The first time I taught a yoga class—not an impromptu training session in my living room foisted on my family and friends, but a real yoga class, in an actual studio with a proper stereo, mats, props and everything—I wished I was back at home in my living room.

We started the class with an “Om”. So far, so good. I began my flow: warming up the spine, taking some twists, up to some vinyasas (series of movements linked with breath). It started to go downhill during warrior one. I began really looking around at the student’s faces. That’s when I noticed: no one was smiling. Actually, the facial expressions ranged from impassive to definite scowls: brows drawn together, tight lips, squinting eyes. They hated it. They hated my class, and they thought I sucked. That had to be it.

I practically closed my eyes during the rest of the flow. When class was over, I remembered to start breathing again. I slid out of the room, rushed to the bus stop, and, when I made it home, threw myself on the bed and the covers over my head.

Time for a Career Change?

The next time I was called in to sub, I nearly said, “Actually, I’ve decided to consider the months of training and thousands of dollars, an investment in my inner self”. Instead, I prepared like crazy. I planned my flow, wrote it out on a piece of paper, practiced every day for a week and half, and pulled together a soundtrack of some of my favorite yoga music. This class, I’d rock. This class, they’d love.

On y-day I marched into the studio, flipped my CDs in the stereo, dimmed the lights, lit some candles, and took my seat at the front of the room. Flow memorized? Check. Relaxing and energizing music playing? Check. Lighting appropriately dimmed? Check.

I introduced myself as the sub. Same skeptical faces. I “Ommmed”. So far, so good. We warmed up. Still good. It started to go downhill during warrior two. Unhappy faces: Down-turned mouths. Frowning eyebrows. Scowls. Directed right at me. They hated my class and they thought I sucked. That must be it. After class I snuck out again, picked up a job fair pamphlet, and began to make a mental list of all the pros of continuing to work in the magazine industry.

Laughing it Off

The next day, I went to a class with my Kundalini teacher, Gloria Latham of Semperviva. Afterwards, we all filed out of the studio into the reception area. A friend of mine and a regular Kundalini student turned to Gloria on our way out: “That was a great class.” She thanked him for coming. We kept walking and then he paused, calling back over his shoulder, “Though, after the last set of squats, I was about ready to deck you.”

What?! I almost choked on my water. But Gloria just laughed. She grinned and shrugged.

Because Gloria had already learned what I was about to realize. Which is this: When I’m at the front of the classroom, it’s not about me. It’s about everyone else in the room. And I don’t take it personally anymore. Because facial expressions, even though they might be glaring my direction, are reflections of students’ impression of what’s happening inside them, not their impression of me.

Taking it off the Mat

This realization has changed my life. Now, when the person I’m talking with, or the one walking towards me down the street, or glancing askance at me on the bus, has an expression that says, “you suck”, I read, “I’m pissed off at myself for something coming up inside”. In other words: I’m okay. You’re okay.

. . . . . . .

Photo courtesy of Doe, John