Tag Archives: students

Watching the Detectives

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Well, actually it’s not like watching detectives at all, but I really like that song and it’s in my head now, so there you have it.   What I really want to talk about is watching my yoga students.  First, let me stop myself long enough to giggle about the phrase “my yoga students.”   *giggle*  Now that I have that out of the way…  There is something really cool about being able to watch students as they move through their practice.  In fact, I would say that there are multiple things that are cool about it, and I’m really grooving on them, as I’m used to being in my own practice and not seeing much that goes on around me, so this is like a new world.

Watching students in class is informative.  I find out so much about how people feel about and respond to different poses that I didn’t know before.  As an example, in yin class, I like dragon pose.  I remember finding it tiring early on, but since then, unless something is whacked out in my body on a certain night, I feel ok in dragon.  I can feel that dull, achy stretch that is yin, but nothing that brings me out of the pose or forces a lot of wiggling.  However, since I’ve started to teach yin, I’ve noticed that many people are not happy campers in dragon.  They fidget, wiggle, and look generally quite miserable.  This, of course, can happen in any yin pose, but it’s been interesting to notice how prevalent it is in this pose that I hadn’t considered particularly challenging.  Similarly, in a vinyasa class, watching students is such a good way to judge the pace of the class and whether it is suiting their needs.  I’m still working on this and I’m far far from being good at it, but I am starting to get the clues.  Are they sweating a little (like they are warmed up and working) or cool as cucumbers?  Do they look bored or like they are having to pay some attention to what they are doing, or like they are working so hard to comprehend the directions that they are completely out of their bodies?  And the breathing.  Watching the breathing is also a wealth of information.  I’ve seen students breathing fast, students breathing in sync, students breathing in total contradiction to the movements of the body, and students who are seemingly not breathing at all.  I feel like I probably remind students a little more often to check in on the breath than I need to right now, but it’s partly a factor of what I see.

Watching students is also so inspiring.  It doesn’t matter whether the students are new to yoga or have been practicing for a long time.  Seeing the effort and energy that they lay down in the practice awes me.  Back in my “go to the gym” days, I would see people who were there, but not really there.  They would walk around the weight room with a towel, chat, give other people advice on what to do, maybe check out their guns in the mirror, but they weren’t really there.  I rarely see that in a yoga class.  From the outsider perspective, it appears as if some people are a little more focused on the workout, some on the meditative aspect, some on the flexibility, etc. but everyone seems to want to be where they are.

Watching students is also, bottom line, beautiful.  It doesn’t matter what they look like or whether they are struggling more or less in the poses.  It doesn’t matter (really) if they are wearing cute yoga clothes.  It doesn’t matter the ages or the sexes.  It doesn’t matter that people make some serious concentration faces sometimes during yoga (this makes me wonder what my face looks like when I practice).  Regardless of all of that specific difference, there is just something so beautiful about watching a room full of people do yoga.

And, I’m just getting started in this teaching thing, so I feel very lucky to be having the opportunity to watch students and help them, in whatever little way I can, through their practice.

Thank you, students.  Namaste,

L

But, Where is My Normal Teacher?

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When we were young, in early elementary school, having a substitute teacher was a little unnerving.  We knew the regular teacher; we had certain expectations of her/him.  We probably felt safe in his/her classroom and with the way that things were managed there.  Later, in middle school and high school, we started to like having a substitute teacher, because it often meant that no work would be getting done, assignments/tests would be put off, and some of the kids would misbehave in (possibly) entertaining ways – with very little consequence.

In the yoga classroom, from what I can tell, most of us return to that early school frame of mind.  As I consider my own reaction to finding a substitute in my classes, and what I see on the faces of other students (when I’m sharing the class with them, or when I am the substitute), it seems that having an unexpected yoga instructor creates concern and possibly even annoyance.  I know that I have thought to myself, “but I came today specifically to take a class with ________,”  or “I hope that this class isn’t more/less challenging (or zen or calming or fun) than __________’s class.”  When I took over a class a few weeks ago, about 50% of the students who entered asked, with some fear and stress in their voices, “Where is ________?  Will he be back next week?”

It’s perfectly reasonable, because teaching styles can vary so widely in a way that goes beyond just what sort of language is used (is this teacher more anatomical or more metaphorical?), whether there is chanting, what kind of music is played, or whether there is more/less demonstration of poses.  In a class that is labeled as vinyasa, for example, one teacher may have more of an ashtanga influence, while another may be more influenced by anusara, and a third Iyengar.  Even for teachers who ostensibly teach the exact same style, the lineage of learning impacts how that style unfolds in a class session.  Those are differences that make a difference to a student in the room.  The first time I encountered a class that did not begin with sun salutations of some sort, I was completely confused.  I didn’t know where we were going and I didn’t feel settled in the class.  It’s normal to feel a little thrown.  We do select particular classes and instructors because the style suits our individual needs.  Sure, some of it is about the time of day and the location of the studio, but if the class doesn’t fit for us, we aren’t likely to keep going back.  A substitute can feel like a wrench in the gears.

However, while having a sub in class can be a little unnerving, it’s also an amazing opportunity.  We don’t always find the time to go try out other classes.  Once we find a few that feel ok, it’s easy enough to just stick to them without exposing ourselves to the full range of selections.  Having a substitute instructor brings that diversity of selection to us, instead of us needing to go seek it out.  We can check out another way of practicing and another style of teaching while remaining in our comfortable time and place.  Having a different teacher in class may also draw our attention more firmly to the mat.  If we are really accustomed to a particular instructor’s style, we may feel like we can predict what is coming next in a practice, and that might allow the mind to wander a bit more.  A new teacher in the room requires full attention to follow along.  Last, but not least, having a substitute instructor is an excellent chance to work our equanimity.  Can we maintain our focus on what brings us to yoga in the first place and avoid thinking about how different this teacher is, or that she seems louder (or quieter or more nervous or more bold) than our usual instructor?  Can we let go of the critical chatter that might come up (“If that Lorin says ‘your edge’ one more time, I might lose my mind!”  “Why in the world are we holding utkatasana so long?!”) and embrace our own unity with the substitute?  After all, we’re all there from a love for yoga.

Like most everything, having a different yoga teacher from the one you anticipated can be a challenge, but it’s also a chance to grow and learn.  In the end, we may conclude that the alternate teacher’s style just isn’t for us, that it is amazing and we can’t wait to take another class with him/her, or something in between.  But, regardless, the experience has value if we remain open to it.

Namaste,

L

Letting Go in a Different Way – A New Perspective on Yoga Classes

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The class I observed on Wednesday, and the class that I took today (both excellent classes – thanks Eric and Micki) have me thinking about in class behavior, and my own responses to it…

Many many months ago, I wrote a blog post about yoga “rules.” At the time, I was really thinking more about the big issues of yoga than the smaller “how to just be a good class citizen” kind of rules.  But, I remember that one of the things that had gotten me started on that post was recalling just how much some behavior bothered me back when I first started taking public classes.

Having done all my yoga at home, my first few public classes were quite an eye opener.  The poses were challenging. I had a hard time keeping up.  We were all really close together.  And, some people were just not all that polite.  The lack of politeness ranged from the snotty looks given to new students, to arriving very late and making much commotion setting up, to ringing cell phones, to space infringement, and so on.  I was surprised, having somehow expected yogis to all be very spiritual and “good.”

Over time, I became much more focused on what was happening on my mat, and that helped me to let go of what everyone else was, or wasn’t, doing.  Sure, I still noticed the person who wandered through the room talking loudly when everyone else was in seated meditation, but for the most part, I was in my little zone.  Even when I did notice behavior that I thought wasn’t so cool, it seemed like it wasn’t my issue and that letting it just pass by me was the best course of action (or non-action).

Recently, however, things have changed, because I’m in teacher training.  Suddenly, I’m seeing class from a different angle, both literally (as I observe classes and take my turns doing little mini-teaches in training) and mentally (as I begin to consider what is going on from the position of a teacher).  And, I have found myself newly annoyed by things I thought I had gotten over.  Now when someone comes in late, chats with a neighbor during class, won’t follow instructions, doesn’t maintain space rules, and so on, I feel bothered, not so much from my student position, but from the perspective of a person teaching the class.

To a degree, I suppose this is appropriate and expected, because there will be things that I have to manage as a teacher that I don’t have to as a student.  The pair on the side who just cannot stop chattering will have to be dealt with so that they don’t completely disrupt the practices of everyone else in the room.  The person who is insistent on doing poses in his/her own way but who is actually engaging in risky physical behavior will have to be addressed.

And yet, even from the perspective of a teacher, I will need to be able to let go of some things.  Someone (and maybe the same person many times) is going to be late.  Someone is going to be a little overly enthusiastic with the “sounds of relaxation”  (yeah, you know the sounds I mean).   Someone is going to decide that he/she just needs to do his/her own thing and be unmatched with everyone else for the whole class.  There may always be a little part of me that finds such things bothersome, but I will need to be able to let them go, or risk getting in my own way and thereby disrupting not only my equanimity, but the mood of the practice for everyone.

It’s interesting to see how my perspective and position has evolved over time.  While at first I was ignoring problematic behavior just out of politeness (one way of letting it go), later I was just not really noticing it much due to my focus (a different way of letting go), and now I’m consciously deciding what can be overlooked in the spirit of the positive energy in the room (another way of letting go).  It’s not exactly a fish becoming a mammal, but its certainly my own little evolutionary process 🙂

Namaste,

L