The New Teacher Blues
After months of assisting, continued study, and thinking about teaching yoga, I finally decided it was time to teach my own class. I've been so excited about this class—a class designed specifically for teens at a really rad yoga studio near my apartment—that I could barely contain myself.
I spent weeks preparing—studying up on how to connect with teenagers, planning sequences for all levels (then back-up sequences for those), perfecting my cues and adjustments. I thought I had everything covered. I went to the studio on a rainy Monday afternoon, unlocked the studio door, swept the floors, and got the lighting just right... and I waited... and waited... and waited.
Every few minutes I'd hear a noise, glance a hopeful gaze toward the small rectangular window in the studio's door only to be disappointed. I thought to myself, "It must've just been the rain."
What's a yoga teacher to do when nobody shows up for her first real class at a real yoga studio? What would you do all by yourself in a room full of yoga props?
Of course, I went to the prop wall and got down four bolsters, five blankets, two blocks, a strap, and an eye pillow and set myself up in the most luxurious Supta Baddha Konasana (Reclining Bound Angle Pose) you could imagine in the middle of the empty studio&mdashjust under a gorgeous skylight so I could hear the rain drip down. Then, I began to ponder how on earth I was going to get the word out about my class.
