|
|
I should be fairly skilled at handling distractions by now as much as I do yoga. But the concentration that comes so easily when I'm taking a yoga class is nowhere to be found when I'm teaching one. Blaring car horns, gusts of barbecue-scented wind from outside, and passersby peeking into the tiny window in the studio door have all thrown me off so much that I've left my poor students holding Downward-Facing Dog while I try to remember what pose I had planned to teach next.
The class I taught yesterday was a classic example of this. It seemed like every few minutes, a student would come in 5, 10, or 20 minutes late, plop a mat down, and assume whatever pose I was attempting to explain. I had to let said students know if we were on the second side, what props to get, etc. For the first time, I completely understood why some yoga teachers are so strict about not allowing students to come in late.
I have no idea how to handle this. I want to welcome everyone. However, if something as minor as a car horn throws me off so much, a bigger distraction like a noisy latecomer could really keep me from giving my students what they need. At the same time, I don't want to be rigid and unyielding because I don't believe that's what yoga is about.
So this is the question: Would it serve my students more to change my classroom rules and be more strict around class start time? Or do I change my mindset—and possibly the structure of my classes— so I'm not so thrown off by little distractions? I'm going to Los Angeles tomorrow to figure all of this out at a five-day intensive about how to approach teaching high school students.
There are two kinds of yoga teachers in the world: Those who focus on every little detail to help you gain control and awareness of your body, and those who invite you to rely on your breath and intuition to create a deeper sense of self.
Both types of teachers have molded and shaped my yoga practice. The first, more detail-oriented, approach has transformed the way I hold myself and has brought my poses closer to perfection. The latter has honed my understanding of things beyond the body—acceptance, spirituality, etc. I have a deep appreciation for both styles, and when people ask me to recommend a class I advocate a healthy dose of both.
Unfortunately, I've noticed that when teachers try to do both at once, it doesn't work so well. When you stop a vinyasa every few seconds to draw attention to alignment, you ruin the students' concentration on their breath. It's just too much to think about.
I want my students to taste both, but I find it impossible to incorporate both styles into my short, hour-long classes. So I've been doing one or the other. Sometimes I teach a class based on Sun Salutations—emphasizing breath and intuition. Almost as often, I teach a sequence that emphasizes one specific motion (the subtle tuck of the tail bone, or the rise of the chest). But I can't help but wonder if I'm short-changing my students by not diving completely into one style. Is it good to introduce beginners to a little bit of everything, or should I invite them to get familiar with one specific way of practicing?
No matter how much time I spend planning for my classes, something always happens that causes me to throw my plans out the window and start from scratch at the last minute. As my loyal readers know, last week I had planned on giving my students a nice, core awakening—my first time teaching in this way.
But a few minutes before class, a brand new student walked in. This was her very first yoga class—and likely her only class with me since she was visiting relatives. I wanted her to have the best first experience ever, so I decided not to experiment with something new. This way she could really get a good feel for what yoga is about, the inner work, quieting the mind. So we worked on finding a calm moment in every pose.
I explained this as simply as I could:
A while back I was running late for an appointment. I grabbed my keys, my cell phone, my purse—all the necessities—and started to run for the door, but I had a problem. It was a beautiful, sunny day but my sunglasses were nowhere to be found. I did exactly what I always do when I lose something. I checked all the usual hiding places—the kitchen table, counter tops, under the bed, in the closet, the bathroom vanity—desperate, I think I even looked in the refrigerator. I was going to be late. It was inevitable. I calmed myself down, took a deep breath, and re-focused. At that very moment I looked up, and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My sunglasses were resting on my head the entire time.
Unfortunately, this how we often approach our yoga practice—especially when it's new to us. We're so desperate to bend further, reach higher, and work harder because we think it will help us achieve some greater goal. Panicked, we look to our yoga teachers, books and magazines, or even the person on the mat next to us to no avail. But the second we calm ourselves down and take a deep breath and pay attention, we realize that what we've been looking for has been with us all along. In fact, it's a part of us.
I've found the same is true for teaching. Over and over again, I'm trying to pass something meaningful on to my students, and I keep looking to outside sources for guidance. But, what I really need to teach comes to me in the moment.
Have any of you had a similar experience?
I like to think that the Universe provides us with what we need—especially on the yoga mat.
Unfortunately, this week the universe (with the help of several lovely yoga teachers) has decided I need a lot of core work. And I'm not talking about the pansy Down-Dog-to-Plank stuff—I'm talking about major, teeth-clenching, kick-your-butt, so-deep-it's-almost-painful, hard-core, Ana Forrest-inspired core work. The kind I hate. Passionately.
If you're not sure what I'm talking about, it goes something like this:
Lie on your back with your knees up off the ground, stacked over you hips at a 90 degree angle.
Place a block between your thighs, flex your feet, spread your toes, and clasp your hands behind your head.
Take a deep breath in.
As you exhale, scoop your tail bone to lift your knees toward the sky and lift your head and shoulders (even the tips of your shoulder blades) off the ground.
Pull your belly in toward your spine.
Inhale as you release only the shoulders (but not the head) back to the floor.
Repeat more times than you'd like.
(There are lots of variations with twists and different leg positions, but this is the gist.)
Needless to say, I've never felt the urge to teach this. I have no reason to inflict such misery on my young, innocent students. After all, I kind of like them. Instead, I've been teaching a lot of Down Dogs, Planks, Dolphin, Dolphin Planks, and Navasana.
But since my teachers have been so generously sharing this with me, I've been thinking perhaps I should let my students have a taste of it, too. It might be selfish of me to keep it all to myself. Who am I to argue with the universe? I have to admit, even though I hate doing the core work, when it's over I feel really great—and like I might be just the tiniest bit closer to doing this.
My next class, I'm planning to teach the core work that I simultaneously love and hate. I'll let you know how it goes.
Life is not fair. Bad things happen to good people, not everyone looks good in those tiny shorts you see on the covers of Yoga Journal, and in San Francisco only stay-at-home moms and dads have the luxury of attending Mommy and Me (or Daddy and Me?) yoga classes with their little ones. Unfortunately, those classes always seem to land during the week in the middle of the morning, when everyone else is hunched over a desk (or something else if they don't happen to work in an office).
So when one of my co-workers approached me last week to ask if I'd be interested in leading a class for kids and parents in her neighborhood (on a weekend morning!), I was thrilled. Working parents definitely need yoga—and they shouldn't have to sacrifice those precious weekend hours with their kids to get it. It only makes sense for yoga to be a family affair. Besides, I'm always looking for ways to practice teaching and if I can make the world just a little more fair in the process, everybody wins!
But there's a problem. First, we must find a space. Studios don't want to give up their space during their peak hours to a specialty class that won't bring in as many students—or as much dough. So that's out. We contemplated a park/play area so that if the young'uns get bored, they can simply excuse themselves and hang out on the monkey bars instead without disturbing the class—but that might be too distracting and I'm not sure what the rules are on using a city park for classes.
Then there's the issue of how to teach both parents and children at the same time. If I were leading a class for children it would be very playful and imaginative complete with singing and animal noises . . . not very calming for the adults. Adult classes are, well, you know what adult classes are like. I can't wrap my mind around how the two can come together gracefully.
My first plan of action, then, is to find a Mommy and Me class to observe. (Too bad, they all seem to happen while I am at work.)
|
|
|
Liability insurance and benefits to support teachers and studios.
Learn More »
|
|
Yoga Journal Presents:
Stay Inspired all year long with the 2008 Yoga Journal Wall Calendar – only $13.95
Buy Now »
|
|
Prizes include a spa vacation in Vermont,
a stained-glass window depicting the seven energy centers of the body,
Yoga DVDs, a yoga vacation in San Francisco and more...
Enter Now »
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
