Four Simple, Possibly-Constructive-Albeit-Kind-of-Ranty Rules for Yoga Teachers.
I have 5 truly phenomenal yoga teachers, all now at Twisted Trunk Yoga in Soho, who have been in my life for years (Sara, Laura, Susanna, Dana, Vanessa. Also Andrea Frade is emerita on this list). Several friends of mine are also very strong new teachers. Then there's almost everyone else I've ever taken a class with, who should read this. These rules count triple for subs.
1a. It's Not About You
Have you been incorporating a lot of twists into your practice lately? Maybe you recently mastered tricky inversion, or discovered an expansive variation?
That's great! Good for you!
However, this is an OPEN CLASS. I am (I'll just speak for myself but I believe I have the people with me) here to do my practice, NOT YOURS.
Before class, look at your sequences, and pull a Coco Chanel - remove one layer of difficulty. Think to yourself, is this a practice that meets my students where they're at? Or is this a practice for me?
I just experienced a class where every standing pose involved either a one-legged balance or a deep twist. You're a yoga teacher, not a bartender. Not everything needs to be shaken with a twist. There is PLENTY of challenge in most of the asanas, particularly if we're all still learning how to inhabit and transition between basic poses.
Want to build towards a big pose? No such thing as too much handstand prep. L-pose is pretty foolproof AND plenty challenging. Heck, Warrior Three is big time for a lot of us. Aardha Chandrasana was the bane of my existence until literally a week ago. Sorry, am I boring you? Oh well! It's NOT YOUR PRACTICE.
1b. Teach Your Students
Which brings me to part two of this rule: Maybe you had visions of a really kickass practice as you planned out this class. But if people are falling over in triangle pose, MAYBE take it down a notch! Perhaps instead of side crow, just have us try regular crow! NotSorry that doesn't match your perfectly planned theme! You might just have to...what's the word?...ADJUST.
Here's the other thing: You are in a position of great power. A dozen people have consented to do whatever you tell them to do for 90 minutes, without a lot of space to speak up or push back on your instructions. What you need to do with that soapbox is normalize and validate whatever we need to do to engage with the practice. This includes:
- Don't merely introduce but celebrate the use of props. You should emanate genuine appreciation and delight that I am using blocks. It means I have ownership over my practice (which, again, is not yours).
- Sticking with basic poses long enough that I truly feel it's ok to remain in them, not just a stopover en route to the "real" pose.
- Spend a lot of time explaining setup for major poses. When you breeze through setup, it makes me feel like I should just slide right into these QUITE ADVANCED poses. Get granular, explain different techniques of getting into the pose, affirm again and again that even failed or stalled attempts are important methods of doing the pose.
- Pace rests generously in the practice - put them earlier than you might take them for yourself. This way, you build our trust that you understand how much we are challenging ourselves and you honor that effort instead of taking it for granted.
- End poses when the majority of people seem ready. Don't have us hold for "one more breath" because your machismo/a demands it. This only builds resentment towards you and self-consciousness within me.
Tip: How do you know I'm starting to resent you? You've heard of hate-fucking, I'm here to tell you that hate-breathing is a thing.
2. The Asana is the Message
You can talk all the talk you want about sweetness/kindness/playfulness/forgiveness/you name it.
But if you are too eager to up the variation ante, or if you are too focused on the outward performative manifestations of asanas than whether or not people are breathing, you are not communicating those principles.
You have to show that you get the practice, not just mouth the nice-sounding principles while otherwise communicating that you expect athletic dedication.
Just as the inner and outer body need to be connected, your words need to be manifested in how you instruct and guide our physical movements. Laugh about falling.
3. Be Funny
Which brings me to my last substantive point. Personally, the more humor, especially self-deprecating humor, that you bring into the room, the more I connect with you as an authentic human who I trust to guide my body into a deeper connection with its capacities. Get in touch with your inner Hanuman. Self-seriousness (or oblivious chipperness) belies disconnection. We're all here to play and feel good about what we're allowing ourselves to do and feel. We all look like idiots, albeit sacred, glorious idiots.
4. FFS Let Us Do Savasana Already
Let's say you've led a gratuitously difficult practice with a saccharine demeanor, completely disconnected from the needs and presences of the students in class. Subsequently, it is AWFULLY presumptuous of you to say "we" are going to meditate for several minutes before savasana.
Nah, friend, *you* can do what you feel, but honestly, a nice long savasana goes a long way in rebuilding good will.
NAMASTE.