I have been studying yoga for some years now and I think it has been incredibly good for me as a teacher.

There’s nothing better for improving your teaching than being a student again. Particularly if you are studying something that’s extremely challenging, at which you are bound to fail as much as succeed, and during which you are likely to be placed in some embarrassing positions. It is a great reminder of what it’s like to be a student — the fear of not knowing, of failing, the anxiety of being judged or evaluated, the position of powerlessness or dependence relative to the teacher, etc. It has helped me be more compassionate to my students to remember just how hard it is.

But, I also think it has improved my teaching to witness how different yoga teachers teach — what works and what doesn’t. We don’t often get to watch teachers teach unless we’re in the position of evaluating fellow academics, and it’s a real shame. While I undoubtedly absorbed different pedagogical methods and styles while I was student that have influenced how I teach, rarely as an undergrad or grad student was I self-consciously paying attention to HOW my professors taught. Now I think about it all the time when I’m in a yoga class or workshop, and I’ve learned a lot that has enriched my own teaching.

The yogi that I am currently studying with (who is an inspiration to me), sometimes shares tidbits about teaching yoga — guidelines she has learned or uses, etc. Here’s a good one:

“Never demonstrate a pose that the students do not (or cannot) put into practice themselves.”

That is, the teacher should never demonstrate a pose and leave it at that: putting students in the position of observers rather than practitioners. The teacher should also never demonstrate a pose that is so complex/advanced that the students aren’t able to try it themslves: then the teacher’s just showing off, rather than teaching.

I recently had an experience in my own class that recalled this advice: I introduced a new research tool that I’m very excited about, but I had not developed any assignment that would allow for the application of the tool by my students. The students listened to my presentation with a distinct lack of interest — and I realized it was because they didn’t see the relevence to themselves. “Sure, it’s cool, but why do I need to know this?” They were mere passive observers with no opportunity to put it into practice. Once I recognized the problem, I reorganized some assignments in the class so that they had a new assignment that was all about using this tool — and suddenly they were engaged and curious.

Of course, the yoga classroom does have some distinct differences from conventional academic ones: the students all want to be there and they all believe in the value of what’s being taught. Sometimes, when I’m exhausted from trying to explain how my Obscure Area of Expertise is relevant to my student’s lives, I think about my yogi who never has to make this case — we all enter her classroom just hoping we’ll be able to grasp the full benefit of her teachings. Somehow I never feel that level of adulation from my students.