You may have guessed (based on my lack of blogging) that I've been on vacation the last two weeks. First, I went to the Yoga Journal Conference in Boston and the following Monday was Memorial Day. So I haven't seen my students in two weeks. I miss them, but what a time of growth it has been for me! Sometimes, I think teachers need to stop thinking about planning classes for a while so they can really focus on their own practice for a while.

This morning, I went to an Anusara class with a teacher I've never taken from before. I was so impressed with how the teacher picked me out as a new student first thing. She sat down at the end of my mat, and asked me about my yoga experience and injuries. But when I told her that I'm a yogi who practices many different yoga styles, her answer surprised me a bit.

"So you haven't decided that Anusara is the style that you're in love with yet?" her brow furrowed a bit when she asked.

"I kind of dabble in everything," I repeated.

"Well, at some point you're going to want to pick a style that you resonate with and go deeply into it so it's not just surface work," she said in a matter-of-fact voice. "I know all of my students well, and I give them homework throughout the week. It's not like vinyasa where you can pop in and out."

Now, I know she made a valid point about how studying with one teacher in one style of yoga will help you to really start to understand something you might not if you are a class hopper, but this wasn't the most welcoming feeling I've ever had at the start of a new class. Imagine if I were a hard-core vinyasa student how offensive that would be!! The teacher totally made up for it later by giving me lots of personal attention (and by just being lovely in general), and I really loved her class.

But this incident also reinforced my feeling that being SO devoted to one style might also have a downside . . . Is it unfair to students who aren't part of the club? Does it go against the yogic philosophy of unity? Isn't it possible that this pick-a-style-and-stick-with-it attitude could isolate you from potentially really useful information other styles bring to the table?

Posted by Erica Rodefer at 11:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

One of the things that make teaching teenagers such a joy is their fearless abandon when it comes to trying new things. They fall down, and it doesn't even faze them. They laugh at themselves and get up and do it again.

I'll never forget the first time I attempted to teach Down Dog using yoga swings that hang from the wall as a prop. I had just demonstrated what the students were supposed to do, and they had just started to try it for themselves when ... THUMP! One of the girls had decided to try to swing through the air, lost her balance, and landed flat on her knees. My impulse was to run over to her and frantically ask if she was OK. I realized this was unnecessary when I saw that the student and two of her friends were rolling on the floor with laughter. "OK... Let's try it again... This time more carefully, please?"

I've experienced several of these moments in my classes. Luckily, none of them have resulted in a disastrous injury (knock on wood). But I have seen the effects of my students' carefree, risk-taking lifestyles through their various injuries. These aren't just the kinds of injuries that are often addressed in teacher training.

For example, this week, I had a student tell me she wasn't in class last week because she had injured herself. What was this injury, I asked? She showed me a six-inch gash in her thigh that had been created by the blade on an ice skate worn by a "top level" ice skater. It hurts just thinking about it.

Let's just say, when I ask if anyone has injuries, my students are more likely to point to bruises and scrapes than talk about strained muscles or achy joints. This isn't a bad problem to have. It means that they're healthy, active teenagers! But could someone please tell me how to modify yoga poses to accommodate a bloody, six-inch gash in one's thigh flesh? The best I could come up with was ... "Take things easy, and go into Child's Pose for a few breaths if you feel any direct pain."

Posted by Erica Rodefer at 7:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

The first time I heard snores during a Savasana I was leading, I couldn't help but smile. If a student is able to relax enough in the five or ten minutes of Final Resting Pose at the end of a class, I view it as a good thing. We all need more moments of complete relaxation in our lives, right? Of course!

Unfortunately, it can become a problem when the snoring became loud enough to elicit giggles from other students. First, that means it's disrupting the rest of the other students, which no teacher wants. Secondly, I remember being 15, and I remember how mortified I'd be if I my peers were laughing at me for snoring. Nobody wins. So I have to devise a plan to help the snoring cease.

During my teacher training, I remember this topic came up. My teacher's advice was all you have to do is point at the sleeping student and he/she will energetically feel uneasy and wake up. Everyone else in the room is in Savasana, he said, so no one will know. I tried this and it didn't work for me. I've bee advised by other teachers to offer a gentle adjustment to ease the student awake. This works, but since I don't give a whole lot of Savasana adjustments, I think it might be a little too obvious and the last thing I want to do is make a comfortable student uncomfortable.

I've had the most luck with softly speaking to the entire group the first time I hear the faintest hint of a snore—so before the giggles start. I give a cue to try to maintain in the present or to relax the eyes, face, jaw, and tongue. The beauty of this method is that it doesn't really matter what I say. If my students are deep in Savasana, they'll probably tune me out anyway. Those who aren't deeply into it will be gently reminded what they're doing and come back into their bodies. And this way I don't single anyone out.

What method do you use to squelch snores?

Posted by Erica Rodefer at 5:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)