Who's The Teacher?
"Never forget that you are the teacher."
I was about to hold my first yoga class and had asked David Byck, a friend and experienced teacher, for eleventh hour advice. But his reply wasn't the flash of illumination I had hoped for. In fact, it sounded rather conceited.
"No, not like that," he explained. "What I mean is that it's all right if you forget a pose or two. It doesn't mean you're not good enough, it just means you've felt that they aren't ready for it yet."
Ah, this was exactly what I needed to hear. That I didn't have to be perfect and that I shouldn't expect to perform at the same level as my teacher. I entered the class with an added sense of confidence and exited an hour later slightly deflated. Despite mentally warning myself that this class would be worlds apart from those in the ashram, I still wasn't prepared for the complexities of teaching. It was tough!
Tough paying attention to more than one misaligned body. Tough concentrating on my words, my actions and my thoughts all at the same time. Tough trying to find the middle ground between command and compassion. Tough not being distracted by the other teacher and the students' varying reactions. And most of all, tough standing in front of a class instead of among it.
On my way home, I replayed and dissected my class. The feedback I received had one common theme - the class wasn't strong enough. At first I assumed they meant physically, but the more I thought about it the more I was certain it ran deeper than that. Then the illuminating flash arrived. Instead of guiding the students into following my rhythm, I had allowed them to suck me into theirs. Each time they displayed a hint of fatigue, I would immediately instruct them to release the pose instead of go deeper into it. By not pushing them, I stopped them from discovering their abilities and enjoying the class. I handed the student the reins and let them lead the class. In other words, I forgot exactly what David told me never to forget - that I am the teacher.
The good news is that it was the first of many classes and the last in which I will make this mistake.
I was about to hold my first yoga class and had asked David Byck, a friend and experienced teacher, for eleventh hour advice. But his reply wasn't the flash of illumination I had hoped for. In fact, it sounded rather conceited.
"No, not like that," he explained. "What I mean is that it's all right if you forget a pose or two. It doesn't mean you're not good enough, it just means you've felt that they aren't ready for it yet."
Ah, this was exactly what I needed to hear. That I didn't have to be perfect and that I shouldn't expect to perform at the same level as my teacher. I entered the class with an added sense of confidence and exited an hour later slightly deflated. Despite mentally warning myself that this class would be worlds apart from those in the ashram, I still wasn't prepared for the complexities of teaching. It was tough!
Tough paying attention to more than one misaligned body. Tough concentrating on my words, my actions and my thoughts all at the same time. Tough trying to find the middle ground between command and compassion. Tough not being distracted by the other teacher and the students' varying reactions. And most of all, tough standing in front of a class instead of among it.
On my way home, I replayed and dissected my class. The feedback I received had one common theme - the class wasn't strong enough. At first I assumed they meant physically, but the more I thought about it the more I was certain it ran deeper than that. Then the illuminating flash arrived. Instead of guiding the students into following my rhythm, I had allowed them to suck me into theirs. Each time they displayed a hint of fatigue, I would immediately instruct them to release the pose instead of go deeper into it. By not pushing them, I stopped them from discovering their abilities and enjoying the class. I handed the student the reins and let them lead the class. In other words, I forgot exactly what David told me never to forget - that I am the teacher.
The good news is that it was the first of many classes and the last in which I will make this mistake.
posted by starlight at 8:31 AM
4 Comments:
Congratulations on your first class. When I read your words it was like coming home. Every day I stand at the top of my mat, excited in anticipation of what I am going to learn about my practice or myself that day.
Teaching is the same way. A good teacher will continually learn from every class they teach and this knowledge or acceptance will come out in the next class you lead. One building upon the other until one day, you will realize, learning, is part of teaching.
Peace out & thanks,
Anon, thanks so much for your constant support and encouragement. It has helped in more ways than you know. I'm still hoping that one day, out of the big blue, you'll announce that you're back to teaching again!
well done! so glad you're teaching ... and learning from teaching, which is even more important
Thanks so much, Sharon! And yes, becoming a teacher has made me a student all over again. Strange but wonderful how things come in a full circle.
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