During a recent interview with comedian Joe Dombrowski about his upcoming special “Dad on Arrival,” he was, fittingly, in the middle of it all — juggling new fatherhood in real time. At one point, the conversation turned into a kind of live demonstration: Could Dombrowski feed a highly kinetic infant while delivering funny, thoughtful answers? The answer, unequivocally, was yes.
Raised in Michigan and now based in Seattle, Dombrowski first broke out online with comedy rooted in his life as an elementary school teacher, spinning classroom stories into cathartic, laugh-out-loud moments for educators everywhere — the kind that make you briefly forget about grading backlogs, that mysterious smell in the back of the room and the latest email from the superintendent about cell phone policy. His profile got a major boost after Ellen DeGeneres invited him on her show following his viral spelling-bee prank, but he’s been building a following with both teacher and non-teacher material for more than a decade. His debut 2023 special, “Don’t Eat the Crayons,” leaned fully into classroom chaos and the strange anthropology of parent-teacher conferences.
“Dad on Arrival,” available now on YouTube, marks a shift.
He’s still talking about school. Still talking about students, parents and the general absurdity of being responsible for other human beings. The difference now: that he’s one of the parents — and a brand-new one at that. The material opens up accordingly, moving easily from fertility clinics to colonoscopies to Midwest food cravings to the cultural whiplash of relocating from Michigan to Seattle. Like the best comics, Dombrowski delivers big laughs while sneaking in something deeper: a perspective shaped in real time, somewhere between the classroom and the nursery.
Of course I know better, but when I watched your appearance on “The Late Show with Stephen Colbert” on YouTube ahead of this interview, I couldn’t stop myself from taking a peek at the comments. There were so many lovely ones, including from your frat brothers! One after another saying you were the same person they knew back then. It felt like your entire life was showing up there.
I guess I’m just a mystical gay charmer. [Laughs.] Yeah, the frat. My frat brothers really did pop their heads in on that one, which was funny. They were all on a golf outing the day that aired. Overall, the comments were really positive. I was surprised! There were some loser comments mixed in, but I mean, let the trash take itself out.
Some people just don’t have enough to do.
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Exactly.
I was also struck by how many people from different parts of your life were chiming in.
I know, I love that. If you meet somebody who knows me, they say I’m the same person that you see on stage, off stage. I’m the same person that I’ve always been. And I take pride in that. It’s not a persona, this is just what I do.
One of the things about my comedy is that when you come to my show, no matter who you are, you’re never out of the joke. My show is gay because I am. I’m just talking to you about life. It happens to be through the lens of a gay guy. And when you look out in the audience, it’s a very diverse mix of people.
Even with a newborn, you’re still touring — that’s impressive! How are you doing it?
Yeah. I don’t know how. God bless the grandmas, who are coming in to save the day when I go on the road.
What’s the biggest difference between “Don’t Eat the Crayons” and “Dad on Arrival”?
The evolution from teacher to parent is really unique. I thought I understood kids as a teacher. Now I’m a parent [gulps]. It’s funny when I watch “Don’t Eat the Crayons,” I’m like, “Oh, you really thought you knew, didn’t you?”
I was thinking about that while watching the bit about parent-teacher conferences. I wondered if you’re going to be a different parent in that room than the parents you used to deal with.
Oh, for sure. Because being a teacher was such an eye-opening experience — you see people for who they are at all walks of life. You have these parents come in who are a little jaded, who have a chip on their shoulder.
But now, having to go into parent-teacher conferences — we’re already doing that, interviewing preschools that he’s gonna end up going to — I have to catch myself and be like, “Oh hey, you are that asshole now. Do you remember how those assholes used to talk to you when you were getting paid $25,000 a year?” And now, as a parent, I’m like, they just want the absolute best for their child. It’s the most important thing in the world.
Before the baby arrived, what were you most excited about? And now that the baby is here, what’s been the most exciting — or terrifying — part?
I think that I had rose-colored glasses on more than I ever should have. I didn’t really focus on just how hard it was gonna be. You know all these people who are parents, and you have your own parents, and you’re like, “Well, they survived.”
But holy shit, I’m dying. I’ve never been this tired in my life, and I was not expecting that. You quite literally stop everything. There’s nothing else you can do during that time that they’re awake except be their parent. And it took a quick adjustment. But once you succumb to that, it’s beautiful. And then, it’s really cool to just ignore everything else that’s going on in the world — especially now when there’s such craziness happening — and just focus on your family.
Some of the funniest parts of the special are straight out of the fertility clinic waiting room. What surprised you most about this process for your family?
We found that even in Seattle, the system is clearly built for straight couples. You are quickly reminded you’re living in somebody else’s world. My husband’s name is Morgan and people would say, “Oh well, when she gets here…” I’d be like “Oh yeah, her and her huge clit will be here in just a second.”
You start to realize so many different nuances of being a gay parent: being billed twice on accident because we’re both men and they don’t know who’s the dad. So they’re billing both of the people.
For the most part, people are curious, and we don’t make anyone feel stupid for asking questions. But you are very quickly reminded that we as LGBTQ+ people are out of the loop most of the time, and you just have to navigate that. In my case, it made for hilarious stories that went into the special.
What joke in the special gets the most unexpected but consistent laugh?
There’s one from the first special where I talk about moving to Seattle from Michigan, and I say, “My husband and I were very liberal, we’re very open-minded, but when we moved to Seattle, we looked at each other and said, “Are we Republicans?” That never fails. And from the current special, when I tell people I had to get a colonoscopy and the doctor said, “Hey Joe, this might hurt a little,” and I said, “I think we’re fine.” Never fails.
You’ve also released two crowd-work specials. How did you get good at crowd work?
I’m an extrovert who’s riddled with ADHD. But also, people categorize comedians as crowd-work comics, and that’s not really a thing. If you’re a comedian and you can’t do crowd work, you’re not a comedian. We’re live performers, and anything could happen in the room at any moment. If someone volleys at you, you volley it back.
Being a teacher helped because you never know what’s going to happen in the classroom, and you just have to roll with the punches. My students were basically little drunk adults, and comedy clubs are drunk adults who act like 5 year olds.
You talk in the special about your dad encountering Seattle culture for the first time. Have those conversations with your parents changed over time?
We’ve been here almost nine years now. In the beginning, it was pretty much like walking them around and saying, “Hey, we’re not in a zoo. Just keep to yourself.” But the thing I never thought I’d hear both my parents say is that now that they have their first grandbaby, they realize we are in the best place for us and for our family.
As weird as Seattle might be to them, they know that for the vast majority of people, my baby living with two dads is generally accepted.
What do you miss most about the Midwest?
Jet’s Pizza with ranch dressing, more than anything. Oh my god, that used to run through my veins. Also, the food in general. We don’t have Arabic food over here in Seattle, which is crazy. My mom’s from Dearborn — I grew up on that.
Lastly, if a young gay kid watches your special, what do you hope they take away from it?
It’s so cliche, but it’s so true: If you want to do something, you can. You’re going to get a lot of no’s along the way. But you will find a way to get a yes if you want to get a yes. So the only person who can ultimately tell you a final no is you. So you might as well keep hustling, sister.