DATE: Wednesday, August 13, 1997            TAG: 9708130050

SECTION: DAILY BREAK             PAGE: E1   EDITION: FINAL 

SOURCE: BY ADAM BERNSTEIN, STAFF WRITER 

                                            LENGTH:   89 lines

CLASS CLOWNS HUMOR STUDENTS AT ODU DELIVER LAUGHS FOR GRADES IN STAND-UP FINAL EXAM.

FOR THEIR final exam, the green comics stood naked before us.

The us was a daunting collective of fellow students, friends, family and total strangers. And we watched them, student comedians, climb a few steps to the stage, grip and rock the podium, then deliver.

The 50-member audience waited for the pitch. One by one, the neophytes rose, baring their funny bones.

Brigitta Chia was the first guinea pig. ``You must all be nervous,'' she said softly, skillfully disarming the crowd. ``It's your first time in front of me.''

Chia, a child of the '60s, said she was a nontraditionally aged student. That means, she explained, she's older than dirt.

While enrolled at Old Dominion University, she said, she had to learn the new student patois: How's it hangin'? What's up, ``Hey, dude, whatcha takin?'' she replied: ``Estrogen replacement therapy, but it's none of your business.''

Later, Daniel Fears came before us, another older-than-dirt student.

``After 17 years, 11 months and five days, I've graduated from college,'' he said. ``You may ask me why it's taken so long. Well, it took six years just to find a parking space.''

So flowed the evening last Wednesday at the humor writing final exam. All students were required to perform a stand-up skit, which counted for 20 percent of the grade. Their fate was in our hands, literally.

Grading went like this, said instructor Chris Lamb: A standing ovation earned an A. Enthusiastic applause rated a B. Polite applause meant a C. If people threw fruits and vegetables, the unlucky performer got socked with an F.

However, Lamb was not heartless. ``If the fruits and vegetables are edible, the grade is bumped up to a D,'' he dead-panned.

It's the first time in five years this class has seen the light of day, and it will likely continue sometime this academic year, said English department officials.

But it will go on without Lamb, who has accepted a teaching job at the College of Charleston in South Carolina.

Of Lamb's 18 summer students, not one went unapplauded or unstanding ovated.

Especially Ann Marie DeMaio, 55, probably the funniest accountant in Hampton Roads. Which doesn't say much, except that she really was funny.

Like the old film actor Edgar Kennedy, DeMaio had perfected the ``slow burn.''

After sauntering to the stage with a few handbags containing pills and toilet paper - identifying them as the items that get her through the day - she said in a grandmotherly drawl, ``I'm only standing here because my teacher is threatening me.''

She said she feels a close kinship with her grandchildren: She and they use diapers and have wrinkles.

Only a joke.

Sex, marriage and school life were among the more popular riffs.

Ever hear the one Ken Papenfuss, 41, of Chesapeake told?

``I said to my wife, men who have sex more often have lower rates of testicular cancer. My wife says, `Oh, no problem, our HMO covers testicular cancer.' ''

The class was originally started at ODU in 1988 by Fred Talbott, a former English professor who was regularly contributing jokes to comedian Dennis Miller, then performing his Weekend Update segment on ``Saturday Night Live.''

Finding the ODU administration receptive, Talbott based the humor writing class on an idea first credited in the early 1980s to Mel Helitzer, an instructor at the University of Ohio.

``You gain confidence, the ability not to take yourself too seriously, adaptability, courage,'' Talbott said in a phone interview last week. ``It's vital.''

Student Bob Hembree sure was couragous - courageous as hell? - to tackle the role of Jesus.

A long-haired fellow who wore what appeared to be a bedsheet, Hembree walked gallantly to the podium and announced, ``I told you I'd be back.''

During the skit, an audience member sneezed, to which Hembree called out, ``Bless you.''

It was an inventive, intuitive call.

With moments like that, one got the impression the students were loose and confident. But ask any of them. No final is a joke. ILLUSTRATION: [Color Photos]

BETH BERGMAN

The Virginian-Pilot

Above, instructor Chris Lamb finds a student's joke amusing. Top,

Kiersten Vitale delivers her final-exam monologue.

JOHN C. BELL / The Virginian-Pilot

LaShawn Patterson cracks up during the comic monologue by her

mother, Ann Marie DeMaio.

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