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OPEN MIND OPEN BODY Teaching Reflections |
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Giving
Students Permission
When I was in college, I signed up for a yoga class with a recent graduate
from a strict Iyengar teacher training program. He told us at the first
class that "everybody" knew that he was one of the top two
instructors on the entire peninsula. This instructor had a habit of
yelling at students who did poses "wrong", and had developed
quite an impressive grip for yanking students into and out of poses. He
also could be very funny and encouraging, and he had a clear passion for
yoga. He taught me new ways of thinking about asana. He had a shaved head
and wore the skimpy, baggy yoga shorts that look like diapers - which at
the time, I thought was a sure sign of his commitment and authority. He
promised us a spiritual practice, not just a physical practice. He was the
first teacher who offered me that. I wanted to be challenged, because I
was serious about yoga. I wanted to be led to the next level in my
practice.
His methods, however, made me uncomfortable. He told us to show up 10
minutes before the 8 AM class to demonstrate our commitment to the class.
I did. He didn't. We often started late. He sometimes made me demonstrate
poses I had never done before; my first experience with scorpion pose
(forearm balance) was when he asked me to come to the center of the room
to demonstrate it. I did, because I didn't know how to say no. I collapsed
in the pose. Still, I wanted to please him.
I attended his class twice a week for about two months, before I -
literally - hit the wall. My teacher had sent us to the wall to practice a
specific pose. After a few minutes, I felt inspired to add a backbend to
it. It felt wonderful and totally supported. But my teacher came over to
me, grabbed my rib cage, and pulled me out of the pose.
"Did I say you could do that?" he said. He then shoved me into
the original pose, and I hit my head against the wall. It didn't hurt
much, but I felt ashamed and angry. I started to cry. I packed my
things and left for good.
This teacher's words haunted me. Did I say you could do that? Why
did I need his permission? I had been so "good" up to then -
following his instructions exactly. After some reflection, I became more
disturbed with my own behavior than with my teacher's. I realized that I
had been looking for his permission the whole time. My teacher had
unintentionally taught me an important spiritual lesson after all - that I
didn't need permission to follow my intuition.
Most yoga teachers aren't as extreme as this early teacher of mine.
However, many of us struggle with the balance between structure and
freedom in the classroom. We feel the weight of our role as teachers; we
are obligated to teach in a way that is not harmful to students, and for
some teachers, that takes the form of unrelenting strictness in the
classroom. For others, it takes the form of overwhelming students with
directions. New teachers frequently feel compelled to share every piece of
knowledge they have in every single class. They may make five or six
corrections to a single student in a single pose. We may be afraid to let
students improvise - what if they hurt themselves?
However, in our attempts to protect students, we may end up attempting to
control students. Controlling behavior only reinforce students' tendencies
to look outside themselves for evaluation and permission. This may keep
students in your class, but it does nothing to help them. Students may be
confused the first time you say, "Now, notice how you're feeling.
Does it feel better to do it (this way) or (another way)? Do what feels
right." Many students want you to tell them which way is right -
that's why they pay to take your class. And many teachers secretly suspect
that they do know what is right, and that students don't know
enough to make good choices. This belief does not serve your students in
the long run, because you won't be there to help them make decisions in
the rest of their life. Instead, help them see the difference between ways
of approaching an asana, and direct their attention to cues that only they
can perceive: muscular sensation, their own thoughts, and the state of
their energy.
Once students develop the awareness to make conscious choices in their
practice, they recognize the power of their own intelligence and
intuition. Given the choice between a fully externally-driven practice,
and a practice that blends external directions with internal guidance,
most prefer to the empowerment of some self-guidance. It is a gift to your
students. It is what makes yoga a transformational practice.
Since that last class with my college yoga teacher, when I gave myself
permission to walk out of the classroom, I have given myself permission to
guide my yoga practice the way I'd like to live my life: open to advice
and information, aware of the present moment, and moving confidently in
the direction of my internal guidance. Return to Teaching Reflections
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