I was prepared for snickers. I was prepared for jokes. I was ready to make a fool of myself in front of 20 bright-eyed, bushy-tailed high school students.

I’ve spent lots of time learning how to modify for injuries and other physical limitations, but I was completely dumbfounded when one of the students blurted out, "I can’t do that! My jeans are too tight!" Not one of my students had come dressed for yoga.

I grimaced, but tried to reassure her. "Just do what you can."

Less than thirty seconds had passed before another student voiced her concern. "I’m not doing push-ups!"

That was just the beginning. Most of the students didn’t vocally refuse to do what I asked of them. They quietly rebelled by simply not taking their shoes off, not spreading out to give themselves room to move, and by making faces at each other when they thought I wasn’t looking.

It was clear most of these darling students weren’t there to learn yoga. They were there because it fulfilled a requirement for their after-school program—and they weren’t particularly thrilled about that.

We were off to a rocky start. I tried to calm them down with a seated meditation. Half of the class stared back at me like they thought I might be crazy. The other half were either bobbing their heads to music blaring through their headphones, sending text messages on their cell phones, or chatting excitedly with their peers. I heard my teacher's voice in my head, "If you try to teach quantum physics to a baboon, who’s the idiot?" That would be me.

Six months of yoga school and I had no idea what to do next. Obviously the class I had planned was not going to work out, so decided to just warm them up with some really simple, modified Sun Salutations. When I asked them to come to standing, most of them complied (success!), but I still had to raise my voice so that everyone could hear me over several noisy conversations.

I continued to demonstrate poses, trying to get them involved. "What do you think Downward-Facing Dog Pose would look like?" One of the boys lifted a leg over an invisible fire hydrant. Well, that’s just great.

I heard one of the students in class casually "whisper" something to one of this friends. "How much longer do we have in this class?"

I was discouraged. I considered cutting class short. But then I got an idea. Whenever I’m feeling out of balance—whether I’m nervous, stressed, overwhelmed, or excited—nothing brings me back to center faster than Viparita Karani (Legs-Up-the-Wall Pose). So I asked them to find a place at the wall.

I heard a few moans and groans, but I think they were relieved to get the opportunity to rest after a long, hard day of classes. After an amazingly brief period, everyone settled into the pose and, for the first time since I had walked into the room, it was completely quiet. I saw one of the staff members peek around the door to see what had happened. I grinned from ear-to-ear. They finally seemed to understand why someone would want to practice yoga.

Their calmness transitioned easily into Savasana (Corpse Pose), which gave me a minute to collect myself after a very hectic hour and a half. The experience was certainly not what I had expected, but I couldn’t wait to try it again. Next time, I think I’ll start with Viparita Karani.