I know you'll all find this very hard to believe, but I was never the most popular girl in school. Don't get me wrong, I had my share of friends, but I was no Plastic (pardon the Mean Girls reference). For most of high school, I had a general distaste for anyone who wasn't in my own, comfortable group of friends. I was self-conscious, shy, and angst-ridden.

This week, I had the pleasure of giving a presentation about yoga to a group of high school students at Palo Alto High School's International Fair. When the PTSA parents saw me, they immediately emphasized the importance of keeping my name tag lest I be mistaken for a student. (Just what every 23-year-old wants to hear!) Being in a high school setting again, with all the rules and rowdy kids, all of those feelings I remember so vividly from my own high school days came bubbling up again. I felt self-conscious, timid, and alone. For a brief moment, I questioned why I keep putting myself out there—only to be greeted with rolled eyes and crossed arms.

But when I began to talk about yoga, I remembered how it had dramatically changed my life. Even though I had my lame 90s Power Point presentation—complete with yoga misconception jokes and tidbits about yoga history and philosophy—my own, personal account kept spewing from my mouth.

I shared that I had taken the SAT and ACT a combined total of six times, but my scores were never good enough—in part because I had believed my entire future was riding on my scores in Verbal and Math. I talked about how yoga had changed my diet, and how I had come to appreciate the people around me more. (I managed to spare them the story about how, during my first yoga class I had to wipe the tears away every time I settled into Savasana—and how it took me two more years of practice to understand where those tears came from.) By complete accident, the professional presentation I had rehearsed the night before morphed into something much more personal. If there was any chance that I could spark the interest of just ONE of these students, it would all be worthwhile. I just hoped I hadn't lost them by seeming like I believe yoga is a miraculous cure-all. I led them in a few simple stretches, breathing techniques, and other yoga tricks I've learned along the way to help me deal with stress.

When my presentation was over, two girls shyly approached me. "We're your biggest fans," said one of the girls. "We love yoga." I was stunned. Fans? Seriously? They had to be mocking me. "Where do you teach your class?" That was all I needed to make me feel like a confident, comfortable grown-up again. It made me realize that even though I'm young myself, I still have a lot to offer.

Posted by Erica Rodefer at 09:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

When I was a kid, I was involved in pretty much every activity you can think of—I was in service clubs and honor societies,I took danced and violin lessons, I played volleyball and girl scouted. All of these activities kept me busy, but it always seemed like I spent more time going door-to-door selling cookies or standing in a deserted parking lot with a water hose and a magic marker CAR WASH sign than I did actually participating in the activities themselves. Needless to say, by the time I had graduated from high school, I had perfected the art of guilt trips and puppy dog eyes. "Are you SURE you don't need a box of Tagalongs? It's only $2.50!" It was for a good cause, after all.

Any time I had to participate in a fund-raiser, I promised myself I was going to work hard in school and get a decent job so I'd never have to beg people for money again. And then I became a yoga teacher. . .

Recently, I've found myself grasping at straws to draw students out of the woodworks and into my class. I've made countless phone calls and hung flyers. I've even resorted to begging my co-workers to tell people they know about my class. None of these things have been effective and I'm beginning to feel a lot like I did when I was 10 years old, pleading with my dad to take a box of 50 candy bars to work with him so that maybe, just maybe, my class at school could win the ultimate prize—a pizza party.

Am I trying too hard? I'm beginning to think I need to approach my "business" the same way I approach my yoga classes. Maybe I shouldn't yank on my yoga strap with all my might to force my forehead to my knee whether my hamstrings likes it or not. Instead of the phone calls, flyers, and the puppy dog eyes I've become oh-so-good at, maybe I should just teach the students who show up and let itall unfold organically.

Nah. That'll never work. Maybe I should take out an ad in Yoga Journal.

Posted by Erica Rodefer at 12:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

I have disappointing news. After last week’s impressive, record-breaking class (a whopping three students), this week not a single one of them made it back.

As I sat in the empty studio hoping someone—anyone—would open the door and come in, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’m doing something wrong. I reminded myself that when I miss a class it has nothing to do with my teacher. Sometimes I just don’t feel like it, or I have something else to do. But it’s hard as a new teacher, not to take things personally.

I’m a little hesitant to admit this, but when I left the studio, yoga mat in hand, I walked down the street into a shoe store and bought a new pair of boots to make myself feel better—at least they were on sale and vegan. (That’ better than drowning my sorrows in ice cream, right?)

Then, as I was walking back to my car strategizing about how to best avoid rush-hour traffic, I had an idea. If I want to get teenagers to come to my class, I have to get as many as I possibly can to try it out—just once. Then, at least a few of them will fall in love with it and come back . . . and that should give the class the momentum it needs to be successful. Regardless, I decided if I ever have another empty studio, it won’t be because I didn’t try.

So when I got home, I put my journalism skills to work and found all the email addresses and phone numbers available online for youth organizations in the neighborhood, and I devised several letters to introduce myself and the class.

In my letters to coaches, I emphasized how yoga was great for preventing injuries. In letters to Girl and Boy Scout leaders, I talked about how a yoga workshop is a great way to build community and earn a health and fitness badge in the process. For school counselors and PTA groups, I talked about the stress-reduction benefits.

I don’t know if any of these people will take me up on my offer for a free class or not, but it ended up being a therapeutic exercise for me. It reminded why I wanted to do this in the first place: I really do believe yoga can make young lives a lot calmer, a lot healthier, and a lot happier.

Posted by Erica Rodefer at 10:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

I’m not sure how it happened, but thanks to some miraculous turn of events, three students came to my class this week. THREE! I probably would be a little freked out if I were to walk into a yoga studio for class the first time and the teacher—waiting patiently in an empty room and staring at the door—were to jump up off her mat, applaud, and cheer: "Yaaaay!!rquot;. Nevertheless, this is the greeting my new students received.

In fact, I was so elated that there would actually be a class this week that I pretty much forgot about everything that’s supposed to happen before class starts. I didn’t have the students sign in—which wasn’t such a big deal because we can do that at the end. I completely forgot the bit of yoga philosophy I had planned to start the class out with, so that part didn’t go as planned’also, not really the end of the world. My biggest oops, however, was that I neglected to ask if there were injuries until halfway through class. (Luckily my 13-, 15-, and 16-year-old students are still supple and relatively free of injury, so I managed not to break any of them.)

Other than that, class went beautifully. I probably gave too much instruction (classic beginning teacher mistake) and I know that my sequencing was choppy at best, but none of that really matters at this point.

I challenged them, and I think they all left the class with a sense of accomplishment. I helped all three girls into Adho Mukha Vrksasana (Handstand) at the wall for the first time. (Thank goodness my training prepared me to do this without being kicked in the face.) I even took requests for next week’s class, so things are looking promising.

I left feeling fulfilled and grateful for the experience—what a true blessing it is! I guess the real test will be how many of them show up again next week. I have fait that when they’re ready—and when I’m ready—the students will come.

Posted by Erica Rodefer at 10:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)