This has been a sad and somber week for me. I'm preparing a trip to the Yoga Journal Conference in Colorado—something that I couldn't be more excited about—but, that means I can't teach my yoga class this week. This makes me very sad in light of the sudden interest in my class and amazing gush of enthusiastic students.

I have to find a substitute for my next class. I know it's necessary to keep the momentum alive and all that, but I'll be honest with you—I don't wanna.

First of all, subs are hard to come by. I've already asked all of the teachers that I know well and completely trust, and all of them are teaching other classes. This can only mean I am going to have to arrange something with someone I don't know well, and trust that she or he will inspire and motivate a group of teenagers who know very little about yoga (many of whom have had only one yoga class or are completely green). I know, from experience, that this can very quickly go wrong.

In fact, there are SO many things that could go awry, I get butterflies in the pit of my stomach to even think about it. I'm worried about the logistics of the tricky door that has a history of locking poor, unsuspecting students out. I worry that my class will think that a substitute yoga teacher means the same thing that a substitute teacher often means in school: a chance to be completely unruly. (Although, I can't really imagine my yoga angels being SO unruly.) And, of course, I worry that someone will get hurt, and I will be responsible even though I'm not there.

To be even more honest, what I'm most worried about is that my students (especially the regular students who have been taking classes with me for a while) will really love the substitute teacher—more than they like me. I can already image the cries of, "But that's not how [fill in the sub's name here] taught it!" and "Can we please have [fill in the name again] come back next week?" It's selfish and horrible and an obvious testament that I'm insecure about my teaching abilities. But it's oh so real—and all I can do is venture to learn from it.

I guess non-attachment will be my mantra until these feelings pass.

Posted by Erica Rodefer at 08:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

My short teaching career has consisted of week after week of planting seeds and waiting for them to grow. Each carefully planted seed—a call to a school, a strategically-placed flier, an random email to youth organizations, had seemed to be fruitless. For months, I spent more money on parking my car for the hour I taught my very small classes of four or five students (on a good day) every week. It was a good investment. Suddenly, I have an entire yoga garden!

It finally seems that my days of wishing and waiting, hoping and dreaming for students have come to an end. The number of students in my classes has doubled overnight.

Yesterday, I had a whopping five new students as well as a couple second-timers I hadn't seen in months in addition to my regulars. You could've knocked me over with a feather. Their faces were so bright and shining with enthusiasm and eagerness. The usual shy, awkward pre-class environment was alive with chatter and momentum. As I sat before my students waiting to start class, one of the new students demonstrated her own version of a pose that looked like something like a cross between Bakasana (Crow Pose) and Tripod Headstand. She then began to instruct her friend (another new student) on how to come into this pose. I took that as my cue to start class.

It didn't take me long to realize that a robust class full of excited 15-year-old girls was going to bring with it a whole new list of robust teaching challenges.

Here it is:

Classroom Etiquette. I'm sure this is an issue in every beginning yoga class, but I think with teenagers it's particularly hard to address without coming across as preachy. (They at preached at all day long at school, and I'd like to give them a break.) I'm going to have to come up with a subtle, clever way of getting across this idea: "If you come into class late and can see that we're in the middle of seated meditation, please don't scream out, 'What's UP!' to announce your arrival.

So Many Bodies, So Little Time. Beginners need more adjustments to keep them in alignment. Unfortunately, they can't hold poses for as long, so it's impossible to offer everyone the adjustments they need. This is when a classroom assistant could come in handy, but until then I have to be really specific and clear about the way I bring students into and out of poses so everyone is safe and learning.

New Bodies. Up until a couple of weeks ago, most of my students were of comparable fitness levels. Many of them also took dance lessons or played sports and had good body awareness for beginning yoga students. This isn't the case anymore. I have students who are flexible, but not so strong. I have students who are strong, but get winded easily. And I have students who struggle with even the most basic poses. Adjusting my teaching to include everyone—without boring to tears the students who have been coming to my classes for months—is going to take some practice.

I have many more thoughts running through my mind right now, but I realize I will be likely be working on these three challenges for years to come. Any advice you might have for me will be much appreciated!

Posted by Erica Rodefer at 08:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

Good news! The last time I taught my class, I had the biggest turnout ever. The students I'd been missing recently returned—and some even brought friends! After six months of teaching, I'm finally beginning to see some positive momentum. I have a base of students who come regularly. I get question emails from potential students every now and then. I even have one student who is using my class to get credit for her high school physical education requirement. Life is good!

There's only one problem. More students means more interaction between students. And in a class of teenage girls, that means more whispering, more talking, and more giggling. So I'm learning how to make sure the environment is fun, safe, welcoming, open, and orderly all at the same time, which can be challenging.

That said, I am loving the giggles.

A few weeks ago, I decided it was the perfect time to introduce my young students to Ujjiyi breath. I teach a lot of vinyasa-like sequences, so I wanted to show them how to really use their breath to help. I asked them to practice breathing as if they were going to fog up a mirror first, then again with their mouths closed.

As we tried the first round. I watched them look to both sides to see if the other students were participating. (Most of them had this classic my-teacher-is-insane look on their face, but they tried it anyway, bless their hearts.) Then, I asked them to try it with their mouths closed. I noticed I didn't hear any breathing but my own, so I asked if everything was OK. One student let out a gasp of air. "Wait. Are we supposed to be breathing out our noses now?"

I had forgotten to tell them that they were supposed to push the air out of their nostrils instead of their mouths. We all erupted into laughter for several minutes. In the end, I think we all learned a lesson about the importance of breathing—and the importance of laughter.

Posted by Erica Rodefer at 09:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)