Anyone who has been studying yoga for a while knows that there's a pretty specific order to things in a yoga class. Depending on what the focus of the class is, one family of poses comes first, then another, to the point that some teachers' class sequences are predictable beginning with the first pose.

Teachers who are this predictable, of course, are generally the most experienced teachers who know the body so well sequencing is second nature to them. The best teachers make sure every pose they include in their classes has a specific purpose (to get students ready to do a difficult pose or to stress the importance of a specific action in a pose).

Unfortunately, most new teachers lack the finesse and savvy to come up with an appropriate and meaningful sequence at the drop of a hat. I know this because I practiced sequencing with 20 almost-yoga teachers this week. I can tell you first-hand it's a lot more complicated than it seems.

In this week's workshop on sequencing, we spent some time talking about basic sequencing principles. Then we had to put what we had just learned to use in a "round-robin" format where each of us taught one or two poses to the group. The idea was that it should flow seamlessly from pose to pose like a yoga class, each one of us doing the pose that was appropriate to teach next given the poses taught before.

I always thought that sequencing would be one of the easiest parts of teaching. After all, you can plan your class in advance, write down each pose, practice it a few times, and then know exactly what to tell your students when it's time for class.

However, it doesn't always happen that way (which is why we had to do this exercise sans preparation). In the real world, teachers often realize that the sequence they had planned just won't serve the group of students who come to class. When that happens, you have to throw your plans out the window and

Stephanie Snyder told us she almost never plans her sequence out before she teaches a class. Instead, she waits until she gets in front of her class so she can get a feel for her students energy. At most, she said, she has an idea of an apex pose she might teach.

Of course, it will be years before I'll be comfortable enough when my skills as a teacher to rely on my intuition to know what to teach. In the meantime, I guess I'll just have to keep trying different pose sequences on my own over and over again accessing how I feel at the end of each practice. And when all else fails, I'll look to my own teachers for sequencing ideas.

Posted by Erica Rodefer at 11:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

My boyfriend is not a yogi. He thinks yoga is “girly,” new-agey, and all about flexibility. “I don’t bend that way,” is his mantra nearly every time I try to gently encourage him to try a pose. He just doesn’t get it.

In fact, he is so uncomfortable with the idea of yoga, that he won’t even be my guinea pig for practice teaching. “Maybe when you’re certified,” he says. (SO rude!)

But when I told him I could show him a “trick” to get him to sleep better at night, he reluctantly agreed. He had been struggling with insomnia for a while and was looking for a drug-free solution. I put him into the most soothing pose I could think of, Viparita Karini (Legs-Up-the-Wall) on a bolster.

He grumbled about how uncomfortable he was, moaned that all his blood was rushing to his stomach, and mimicked me with a few tongue-in-cheek Oms. Eventually, he settled into the pose.

Even though he won’t admit it, it must’ve helped him sleep that night. Now, he asks me to help him “do yoga” when he can’t sleep. (He still refuses to try any other pose, which is a great exercise in patience for me.) All of this has given me some first-hand insight into just how difficult it can be to teach someone to relax.

This week, restorative yoga teacher Jennifer Morrice told us about a similar experience she had once. A lady who came to her public class was almost as disagreeable as my boyfriend. “Why do we need all this stuff?” she’d whine for weeks until she grew to trust Jennifer.

Jennifer’s advice for working with students who are uneasy is simple: start small. If you can tell they wouldn’t feel comfortable lying over a bolster in a chest-opening pose, put them on a folded blanket, she said. They’ll get the same opening, and you can add blankets as they get more comfortable.

This is a good theory for teaching beginners anything, whether it’s Plank Pose or the ABCs. It’s easy for us, as we progress in our practice and learn to become teachers, to forget how we felt the first weeks we were trying yoga. I, for one, was skeptical, cocky, and resistant all at the same time—which is something I hope to remember if I work with beginners.

My boyfriend, as stubborn and determined as he is, has been a wonderful reminder that you can’t force someone to learn something and that if you introduce too much, too soon, you can easily turn a new student away. I suspect that it’s the students that offer the most resistance who really need yoga the most. And as a teacher, if I can’t figure out a way to ease them into it comfortably, I’ve failed them. Luckily, I’ll have more practice as the boyfriend experiment continues. Next step: Supta Baddha Konasana.

Posted by Erica Rodefer at 11:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

A few weeks ago I watched Larry King interview Mary Kay Letourneau, the former schoolteacher who spent more than seven years in prison in the ’90s for seducing her 13-year-old student. The student, now in his twenties, sat by her side as they discussed their marriage, the children they have together, and their future. Eww! Maybe it’s my cultural bias, but this relationship seems really wrong.

I know there are exceptions to every rule, but, likewise, it seems especially heinous for a yoga teacher to become romantically involved with a student. You may ask: “What’s the big deal if both the parties are consenting adults?”

Because it’s a spiritual as well as physical practice, students may become intimately attached to their yoga practice and, as a result, to their teachers. This puts them in a vulnerable position, even if they’re not minors. It’s the teacher’s responsibility, then, to keep the relationship professional—just as Mary Kay Letourneau should have done years ago.

This week in my training, we talked about teacher ethics and the importance of acting like professionals—for the good of our students and for the yoga community as a whole.

I understand that people wear form-fitting clothing and that touching is a big part of teaching, but it’s really hard for me to imagine yoga leading anyone to place where they can emotionally harm another being, especially a student who looks up to them. It’s inexcusable.

I’ve been taking yoga classes for four or five years now, and I don’t think one of my teachers has ever done anything to make me even feel uncomfortable, much less threatened. Yoga class has been a safe haven for me—somewhere I can go to feel unconditionally accepted no matter what. That’s how it should be, and anything that could jeopardize that trust is a breach of ethics in my mind.

Entering into a relationship with a student isn’t the only unethical behavior a yoga teacher could engage in. Making a misleading claim about the benefits of yoga, not honoring your word, and exaggerating your training or skill level are equally unethical.

For more about the ethics of teaching, read the California Yoga Teachers Association’s guidelines. And Darren advised us that any time we’re faced with a potential grey area to ask a trusted yoga colleague for advice. Personally, I plan to use my intuition and put myself in my students’ shoes (or on their sticky mat) in an effort to keep my yoga space, wherever it might be, a sacred place for everyone involved.

Posted by Erica Rodefer at 10:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)