What Makes a "Good" Teacher?

I've been appreciating good teachers lately.

I've been thinking of the qualities the teachers I value as "good" have in in common. When I was still in school, I thought good teachers had to have an air of confidence and a developed ability to read the room. I thought they had to be brilliant--many steps ahead of the students they taught. When I started teaching composition, I thought this, and I also thought a sense of humor would endear the students to me and thus, learn the material better.

Now that I've taught for a few years and been a student for over 25, I know of no universal checklist of qualities that one can aspire to. We never get the chance to sigh satisfactorily once they've been attained. I know plenty of people who are intelligent, funny, and who initially appear confident. But the teachers that reach me again and again seem to have a well-defined sense of who they are.

There's a fairly new yoga teacher in town who helped me see this. I remember the first time she walked into the room. She looked young, geeky, and did not have a strong, commanding voice. She didn't force herself to be cheerful or firm. She continued to seem young and geeky and didn't pretend to have a commanding voice. But damn if she didn't get the best class out of us. And I've seen her do that again and again.

This teacher has a particularly gentle way of encouraging us to try. Rather than make it seem like we're rockstars if we do the pose and not trying hard enough if we sit it out, it seems she simply points out that it's possible to do the work. Last week, she singled me out in Standing Bow pose. Normally, I'm falling all over the place in that posture, and teachers who know me don't bother to correct me or offer encouragement. (I don't mean this in a "those teachers suck!" kind of way. Let me make my point.) It takes a real act of bravery to offer them encouragement in just the place they need it.

I think it was the last side of Standing Bow when I realized she was talking to me. "Yep, you've got it, E," she said. "Just keep kicking." I don't remember what else she said, but it was so nice to really feel her reach out to me in just the posture I feel the weakest in. It was exactly what I needed to hear, and I finished the pose pretty strongly.

As a teacher, I too know that it's hard to take a leap of faith like that for a student. I see now that it's because that yoga teacher was not a drill sergeant, because she was being her normal, geeky, joking-about-a-book-I-read-last-week self, I knew it would be OK if I fell out. That was the exact thing I needed to go forward--I needed someone to reassure me it would be OK if I "failed." It was like the criteria for being a good student had dissolved, too.

Like all those self-help messages that emphasize that we should be who we are, we need to give ourselves permission to be ourselves when we teach, when we work, when we parent, etc, even if we are nervous, silly, or irritated. There's no need to force yourself to act a certain way--you're already OK as you are. This is the message we need to hear again and again. Maybe that's why it feels so wonderful to get a teacher who sees this!

Oh God. Here it comes: A Valentine's Post.

"Happy Singles' Awareness Day, dude."

I overheard a student commenting sarcastically to his friend as I walked through the hallways today, feeling kinda grumpy about Valentine's Day. Jeez. It's a cliche to point out what a useless and industry-generated holiday this is. For those of us who aren't in a relationship, seeing the ads of happy couples, people walking around with pink gift bags, flowers, and balloons can be a painful reminder of what we think we don't have. For those of us who are in a relationship, the holiday can make us feel pressured to express emotions we may not actually be feeling, or buy a bunch of crap we can't afford that the other person probably doesn't even want. Corporate bottom line? For the win! Individual? FML.

There was something about the student's comment--which actually resonated with what I'd been feeling in the buildup to this "holiday"--that actually snapped me out of my self-righteous sarcasm. It does suck to be reminded of loneliness or feelings of disconnection. It does suck to feel like we've got to please our man or woman by buying or doing things.

Even the cynic in me, though, must grudgingly admit that the holiday has at its essence a good message. While at the grocery store yesterday, I saw little pots of flowers that made me think of a couple of really great women friends I work with, so I bought 'em and put 'em on their desks this morning. It just... felt... so.... good!

Of course, the TV ads tell you to buy a diamond ring for your girlfriend, or your family tradition says buy some chocolates from See's. They don't show two platonic female friends exchanging flowers. But that "I'm glad you're in my life and I'm thinking of you" message is one we all deserve to hear, and one that feels really good to say!

So, let's use the skills we develop in yoga and meditation. The message is perfect! The delivery might not be so good and may even be driven by the bottom line, but go back to the message and let that drive our action and thoughts instead. Doing so is what makes us feel connected and loved.

Dare I say it? Happy... Valentine's... DAY. I'm thinking of you.

Heather/a South African flower

A New Challenge

Scared. Wrung-out. Confused. Elated. Joyful. Sick. Powerful. Irritated. Uncertain. On any given day lately, it seems like I experience all these emotions, often within the span of a very short period of time. As someone who values steadfastness, I'm looking to bring a little more equanimity into my life, so I've undertaken a "challenge" of a non-Bikram-but-very-Bikram-related kind.

I've been incorporating meditation into my life lately. I've been studying it in books and listening to talks on meditation and Buddhism from sites like dharmaseed.org. Yoga itself is a form of meditation--I often think Bikram is a meditation trial by fire: learn to be in the moment or you're a gonner.

But I've been feeling like I've been in the "learning about meditating" phase for a long time. It's time to really roll up my sleeves and establish a routine that I stick to unfailingly, like brushing my teeth in the morning or greeting my kitties when I come home from work.

Sharon Salzberg, a well-known Vipassana (I think!) meditation instructor, has a new book out called Real Happiness, and in it, she challenges people to take up meditating 15 minutes or more a day for a month. On her website, she's asked readers to begin the challenge at the start of February, and invites people to blog about what they're experiencing and share in a sort of online sangha (Buddhist community).

Admittedly, I don't actually have her book. But I have read others and have met her in person and listen to her talks, and I've undertaken the challenge of meditating 15 minutes a day.  (15 minutes is a long time.) While I don't plan to blog about it all here, I'm sure future posts will be influenced by what comes up.

So far, it's been very ... interesting. Just like in practicing yoga, when meditating, you never know what's going to come up. Sometimes you can get a sense of real peace and joy, sometimes demons wake up and rattle their cages, and sometimes it can get boring. One of the keys I've learned from exploring Buddhism is a lesson I don't think most of us get: not to judge. As stuff comes up, it's inevitable we want to attach judgment to it. "Oh her. She was so cruel to say that. Didn't she realize how thoughtless she was being?" And then I am mad at myself for feeling judgment when I should be feeling nothing but warm, fuzzy lovingkindness. Sometimes I am able to remember: don't judge... not even the judgment part.

I'm trying not to set rigid goals for what I'm going to "get" from this little challenge. I'm trying not to have expectations. But I am pretty sure that looking into the pool of my mind, watching the mud settle, and seeing what lays on the bottom is a good place to start.

Peeking Around the Doorframe

Hi!! *Peeks around shyly from door frame.*

I've missed y'all! Believe me, I'm here. I just haven't been coming out of my little house, or sitting on the porch and waving, or even shouting "hello!" from the window. But know that I'm watching, looking out and glad to know there's a happy little yoga blogging community out there. 

It's been a while since I've posted. Sometimes, the stuff that swallows up your life just doesn't belong on a blog!

But that doesn't mean that stuff doesn't belong in the yoga room. Man, I don't need to tell you, it's nice to have something steady to come to whenever a good sweat is needed.

I've been reminded lately of how much of a barometer yoga is. Weeks where I'm happy and calm, I march straight up to the front row, confident that my practice will simply be what it is, and that I don't need to worry about what's going to happen. Weeks where things are more challenging, I hang out in the back. My mind takes over, I'm wobbly, and I feel like my classes aren't "good." Always, though, I am pretty sure the yoga affords me tiny glimpses of awareness I wouldn't otherwise get, to say nothing of the physical benefits.

Fortunately, my new work schedule (it seems to change semesterly!) allows me to practice at different times, and I love how different the practice is at various times of the day! I get up for the 6:30 a.m. class on Friday mornings, and I'm solid and steady. I do all the postures and I'm happy to be there, like I've discovered some secret cache of time and place that only a handful of others know about. 9:00 a.m.s are a struggle, but I always feel like I won some sort of epic battle. And then, there are the p.m. classes. I suffer, I struggle, and then I struggle because I'm mad at myself for struggling. Fortunately, I leave cleansed, refreshed and just a bit lighter on the inside and out.

So... home is warm and safe, but I sure do miss my network of yogis. Know that I'm here and I'm reading!

Falling's not so Bad

So, the holidays. I was looking forward to a couple of weeks off, enjoying our family's usual lazy-paced way of celebrating the holidays and then taking a few days of R&R before getting back to work. But life has an odd way of tweaking (or in this case, twisting) your plans around until they sit squarely on their heads.

A couple of family emergencies came breezing through, which prevented me from getting me to yoga as much as I'd like and from doing online anything except the Blog Roll Skim every couple of days. I miss y'all--the yoga, the blogging community--but I'm also grateful for the closeness that grows between family and friends during crises like these.

After the holidays passed and the two situations got somewhat under control, I hopped in my car and drove to Mammoth Mountain for a few days of skiing. Although I'm missing my boyfriend, who had to fly out to deal with his own family emergency, I'm allowing myself to enjoy a breath of clean, cold mountain air, dear friends... and the drama that comes up while you're on the slopes.

Even here, hundreds of miles from home, I am reminded of how you really can't escape who you are. Even up here, "away" from everything, my own neurotic tendencies come out. I follow my friends down big, scary ski hills, and it's a constant struggle to just be present. Just like in a Bikram class, my mind takes over. (It's a little scarier to hear yourself say "you are not gonna make it!" when you're barreling down an endlessly long hill.) In a desperate attempt to combat this tendency, I do the same thing as I do in Bikram: try to be in the moment. Notice what's happening. Feel the difference in texture of the snow as the skis race over it. Or, when I'm really scared, the Buddhist proverb, "Mind like sky," will do the trick.

What's also interesting to notice is that, just like in work, love, and life in general, it's the middle part that gets me scared. I'm excited at the beginning, but when I'm far from the start and can't see the finish line, I panic. It's funny to observe that happen at warp speed when you're coming down the slope.

There have been so many beautiful moments, though, and they don't always come when you expect them. I took the following photo after I'd fallen. I just lay there, exhausted at the middle of what was then a difficult run for me. After the jarring fall, though, I was just there. No thought, just sensory experience. Too bad it took a fall to get out of my head!

I hope you are enjoying your Januarys! Stay HOT!

Falling's not so bad if you stop to take in the view.

Oh, the Memories.

I love the end of the year. I enjoy the holidays, the time off, and the turning of the old year into the new. I revel in reflecting over the year. Even if the downs stand out front and center, I manage to be able to anticipate lots of ups in the coming year.

Of course, I've been reflecting a lot about yoga class. Last Saturday, I had a pretty tough one. It was hot, it was humbling, and I had to leave the room during the standing series. Initially, I was so humbled it hurt. As I walked back toward the hot room, feeling the heat and dread radiating at me, I realized that I actually had come a long way, baby, since starting up this practice again.

I remember my first day back. I knew it would be tough, but I thought, "I run miles at a time. I'm in pretty darn good shape. I bet I do OK." Uh, no.

But from there, it was progress. One way or another. Midway through the semester, I remind my composition students that learning is not always a pretty, straightforward process. We desperately want it to be like this!

But really, it's more like this.

It goes up, it goes down, and there may be more than one way of measuring progress. Learning--progressing--in life or in yoga is so not straightforward.

I remember when I couldn't stand in standing-head-to-knee pose, even with the leg sort-of locked, for the full minute or 30 seconds. My standing leg would just burn, and I'd have to come out early.

I remember when I couldn't do Camel for both sets. I'd feel like my heart was a hummingbird and that someone was about to eviscerate me.

I remember that in Fixed Firm, because knees and ankles tight from running, I couldn't go all the way back. Kaphlbahti breathing made me feel sick, and I could never, ever balance fully in Toe Stand.

Most of all, I remember that I would always have this odd misconception of what other students in the class were capable of, even though I rarely look around the room. "You suck! Everyone else is doing this pose better than you!" I'd say to myself.

I'm happy to say all those things aren't true anymore. Well, they're usually not true anymore. Other challenges have cropped up as some resolve, and some of my hot room demons still haunt my practice.

Progress may not go in that nice, upward line, but one thing is certain: it always goes forward.

Renovation!

I've been contemplating renovation lately. It's definitely not time for spring cleaning, but the holidays and the coming of the new year get me into pensive contemplation mode. I walk around the house, thinking, "If only I had the motivation to re-pot those chili plants. They've been hanging on for dear life for 9 months now. Gosh, I wish I had the time and the interior design know-how to replace those gnarly curtains in the bedroom."

You would not believe the curtains in the bedroom. They're red, they're IKEA (like, cheap, old IKEA), and they've been sagging and pretty much non-functional since I installed them two and a half years ago. I've been wanting to replace them since about five minutes after I put 'em up. I have ambitions to get a lot of projects done over the winter break because once the semester is under way, I'm lucky to be able to  shower regularly. 

My house needs a lot of work, but even more than my house, the inside of my head needs a little dusting and rearranging.

There's a very cool Ani Difranco song, "Back, Back, Back," that addresses exactly the idea of working on yourself now so that you're not stuck later.

She sings, "When you sit right down in the middle of yourself,
you're gonna want to have a comfortable chair
So renovate your soul before you get too old,
'cause you're gonna be housebound there."

OK, cool. Learn how to be contented with life now, because as we age, the many distractions we desperately cling to now are likely to disappear. I think most of us believe in the validity of that message, one way or another. But how do you actually renovate your soul? And what does the final "house" look like?

One of the things I'm constantly working on is my tendency to over-please. I realize that I do so even during yoga class. I think I know why I love taking classes from new teachers: I perceive them as having no expectations of me, and as a result, I "do" better. When I take a class from my studio owner (whom I love love love, by the way), I stress myself out. I wage an unnecessarily silly mental battle with myself. Because I've been practicing with her for a year and a half now, I have this self-important idea that she remembers stuff about me and holds me to a certain standard. "You NEVER sit out this posture, E. She's gonna remember! Get your fingers to your toes--that's what she's always seen you do before!" Ridiculous. Ludicrous. And as a result of that silly inner-battle, I stress myself out and add to the intensity of it all.

So, when I saw that my studio owner was teaching this morning, I made a promise to myself, a promise I apparently need to make myself before every class. "This class is NOT about her. Just listen to the words and focus on your body." Hand to God, the class was about 50% better than it normally was. I was able not to worry about what I perceived her to be thinking.

Maybe today's class had nothing to do with the actual renovation process. But maybe, I at least took out and contemplated the tools.

One day, I will actually take down those disgusting curtains.

Enjoy this cheesy video for Ani song :-)