Improv students — myself included — often feel a need to impress their classmates. We want to show them that we can do an awesome funny voice, a celebrity impersonation or a wacky, scene-stealing character. Sometimes, a peer’s need to impress us couldn’t be more conspicuous; their preconceived choices derail the scene, calling attention to its egregiousness.

I’ve been guilty of it plenty of times. Early in my improv training, I would force anything into a scene just to impress my peers. But the fact is, no one cares. Everyone else is worried about their own insecurities. Our classmates aren’t judges of some imaginary improv contest. Those who do judge us are more than likely dealing with their own host of overwhelming fears.

When we’re busy trying to impress the audience, we’re unable to trust the scene because we’re preoccupied with the contrivances we’ve unfairly brought upon our scene partner. To put it bluntly, we are being selfish. Improv isn’t about us, it’s about the scene. We should make strong choices, but not at the expense of our scene partner. When our moves are made merely to impress people, we’re no longer doing improv — we’re doing a disservice.

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• Don’t take yourself so seriously

Eventually, we must graduate. Like nimble students of magic, we have to find a way to use our powers for the good. The realization will dawn on us that, ultimately, no one can teach us how to use our powers except ourselves. Our improv teachers merely assist us in discovering what skills we’re capable of. Everything else — the who, how and where of it all — is up to us.

I finished Level 6 last term, but rather than moving on to the next level, the final stage in my training at I.O. West, I decided to retake Level 3. I felt I needed more practice with scenework. But perhaps, on some level, I wanted to prolong my training. I didn’t want it to end. Improv is such a capacious art that we’ll never truly stop being students of it, but we can’t rely on the safety of the classroom forever. A bird doesn’t just stay in its cozy nest; it migrates.

Where will I go after I graduate? There are plenty of other theaters in Los Angeles that offer extensive improv training — Second City, UCB, Westside Comedy, Monkey Butler — and I’ll probably enroll in a few once I can afford to, but for the time being, I simply have no idea where I’m headed. I do know, however, what I’ll do when I face the darkness of uncertainty: yes, and.