LYNN SHUCK HEALING AND BALANCE

Who Watches Who; Why Leading a Practice Isn't the Same as Teaching a Class

1/1/2019

I've been teaching yoga for over two decades now. Every time someone who has taken other yoga classes joins my class, one of the first questions they ask me is, "Where will you be standing?" When I tell them I will be moving around the room, this is clearly not a satisfactory answer. But after that first class, when the new student has received actual teaching pertinent to their specific way of moving in their body, the light bulb goes off.

I have nothing against classes where the teacher is up front and demonstrates everything. Those can be fun and challenging practices. They also require a lot of self-knowledge on the part of the class participants. Instead, I find most people coming to yoga classes have very little self-awareness and are moving the best they can to keep up with the person leading the practice. When a student's limitations and movement patterns no longer allow them to keep up, they either get hurt or they quit in frustration.

When a yoga teacher (or any movement teacher) actually teaches instead of leading practice, that is when the student can actually make change. Movement patterns that may be causing injury or preventing progress can be addressed and adjusted.

So what does class look like with a teacher versus a leader? Well, in my classes, I don't set out a mat for myself and I really do walk around throughout class. I may walk up to one student and help them align a knee, or get weight on a part of their foot that they didn't realize was not on the floor, I might suggest a narrower or wider stance to someone else. I might point out that another student's ribs are thrust forward or their head is tipped to one side. Over time, as students study with me longer, I no longer even have to say much. I walk near a mat and the person on that mat quickly adjusts something I've mentioned in previous classes. I know what my students are working on, and so do my students.

Do I demonstrate poses? Of course, but not for very long. No one needs to model my exact shape since no one else has my movement history, my injuries, my specific work to do. You can always tell the newcomer who is used to following the leader; when I briefly show a pose then come out of it to walk around, the newbie will also come out of the pose. Then they quickly look around, realize their error, and return to the pose.

Teaching class means students learn to listen to descriptions and concepts. They can benefit from individually specific instructions. They can discover how they've been moving up until now, and decide whether those habits are still of benefit (sometimes yes, sometimes no). They can learn from instruction, not just by following, They gain the self-knowledge that would allow them to better navigate a led-practice.

I do appreciate a well-led practice. I also have nearly 30 years of study under my belt and can make necessary changes if what's being taught is not appropriate for me that day. I also know that when I was a novice teacher, leading practice was what I was capable of. As I learned more, I taught differently. What my students appreciate is getting attention for their specific issues. They really enjoy not having to know what to do when a pose is out of reach. They know I will be available to them, I will see them if they struggle, and I'll have an option or suggestion for them. I couldn't do that if I was busy demonstrating.

And so I say it again loudly for the people in back: Leading class is not the same as teaching.

Rock and roll ... Or not

12/9/2018

When I started teaching yoga in 1996, I was teaching in YMCAs and corporate offices. There were no stereos, and the portability of music on your phone was far in the future. I never brought a boombox along. During class (Ashtanga at the time) and even during Savasana there was silence. A woman who took my earliest classes later told me that during her first class, the silence was agitating. But by the third week of classes, she realized that the end of yoga class was the only time she ever had silence in her life. She began to relish that time, that peace and quiet.

Twenty years later, I still hold to that practice of not using music. I have even more reasons now than I did then. Every restaurant, every store, every open plaza has piped in music. Most restaurants also have big screen TVs all around. You cannot even get gas without having ads playing at the pump. Silence may be challenging, but it is missing from all our lives. Even when we can get away from the TV, the music, there is the humming of appliances, computers, air conditioning and heating. I may not be able to do anything about the latter, but I can at least lessen the noise by removing music from the practice.

Early on I discovered that whenever I did try and use music, that no one kind of music, no one song will resonate with the entire class. I'd rather have the entire class sort their way through silence than make one or two students have to sort their way through a song that agitates rather than soothes.

Lastly, I know many yoga teachers pride themselves on their playlist and timing music to coordinate with certain parts of class. I find it very impressive, and if it's the only way you're going to get through a practice, by all means rock out. When I used to run, I admit there were some runs that simply wouldn't have happened without my iPod.

But I leave you with the thoughts of a runner who got me to stop running with music playing (most of the time):
The whole point of running distances is to be in your body, notice the power, the struggles, the world around you, the world in your head. After the first ten minutes of agitation, you settle into a whole different rhythm.

I'd posit the same to be true of being on the mat without music.

Wool Gathering

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