December 19, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
Have you ever noticed that yoga teachers really LOVE it when students ask them questions they know an answer for? I haven't quite figured out if we just get questions we don't have answers for so often that we get a little too excited when we actually have a response that might be useful to someone or if it's just an ego thing, but I've been in way too many classes where teachers have just gone on and on (and on) answering one student's question while everyone else sat silently, staring at their toes.
"Oh! You have SI issues! Allow me to tell you (and everyone else waiting for class to begin) EVERYTHING i know about the SI Joint! ... You see, I was reading my anatomy book last week when my SI joint flared up and I found out that sometimes it has to do with a tight psoas. Then I talked to my physical therapist about it .... Let's have you march in place for a minute, so I can show you (and, again, everyone else in the room) what I know."
At this point, all of the other students are waiting politely and genuinely trying to get something out of the demonstration (even though it has nothing to do with them at all), and the poor student who asked the question wants to crawl under a rock. I know this because I ask a lot of questions.
Sometimes the lessons you learn from other teachers aren't particularly positive. Sometimes you learn what NOT to do. As a teacher, I intend to answer only the question that was asked of me, and in a succinct fashion. There is such a thing as too much information.
What things have you learned NOT to do from your teachers?
P.S. Here's an article from Yoga Journal's My Yoga Mentor email newsletter about incorporating silence into your teaching. Silence as a Teaching Tool (http://www.yogajournal.com/for_teachers/2433)
October 27, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
 There are many poses I avoid teaching to my class because the poses are too advanced for the students. And then there are those poses that I omit because, well, I hate them. These are the poses that when they come around in classes that I'm a student, seem like the perfect opportunity to take a break to adjust my pony tail or my yoga pants because that will cut the pose short by at least a breath or two. Then, when I actually make it into the pose, I might be so uncomfortable and frustrated by it I'll mumble profanities under my breath (or at least in my head).
It's not that I intentionally leave out Revolved Triangle and Revolved Half Moon Pose from my class sequences. It's just that when I'm teaching, my mind tends to go to poses that I think would feel good in the moment, and I never think those poses feel good.
I think there are valid reasons for not teaching poses that are like torture. First of all, the last thing I want to do is pass on my disdain for a pose to a group of students who haven't had enough experience with it to form an opinion. And since I don't practice those poses much myself, I may not be able to guide others to find the essence of the pose.
However, if I always omit poses I don't like, my students might never get to experience them—and the joys and frustrations that come with them. I could be depriving them of a pose they desperately need!
So I'm wondering, how do you know when you should teach a pose you hate and when to skip it?
October 17, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
This is an email I wrote to send to my students as an attempt to inspire them to come to my next yoga class. I thought I'd share it with you. DISCLAIMER: It's meant to be fun and playful, not totally serious.
10 Reasons to Do Yoga
1. You noticed your shoulders creeping up toward your ears . . . again. Yoga helps manage physical, mental, and emotional signs of stress.
2. Your yoga mat really brings out the color in your eyes. ;)
3. If someone gives you one more thing to do you feel like your head might explode. Yoga lets you slow down, take deep breaths, and encourages you to do one thing at a time.
4. You're worried about the state of the world. You can make an impact simply by setting an intention, taking care of yourself, and emitting a positive energy into the universe.
5. If you ever want to touch your foot to the top of your head, you better start practicing now.
6. You ate pizza and popcorn for dinner last night. The increased awareness yoga class brings will spill over into other areas of your life—just like the soda you spilled onto your keyboard while you were checking your email.
7. A yoga studio is the perfect place to pick up girls. (If picking up girls isn't your thing, it's also a really great opportunity to make new friends.)
8. Two words: Yoga Butt. You can be of "those people" who look fabulous spandex. And even if you're not, a regular yoga practice will bring out all of your most beautiful features—inside and out.
9. It will make you more popular. Trust me. People will like being around you more when you're calm, balanced, serene, and uplifted from your postyoga buzz.
10. A Monday yoga class will set the tone for a great week! It takes just an hour to align your body, mind, breath, and spirit.
August 19, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
 Once upon a time, in a far away land, a college student sat down at her local Barnes and Noble to flip through Yoga Journal for the first time. She wouldn't dare actually buy the publication, much less anything advertised within it's pages because, frankly, yoga classes were expensive enough. The articles were about massage, organic food, and exotic yoga vacations. Puzzled, the student (OK, it was me) scowled, closed the magazine, and placed it back on the shelf thinking, "Who has the time, money, and dedication to live that kind of lifestyle?"
Fast forward a few years, and today I sit in my Yoga Journal cubical. I do yoga during my lunch break (or when I get home) daily. I get a chair massage once a month. I avoid buying lunch at the salad bar down the street because their kale is not organic. I just had three yoga books delivered to my desk (literally the office manager just handed me the box). I plan to read them during my exotic, tropical vacation in a couple of weeks. (The trip is a special occasion, but you get my point.) I regularly discuss my new Sacroiliac Joint injury or my tired, achy muscles with my yoga friends. They always have new ailments, too.
The argument for expensive yoga classes, monthly massages, Ayurvedic consultations, retreats, conferences, organic food, and trendy yoga clothes is a good one. Health should to be a top priority, and the mindfulness encouraged during a yoga class helps me get there. A heightened awareness of the foods I put into our bodies and my physical weak points should help me live a longer, more fulfilled life, right? And if I don't take care of myself first, how am ever going to have the energy to take care of anybody else and make the world a better place?
The alternate view: I'm spoiled. Rotten. It's all in the name of a healthy, mindful, conscious lifestyle. And it all started with yoga.
Which view is right? When does living a conscious, healthy lifestyle cross the line and turn into a selfish, pampered, princess lifestyle? Do yoga students have a heightened awareness of their intuition and physical pain or are we just whinier?
August 14, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
 After my first experience as a yoga sub, I couldn't wait for my next attempt. If there's one thing I love more than a perfectly aligned pose, it's a second opportunity to redeem myself after I've failed miserably. Luckily, this week the asanas AND the stars aligned for the class I was subbing. It was one of the most fun teaching experiences I'd ever had. Ever!
Unlike last week, I knew when class was scheduled to end, so I planned accordingly. Some of the students who were there to witness my not-so-great class the week before actually came back for more (so it must not have been THAT bad). As an added bonus, one of the students had brought his son with him (so a potential new client for my teen class!) Yay!
I didn't even freak out when one of the students approached me before class to tell me she was in early stages of a pregnancy. (Let me reiterate that one of the reasons I love teaching kids is that I don't really have to worry so much about such things, so it really is quite amazing that I kept my cool.) I just told her what I knew and made sure she knew to modify anything that didn't feel quite right. It ended up being completely fine and she could still do most of the class normally.
In fact, I left the class thinking about how nice it might be to be a full-time sub. Substitutes get all the great reward of teaching—the experience, the paycheck, the warm fuzzy feeling you get from knowing you're helping people. Plus, you get practice modifying for all kinds of injuries and medical conditions, and meet so many more amazing people because you're teaching in varied time slots.
I think the best reason to sub, however , may be that if you put all your energy into doing a great job teaching, you don't have to do all the constant marketing it takes to build your own student base from scratch—something that I loathe. Marketing is the regular teacher's job. As a sub, you just have to show up, do your thing, and bask in the glory! It's brilliant! Anybody need a sub?
Have any of you tested by "full-time sub" theory?
August 7, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
I've never subbed for another teacher before. It's not that I haven't had the opportunity. I was just too scared. Why? All of the students would be total strangers to me, which means I don't know the level of their practice or their injuries. If my teaching style is different from the teacher I'm subbing for, I run the risk of surprising or upsetting the regulars (and I know they'll tell on me when their teacher returns). And let me count the ways adult classes are different from my teen classes. Many of these, I realize, are preconceived notions and generalizations.
1. Adults pay for their classes themselves, not their parents. So they have something invested other than time, and probably even more upset if you don't give them what they think they've paid for.
2. Grown-ups are more likely to be averse to change. Teenagers kind of go with the flow.
3. Adults are stiffer, and thus more fragile, than kids.
4. They have way more injuries and health complications. (The possibility that my teenagers will be pregnant or recovering from a surgery is very slim.)
5. Adults have had the opportunity to do a lot more yoga (and some of them probably know more about it than I do). They will know, and judge me, when I mess up.
6. Adult classes are an hour and a half, my teen classes are an hour. (More on this later.)
So for a very long time, when the opportunity to sub came up. I just wasn't interested. But all of that changed a couple of weeks ago when I got an email from another teacher at my studio who needed a sub for her Saturday morning class. Despite my reservations, I thought a Saturday morning class would be a blast so I agreed, thinking "What's the worst that could happen?"
Well, let me tell you.
I wasn't prepared. I didn't have change. (At my studio we act as the cashier as well as the teacher.) I was nervous. My sequence was all wrong—too many Sun Salutes and energizing poses. I said right when I meant left. All of this is par for the course when you sub a class because you don't know what/who to expect. The biggest mistake of all. I looked up at the clock, and thinking I had ten minutes left in class set them up for a restorative pose. When the students settled into the Supported Child's Pose, I realized that the class wasn't supposed to be over for another half an hour. Oops!
I totally PANICKED! Once you get students into a restorative pose, you can't take them out and have them do active poses again. And even though restorative poses are great, it's not really what you want the focus of a class to be at 10:30 in the morning! But I already had them there, so we did two restorative poses for ten minutes each, then had a long Savasana (Final Corpse Pose).
However, the students' reactions to my mistakes were another surprise. (Trust me, I did not hide them well.) They were anything but judgmental and disappointed. All I saw on their faces was empathy, and maybe just a hint of pity. When they gathered up their belongings to leave the studio, they expressed gratitude for the time to rest. Phew! So even though I messed up (big time), I consider my first experience as a sub a success.
Have you ever had a subbing experience go terribly wrong? What makes a great sub stand out from a not-so-great sub?
July 8, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
I had low expectations for my class yesterday. Last week, not one student showed up. It's been so slow this summer I had been considering taking a hiatus while I re-grouped and put my energy into a marketing campaign for the fall. But, I was sitting in the empty studio, thinking "Why am I even here? No one is coming . . ." a new student waltzed through the doors.
This was not the kind of student I've come to expect . . . It was a BOY student! That's right, the first boy ever to walk through those doors and into my class. His story: he just graduated from high school, and decided to do yoga this summer to complement his baseball training.
This brought a whole new element to the class. My classes usually focus on strength building and relaxing—which I hope will bring balance to my students' naturally bendy bodies. But this is a different body type, and a new and exciting challenge.
What might have been even more gratifying that watching my athlete-student sweat as he learned the art of Chaturanga Dandasana, was watching the student next to him—the first student I ever taught. When she came to my first class more than a year ago she really struggled with the pose. Even with her knees on the floor her back bowed and her arms shook. It was amazing watching her do the full pose with ease as a muscular baseball player struggled.
And just like that my faith in the teaching and learning processes—and in myself—was restored. I can't wait for next week!
June 30, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
I don't like to market my class. I could tell you it's because I think commercialism is killing the soul of yoga, but that would be a lie. The truth is, I just don't have it in me. It's not that I'm lazy, it's just that after working 40+ hours a week doing my regular day job I am tired. And there hasn't been a large enough return on my past efforts at making Myspace accounts, distributing flyers, and posting ads on Criagslist to justify doing it. So about six months ago, I just stopped trying. Amazingly, some folks found my class anyway.
I thought I had found the key to prosperity as a yoga teacher. The bonus, I thought, is that I didn't have to actually put forth any effort. My marketing plan was to just show up with good intentions and let the students find me. Unfortunately, that's not working so well for me during the summer months.
I realized the absurdity of my "marketing plan" last week when I led a special workshop for a group of girls from a local summer camp. (BTW, this was SO MUCH fun!) This was the biggest class I'd ever taught—there were probably 17 people total, all new students for me. When they were leaving, the camp counselor who coordinated the workshop asked if I had business cards I could give to her so she could distribute them to the campers. I didn't. On my way home, I realized I had also forgotten to announce when my normal class was! It's one thing not to go out of your way to promote yourself, but it's completely ridiculous not to when the perfect opportunity arises.
June 16, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
A few weeks ago, I wrote about how I had the opportunity to teach my first ever workshop. I was so excited because it sounded like such a great chance to reach out to new students and for my regular students to go a little deeper than they get to in our 1-hour classes. It seemed like the perfect time to have a workshop. Class attendance was up. Summer break was about to begin. The students who were coming were excited and motivated, and many of them had blossomed—from a basic, beginning practice to a more sophisticated practice. It's sure to be a success story, I thought.
Ironically, as soon as the workshop was added to the schedule, my class attendance dropped dramatically. As it turns out when students get a break for summer, they also take a break from yoga. To add to that, several of my regular students will be studying abroad in the next few months. The workshop was scheduled for Saturday, and as of now, it looks like we'll have to cancel it because no one has signed up. So I'm down, but not out.
Just as my dreams of facilitating an amazing summer workshop were fading fast, another opportunity came my way. Next week, I'll be exposing group of about 15 summer campers to the wonderful practice of yoga for the first time. (With any luck, a few of them will fall in love with yoga and start coming to my class, too!)
Isn't it funny how things work out?
June 6, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
This week as I walked into the yoga studio ready to teach my class, I was armed with a new sequence. I remembered my sign-in sheet, pen, and even my tingsa bells. I was so excited to be teaching again after a two-week hiatus that I felt like a kid on the first day of school. I sat nervously as I anticipated the arrival of my students. I couldn't wait to see my girls!
The feelings were not mutual.
In my absence, my students must've forgotten all about my class. I know that teenagers have a shorter attention span, but com'on!!! Not one of them showed up! This was the first time this had happened in probably a year. And I'll be honest, I was a little devastated. I'm still learning not to take it personally when the numbers aren't there to validate me as a teacher, but it's not easy.
Logically, I realize there are so many scenarios that can keep people (particularly teenage people) from yoga class that do not involve suddenly realizing a hatred for the yoga teacher. I will now list OTHER possible excuses in an attempt to try to make myself feel better about life.
1. It's the first week of summer! I think I'd rather hang out with my friends this week instead. I'll be back next week for sure... and I'll probably bring my friends.
2. Now that it's summer, I have to catch up on all my doctor's appointments. My mom forgot I'm supposed to go to yoga and scheduled a dentist appointment for the same time. I'm still mad at her.
3. I was injured water skiing so I decided to give my body time to heal.
4. I usually come with a friend, but my friend had a doctor's appointment during yoga class.
5. I was studying for the SATs.
6. All of my yoga clothes are dirty.
7. I had soccer practice.
8. I decided I'd rather practice yoga with fancy, new Wii Fit. (I'm sure I'll be tired of it by next week and come to class.)
9. We had family visiting from out of town.
10. I took a nap at home instead.
Help me add to the list!
May 30, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
You may have guessed (based on my lack of blogging) that I've been on vacation the last two weeks. First, I went to the Yoga Journal Conference in Boston and the following Monday was Memorial Day. So I haven't seen my students in two weeks. I miss them, but what a time of growth it has been for me! Sometimes, I think teachers need to stop thinking about planning classes for a while so they can really focus on their own practice for a while.
This morning, I went to an Anusara class with a teacher I've never taken from before. I was so impressed with how the teacher picked me out as a new student first thing. She sat down at the end of my mat, and asked me about my yoga experience and injuries. But when I told her that I'm a yogi who practices many different yoga styles, her answer surprised me a bit.
"So you haven't decided that Anusara is the style that you're in love with yet?" her brow furrowed a bit when she asked.
"I kind of dabble in everything," I repeated.
"Well, at some point you're going to want to pick a style that you resonate with and go deeply into it so it's not just surface work," she said in a matter-of-fact voice. "I know all of my students well, and I give them homework throughout the week. It's not like vinyasa where you can pop in and out."
Now, I know she made a valid point about how studying with one teacher in one style of yoga will help you to really start to understand something you might not if you are a class hopper, but this wasn't the most welcoming feeling I've ever had at the start of a new class. Imagine if I were a hard-core vinyasa student how offensive that would be!! The teacher totally made up for it later by giving me lots of personal attention (and by just being lovely in general), and I really loved her class.
But this incident also reinforced my feeling that being SO devoted to one style might also have a downside . . . Is it unfair to students who aren't part of the club? Does it go against the yogic philosophy of unity? Isn't it possible that this pick-a-style-and-stick-with-it attitude could isolate you from potentially really useful information other styles bring to the table?
May 8, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
One of the things that make teaching teenagers such a joy is their fearless abandon when it comes to trying new things. They fall down, and it doesn't even faze them. They laugh at themselves and get up and do it again.
I'll never forget the first time I attempted to teach Down Dog using yoga swings that hang from the wall as a prop. I had just demonstrated what the students were supposed to do, and they had just started to try it for themselves when ... THUMP! One of the girls had decided to try to swing through the air, lost her balance, and landed flat on her knees. My impulse was to run over to her and frantically ask if she was OK. I realized this was unnecessary when I saw that the student and two of her friends were rolling on the floor with laughter. "OK... Let's try it again... This time more carefully, please?"
I've experienced several of these moments in my classes. Luckily, none of them have resulted in a disastrous injury (knock on wood). But I have seen the effects of my students' carefree, risk-taking lifestyles through their various injuries. These aren't just the kinds of injuries that are often addressed in teacher training.
For example, this week, I had a student tell me she wasn't in class last week because she had injured herself. What was this injury, I asked? She showed me a six-inch gash in her thigh that had been created by the blade on an ice skate worn by a "top level" ice skater. It hurts just thinking about it.
Let's just say, when I ask if anyone has injuries, my students are more likely to point to bruises and scrapes than talk about strained muscles or achy joints. This isn't a bad problem to have. It means that they're healthy, active teenagers! But could someone please tell me how to modify yoga poses to accommodate a bloody, six-inch gash in one's thigh flesh? The best I could come up with was ... "Take things easy, and go into Child's Pose for a few breaths if you feel any direct pain."
May 1, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
The first time I heard snores during a Savasana I was leading, I couldn't help but smile. If a student is able to relax enough in the five or ten minutes of Final Resting Pose at the end of a class, I view it as a good thing. We all need more moments of complete relaxation in our lives, right? Of course!
Unfortunately, it can become a problem when the snoring became loud enough to elicit giggles from other students. First, that means it's disrupting the rest of the other students, which no teacher wants. Secondly, I remember being 15, and I remember how mortified I'd be if I my peers were laughing at me for snoring. Nobody wins. So I have to devise a plan to help the snoring cease.
During my teacher training, I remember this topic came up. My teacher's advice was all you have to do is point at the sleeping student and he/she will energetically feel uneasy and wake up. Everyone else in the room is in Savasana, he said, so no one will know. I tried this and it didn't work for me. I've bee advised by other teachers to offer a gentle adjustment to ease the student awake. This works, but since I don't give a whole lot of Savasana adjustments, I think it might be a little too obvious and the last thing I want to do is make a comfortable student uncomfortable.
I've had the most luck with softly speaking to the entire group the first time I hear the faintest hint of a snore—so before the giggles start. I give a cue to try to maintain in the present or to relax the eyes, face, jaw, and tongue. The beauty of this method is that it doesn't really matter what I say. If my students are deep in Savasana, they'll probably tune me out anyway. Those who aren't deeply into it will be gently reminded what they're doing and come back into their bodies. And this way I don't single anyone out.
What method do you use to squelch snores?
April 22, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
As much as I hate to admit it, I didn't really read the Bhagavad Gita (a classic yogic text) during my teacher training. I bought it and carried it around with me for a few weeks with the intention of reading it cover to cover. But every time I opened it my mind wandered off to something else. I had heard the story from a few different yoga teacher, and I had skimmed it a number of times, so instead of forcing it I just put it away and moved on to The Autobiography of a Yogi or some other obscure text that was on my reading list. Like so many other books in my collection, it sat on my shelf undisturbed for more than a year.
But a couple of weeks ago, something strange happened. I was lying in Savasana (Corpse Pose) at the end of a particularly lovely yoga class, trying to focus on my breathing, when something else popped into my mind: the Bhagavad Gita!
"I never really read that," thought my Monkey Mind. "I should probably do that. You know what else I haven't read? That Ekhart Tolle book someone recommended ... Who was that?... Oprah? ... Wait. What am I supposed to be doing? Oh yeah, Savasana."
Anyway, a couple of days ago, something moved me to take the Bhagavad Gita off my bookshelf, dust it off, and start reading it. I'm having a completely different experience than the last time I attempted this important book. I'm only reading a chapter or two at a time (that is, a chapter of interpretation followed by a chapter of the actual text), but each time I've put it down I can't wait to pick it up again. I'm so into the story, I find myself pondering it as I commute or whenever I take a break from work.
Once again, I'm stunned at this phenomenon I've noticed numerous times in the years I've practiced yoga. Deeper poses, meditative moments, wisdom, new levels of understanding—they all reveal themselves to you when you're ready. You can't force opening. You just have to wait for it to come.
April 16, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
Right now I'm in the process of developing my first ever Saturday workshop. It's going to be twice as long as a normal class, and on a lazy summer day. Since this will be my very first workshop, I want to make sure I choose a theme that resonates with my teenagers and will help them to deepen their understanding of the practice. I'd like to come up with something that might attract a few new students, as well as my regulars. But above all I want it to be fun!
I've decided to do a little Web research into yoga workshops to see what themes other teachers are offering their students. Maybe I can draw some inspiration from their ideas ...
It seems like the most common workshops focus on a specific part of the body (like shoulder openers) or a kind of poses (like backbends), but I feel like I want to do something more general. I found a lot of interesting ones I thought I'd share.
In Oakland, Kimber Simpkins is hosting a workshop called Bringing Your Practice Home. The description says: "Tune in to your inner teacher and take your yoga wherever you go, vacations, business trips, the beach, the mountains, your living room." (For more information see http://namasterockridge.com/events.html.
San Francisco vinyasa teacher Les Leventhal is doing a workshop this summer about "embracing the playfulness of the dormant child." It sounds really fun, but I'd have to take the workshop to understand exactly what that means in terms of sequencing. (For more information see http://www.yogatreesf.com.
The Laguna Beach YogaWorks location is holding a workshop for Girl Scouts where they can earn their Stress Less badge, and another one where brides can get in shape for their weddings.
What workshop themes have you had success with?
April 15, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
I have very few complaints about the yoga studio where I teach my weekly class. There are lots of friendly, smiling faces, a gorgeous skylight, and ample props. But I've always been a bit peeved that the studio offers foam rollers, tennis balls, wedges, a small yoga ball, and a lot of props I wouldn't even know how to begin to use, but it has only one (two, if we're lucky) eye pillows for students to use during restorative poses!
But nobody likes a complainer. So I've decided to take matters into my own hands, literally. This weekend, I gathered a few materials, and set to work making lavender-scented eye pillows. I made five and brought them to my class, and, lo and behold, had exactly five students! There were a big hit.
Here's what I did! (Pardon my pictures. It's not easy being crafty and taking pictures at the same time!_
Materials (Yields 1 Pillow) 
- Organic Flax Seeds (2 cups per pillow should be about right)
- A 9-by-9 inch square of a soft fabric (Organic fabric is best, but use whatever you have onhand—fabric remnants work well, too.)
- 1 Heaping Tablespoon of Dried Organic Lavender Per Pillow
- 1 Funnel
- A Needle, Thread, Sewing Machine (with zigzag stitch), Scissors, Measuring Tape
Step By Step
1. With the right sides together, fold the fabric in half.
2. Sew a straight edge around the three cut edges, leaving a 5/8-inch seam allowance. IMPORTANT: Leave about an inch at the corner not sewn!
3. Zigzag stitch around the raw edges, to keep your fabric from unraveling. Again, leaving about an inch at the corner not sewn.
4. Turn the fabric inside out through the opening you left at the corner.
5. Insert the funnel into the opening.
6. Using the funnel, fill your pillow approximately half of the way with the flax seeds and dried lavender. 
7. Sew together the one-inch opening in the corner with your needle and thread. Make your stitches as close together as possible.
Voila!
April 10, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
I'm completely freaked out by all the recent events that point that the economy is quickly heading for a recession: sky-high oil prices, airlines bankrupting, record housing foreclosures, high unemployment rates. It's not pretty, and I really feel for all the folks out there who are struggling right now. To put it in the terms they teach in college economics courses, people are cutting back on "luxuries" so they can budget enough for food, shelter, and other necessities. For a lot of people one of those luxuries, it seems, is pricey yoga classes.
I'm noticing a decline in attendance in my class as students who were once regulars are now coming sporadically at best. When they do come, they're asking for ideas on how they can practice more at home.
Since teaching yoga isn't my main source of income, my small classes are no big deal. (In fact, I kind of love that I can give each student more individual attention.) But this has caused me to wonder if this isn't a bigger trend in the yoga community. Are other teachers noticing a decline in attendance, or am I just paranoid? If you have a policy that offers free or reduced rates for the financially challenged are more people taking advantage of it? Are you doing anything to cut back on your own costs as a teacher?
-- Yoga is a necessity for me. But I'm cutting back on $18 classes and practicing more at home. (I think this is actually helping me come up with fun, innovative ideas to share with my classes!)
-- I haven't bought new yoga clothes in more than six months. (This might be a record.)
-- I'm using public transportation whenever I can—and walking longer distances to save on public transit fees!
-- I keep in touch with my students through email and Myspace, as opposed to expensive fliers or advertising campaigns. (Though, I admit this is half thriftiness and half laziness.)
-- Last but not least, I'm being picky about what organic foods I buy. I choose seasonal, local fruits and veggies that tend to be cheaper than the out-of-season stuff. And if I really need to keep my grocery bill down, I only buy the five most important things in organic using this guide.
March 18, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
Yesterday, I left my yoga class with $20 cash in my hand. I went to the local grocery store and bought a package of cupcakes from the baked goods section. These cupcakes were not made of whole-grain flour. They weren't trans fat or sugar free. They weren't even organic. There was nothing healthy or natural about them at all. But they were awfully yummy. As I was standing in the check out line I caught myself thinking, "What if one of my students is watching me buy these? Is this the example I want to set?" After some deliberation, I've decided that it's a fine example to set.
Let me explain.
Recently I've been noticing a big misconception in the yoga community about what yogis eat—or at least what they should eat. Take a minute to look around you the next time your workshop or training breaks for lunch. You might not be surprised to see lots of ridiculously healthy foods—fresh, organic produce, trendy energy bars, rice cakes, tofu, etc. This was the case at the last training I took. But when I got back to the hotel where I was staying and started chatting with my roommate, I discovered that we were both starving. We had both packed uber-healthy lunches because we didn't want the other people in the training to think we were unhealthy. It's not that we are unhealthy eaters normally, but it's a feeling that we'd be judged if even one fried or sugared morsel made its way into our otherwise healthy lunch! We had a good laugh about it, and then had a nice, healthy-ish dinner together.
Realizing how ridiculous this phenomenon is, I've recently turned over a new leaf. I think it's healthy to indulge sometimes. In fact, I think it's unhealthy to try to mask the fact that you sometimes eat a cupcake. Instead of pretending to be healthy all the time, I'm embracing the fact that I'm not. It's part of who I am, and I'm not hiding it anymore. Sure, my diet has improved significantly because of my yoga practice, but I'm no saint. And I know I'm not alone. Even the Yoga Journal office has a candy bowl at the front desk that must be replenished several times a day.
Do you ever feel the need to hide your indulgences (food or otherwise) from your peers or your students?
March 7, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
Words are infinitely important to me, both as a writer and a yoga teacher. Most of the time, I feel like I'm a decent communicator. I've been working hard to come up with new, accessible ways of describing essential yoga actions to my students since I taught my first class. I look at each class i teach as an experiment. I describe the same pose in as many different ways as I can, then watch closely to see which words actually translate into actions in my students' bodies. When they look up at me with furrowed eyebrows, I make a mental note that that combination of words didn't work. Then, I take a deep breath and try again, and again. This has been effective so far. I've honed the way I describe a number of poses, and I think I'm a better teacher for it. But there's one thing I've never quite gotten a handle on. There's just no eloquent way to describe a butt.
Imagine this scenario:
My students are in Child's Pose after a challenging Sun Salutations sequence. I want them to rest for a few breaths before we move on to standing poses. The tone of my voice goes from playful to soft and soothing. Then, like out of where I say, "Straighten and tone your arms, tuck your toes under, and reach your heiny to the sky for Downward Dog." That's right. I said "heiny." The class erupts into laughter. But I am sure I turned 14 shades of red. It kind of ruined the moment.
This wasn't an isolated occasion. Last week, when my students were resting in Savasana, I instructed my students to release tension in their eyes, jaws, shoulders, neck, and, of course, their "gluteus maximus." (Thinking maybe the scientific word would elicit fewer stifled laughs.) Wrong!
I've had discussions with other teachers who work with kids about this. Every teacher has a different approach. Some teachers just avoid any reference to the butt, and refer to the hips or pelvis instead. But that's not always accurate. Some suggestions I've tried include (but are not limited to): butt, bum, booty, backside, buttocks, rear end, tail bone, sitting bones, and yes, even heiny.
Let's just say, I'm still searching for my word. I'd love to hear your suggestions!
February 21, 2008 by Erica Rodefer
Those of you who frequent yogajournal.com have probably noticed by now that we're now offering weekly, downloadable, audio podcasts. In each podcast, a seasoned yoga teacher who teaches us once a week in the Yoga Journal offices. Jason is the kind of teacher we all love. His language is precise. He gives just enough—never too much—instruction. He challenges us, but encourages us to slow things down when we need to. Basically, he's an awesome teacher.
Because I have the most fabulous job in the universe, I've gotten to practice along with Jason as he tapes the audio podcasts. And what I've learned from it is valuable to me as a teacher, so I thought I'd share. The fact that the podcasts are audio (i.e. no visuals) means Jason's language has to be not only clear and precise, but simple and concise enough to get a beginner into a pose quickly with little confusion. On top of that, the podcasts are all around Maybe this is wrong of me, but I kind of delight in the fact that even Jason messes up on occasion! 20 minutes so there's no time for lengthy explanations.
Yesterday, when we were taping podcasts six and seven, Jason and I had a long conversation about how to best describe a simple movement from Sukhasana (Easy Pose) to Ardha Matsyendrasana (Half Lord of the Fishes Pose). From Sukhasana, Jason kept telling me to move my left foot toward my left buttock, meaning my RIGHT foot. I was very baffled. I was trying to do what he was saying, but that wasn't exactly what he meant.
Communication is SO important to the art of teaching yoga. Not only the words are important, but the tone of your voice, how quickly you say the words. Sometimes, it seems, the difference between a good teacher and an amazing one is the willingness to sit down and think through the way you describe each pose, practice that wording on your students, and then modify it until it works . . . Or maybe I should say, "re-think your pose descriptions, practice that wording, and then modify"? . . .
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