After no one showed up for my first 4 (!) classes, I realized I needed to let go of my ego as quickly as possible, lest I spend every Monday night curled up in the fetal position and sobbing in my closet. But over the past two months, I've had pretty consistent turnout, until tonight. At 6:58, I thought I might get the night off, until I got my first and only student for the night. Keep in mind that I was tired and feeling somewhat bloated from my very yogic lunch of pancakes and a milkshake.
It might have been the most fun I've had teaching a class yet. Small classes are the shit, and to be one on one with a student, particularly someone just getting into yoga, is to really get to chance to, well, teach. I could watch her every move. I could see where the potential injuries lurked and move her away from them. I could see which words connected with her and which didn't. I could even do about half the practice with her, because, like, a dude just staring at you and barking instructions sounds creepy.
Speaking of injuries, please, for the love of your ligaments, don't let the knee get in front of the ankle.
The best part is that I could both push her and offer support, because I could be there for every move. With just the slightest assist, my student got into textbook Dekasana and Urdhva Dhanurasana. I'm not even sure she realized how cool it was that she was so new to yoga and still rocking those poses so hard, but I did, and I told her, and it felt great.
Someday, I may teach at the big studios. Someday, I may experience the uncompromising joy of headset yoga. In this moment, I'm immensely grateful for the students I get and the lessons they teach me.
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