ve learned that many of Titus’ greatest experiences begin with a little pushing and a lot of encouragement. We talked about what improv was, answered as many questions as we could, and I promised him I would be there the entire time to support him however he needed. After a few days—and a very noncommittal “yes”—I signed him up for Adaptive Improv.

Truthfully, I didn’t know what to expect either. We decided we’d simply give it a try.

The First Practice

The first night, everyone gathered at Theatre B. Some participants came with parents, some with caregivers, and others came on their own. We sat together in a large circle, met the teachers, introduced ourselves, and then jumped right into our first improv game.

The game was called Skateboard.

The idea was simple: stand in a circle and pass an imaginary skateboard to the next person using hand motions and sound effects. As Titus’ sighted guide, I stood behind him, showed him the motions, and lightly tapped the shoulder where the “skateboard” was coming from so he’d know when it was his turn.

The teacher held out her hands and asked,

“Does everyone see my skateboard?”

Without missing a beat, Titus replied,

“I can’t.”

The room instantly erupted in laughter.

I honestly think that was the moment everything changed.

He discovered something that night—his blindness wasn’t something that had to hold him back. It could simply become part of the fun.

A 7 Out of 10

On the drive home, I asked him what he thought.

He gave it a 7 out of 10.

That might not sound remarkable but considering he had only played one game after reluctantly agreeing to go in the first place, it felt like a huge win.

The Skateboard story became the highlight of our week. We retold it to family and friends, always getting another laugh. Then we taught his dad and brother the game, and before long we were playing it around the dinner table.

Finding Confidence

The following week, most parents waited in the hallway while practice took place. I stayed inside to continue serving as Titus’ sighted guide.

One of the things I appreciated most about Adaptive Improv was how inclusion was woven into everything they did.

Participants shared the adaptive equipment they used—wheelchairs, walkers, braces, canes—and talked about how they wanted others to interact with them.

When it was Titus’ turn, he explained that he uses a white cane and me as his sighted guide.

Then he confidently told everyone,

“Please don’t grab my cane.”

I loved hearing him say that.

Many people grab a blind person’s cane because they think they’re helping, not realizing it’s an extension of the person’s body and one of their greatest tools for independence.

Watching Titus confidently advocate for himself was just as meaningful as watching him perform.

Over the following weeks, he learned more improv games, and every new game came home with us. We’d play them around the dinner table, laughing together as a family.

The little boy who had been hesitant to even walk through the theater doors was now looking forward to every rehearsal.

He laughed freely.

He became comfortable being goofy in front of others.

He went from quietly observing to eagerly jumping into scenes, impatiently waiting for another chance to perform.

His confidence grew right alongside his friendships.

Opening Night

The teachers, staff, and fellow performers created something truly special.

They built a place where everyone belonged.

A place where everyone was encouraged.

A place where everyone could succeed.

As the performances drew closer, Titus proudly invited friends and family to come watch. He couldn’t wait to show everyone what he’d been learning.

When opening weekend finally arrived, I know there were butterflies—even if he’d never admit it.

Then he stepped onto the stage.

One of the games was called “Where Have You Been?”

Another actor asked him,

“Where have you been?”

Without hesitation, Titus answered,

“I’ve been here the whole time.”

Then he added,

“Now who’s the one who can’t see?”

The audience burst into laughter.

I looked over and saw the biggest smile on his face.

It was pure joy.

Why This Meant So Much

Most people only saw the confident boy standing on stage making everyone laugh.

They didn’t see the nerves beforehand.

They didn’t see the convincing it took to get him to try.

They didn’t see the uncertainty that almost kept him from experiencing something he now loves.

As his mom, those behind-the-scenes moments made the performance even more meaningful.

Watching him grow in confidence, think on his feet, make impromptu jokes, and willingly put himself in front of an audience filled my heart with so much pride.

Sometimes the hardest part isn’t doing something new.

It’s saying yes to trying.

We are incredibly grateful to the amazing teachers, staff, volunteers, and performers who welcomed Titus so wholeheartedly. Thank you to Theatre B and Hope, Inc. for creating a place where everyone could belong, laugh, and shine.

This experience gave Titus far more than a chance to perform. It gave him confidence, friendships, and memories our family will treasure for years to come.

And if you ask Titus?

I have a feeling he’d give Adaptive Improv much higher than a 7 out of 10 now.